#all under one roof raving

[justlemmeadoreyou]

1. prepping (restaurant owner!harry x chef!y/n)

summary: you landed your dream job as a line cook at harry styles' prestigious haus kitchen restaurant in chicago. the tough chef job demands focus, but it's really hard when your boss looks like harry styles.

words: 4.3k

warnings: nothing major in this one

Your palms were sweating as you gripped the steering wheel, driving through downtown Chicago towards your new job. You kept glancing down at the address on the printed directions, double checking that you were heading the right way. The last thing you wanted was to be late on your first day.

Ever since getting your culinary degree, you had applied to what felt like hundreds of restaurant jobs, desperate to get your foot in the door of a real professional kitchen. But very few places wanted to hire someone so fresh out of school with no actual experience. 

Finally, after months of dead ends, you had landed a line cook position at Haus Kitchen - one of the hottest farm-to-table restaurants in the city. You could scarcely believe your luck when you got the call saying you were hired.

Haus was the brainchild of Harry Styles, international superstar singer turned chef. After his chart-topping solo music career, Harry had traded in artist life to pursue his lifelong passion for cooking. Using his accumulated wealth, he opened up Haus five years ago to rave reviews, quickly earning a well deserved Michelin star.

You vividly remembered watching Harry's transition from a pop idol to dashing culinary entrepreneur play out in the media. As a teenage girl, you had been obsessed with him during his One Direction days.

Your bedroom walls were plastered with Harry's posters and you had relentlessly played their songs, sighing over his tousled hair and pouty lips. Then as you got older and Harry went solo, your boyband crush evolved into more of an intense celebrity infatuation as he cultivated a cool, rebellious image.

There were countless gossipy blind items about his infamous hellraising, flings with models and socialites, and run-ins with the law. You had followed all the scandalous Harry headlines with rapt attention - from getting papped stumbling out of nightclubs with an endless parade of beautiful women to getting arrested for drug possession outside Soho clubs. 

But finally in his late 20s, seemingly bored of rockstar debauchery, Harry had pivoted to reset his image as a knowledgeable culinary entrepreneur. You admired how he transformed from tabloid bad boy into a refined, successful businessman and chef.

He began studying haute cuisine under the tutelage of famous European chefs, traveling abroad to hone his skills further. While continuing to record new musical projects independently, Harry started establishing himself in the culinary world through guest stints on TV cooking shows and food/wine events.

With his brooding good looks, charming personality, and serious culinary chops, the world fell for Harry's new sophisticated image. Before long, he was the subject of breathless puff pieces in food magazines as "the sexiest Renaissance man in the kitchen." It seemed natural when Harry soon opened up his passion project Haus to capitalize on his popularity and love of food.

Now nearing your mid-20s, your teenage fannish obsession had cooled into more of an admiring celebrity crush. You had stayed aware of Harry's journey, but your priorities were focused on graduating culinary school at the top of your class and finding your own big break in the Chicago restaurant scene.

So when you landed a job at Harry's iconic Haus, it almost didn't feel real. Not only would you be working at one of the city's most exclusive spots, but under the same roof as a chef you had admired for ages.

Not that you expected to have any real personal contact with Harry himself, you reminded yourself as you merged onto the exit for downtown. He was an internationally famous mega-celebrity who had to have hundreds of staffers, not to mention being handsomely paid to just be the smiling face of the business while professional kitchen vets like Paul Thomason handled the day-to-day operations.

Still, you had to admit to yourself that a tiny part of you tingled at the mere idea of being in the same building as Harry Styles...hopefully catching a glimpse of that handsome, endlessly charming man in the flesh...

You shook your head dismissively and double checked the directions again, annoyed at getting so easily distracted. This was your big break, your first serious job in the industry. You needed to bring your A-game and focus, not dwell on silly celebrity daydreams.

It was your fantasies of becoming a respected chef that needed to take priority.

You pulled into the parking lot for the restaurant, double checking that you had the address right. The sleek, modern building had a neon "Haus Kitchen" sign glowing over opulent double-door entrances flanked by velvet ropes and cheerful outdoor seating areas.

Taking a steadying breath, you cut the engine and sat for a moment, giving yourself a pep talk. This was it. No more messing around doing coursework or labs - this was the major leagues with all the intensity of a real professional kitchen. You had to bring it all day, every day.

As you climbed out of your beat-up Honda, you smoothed down your spotless new chef's whites, making sure everything looked pressed and presentable. With your knife kit tucked under your arm, you walked towards the entrance with purpose, chin held high.

From the moment you stepped through the doors, it was like being transported into another world. The smell of simmering sauces, roasting meats, and freshly baked bread envaded your senses. Even hours before opening, the energy and hustle for dinner prep was palpable.

Off to the left was the main dining room you had studied photos of online - effortlessly cool with vaulted exposed wooden beam ceilings, brick accents, and casually modern decor. Pendant lighting glowed cozily over tables draped in white linens and rustic chandeliers hung over plush tufted leather banquettes. A lively bar area centered the space, stocked with top-shelf liquors and backed by a dazzling display of custom glassware.

In the distance ahead, you could hear the clamoring of the kitchen in full swing. Your stomach did a nervous flip - this was it. Taking another fortifying breath, you headed through the archway.

You emerged into a large, sleek open kitchen layout, all stainless steel and butcher block islands. Uniformed cooks were buzzing at their stations like a well-oiled machine under the barked commands of an older, stocky man you immediately recognized as Head Chef Paul Thomason.

Despite his gruff reputation, watching Thomason in action was nothing short of mesmerizing. He moved between stations with the easy grace of a conductor, sampling sauces, tweaking seasonings, and directing the workflow with gruff orders. There was no wasted movement or micro-expression as he continually tasted and perfected dishes, alternating between thoughtful contemplation and decisive action.

Though you had only seen Thomason in pictures and television appearances, his fierce focus and mastery were unmistakable. This was what true professional kitchen expertise looked like in the flesh.

Feeling like a mouse that had wandered into the lair of a lion, you hovered near the entrance, uncertain of what to do next. The kitchen team flowed around you in a choreographed dance, deftly ignoring your presence as they prepped and plated flawlessly.

After a few minutes of anxious loitering, the intimidating Thomason seemed to finally notice you. His grizzled features contorted as he scowled, looking you up and down through eyes squinted with decades of kitchen smoke exposure.

"You must be the new kid," he said gruffly, crossing his bulky tattooed arms over his broad chest. Even without raising his voice, Thomason had a rumbling bass that easily carried over the kitchen's clanging din. "Christ, you're shorter than I expected. Think you've got what it takes to keep up around here?"

You nervously clutched your knife kit closer while trying to not look as flustered as you felt. "Y-yes, chef!" 

You swallowed hard, hyper aware of everyone around you now watching the interaction. "I, uh...I came ready to work as hard as it takes. Whatever you need from me."

Thomason grunted, squinting at you for another long moment in consideration. Then he jerked his head towards the back. "Get changed out quick and meet me back here in 5. I'll get you started on prep and we'll see what you're made of. Don't keep me waiting."

"Yes, chef!" you responded immediately, wincing at how high your voice had gone up an octave.

Without another word, Thomason turned and strode back into the controlled chaos of the line, immediately redirecting his attention to sauces and garnishes. Letting out a shaky breath, you scurried towards the changing rooms, heart jackhammering.

Well, you were officially in the thick of things now...

You hustled back out to the kitchen, trying not to look frazzled from your rushed change. A young Hispanic line cook spotted you and waved you over to his station.

"You the newbie?" he asked, not unkindly. When you nodded, he jerked his head towards the walk-in refrigerator. "Thomason wants you to start by breaking down some of the produce delivery for prep."

"Got it, thanks," you replied, eager to prove yourself. The line cook gestured you through the door into the immense chilled walk-in.

You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the cold, taking in the sights and smells of the impressive stockpile. Shelves upon shelves were stocked with an array of fresh seasonal produce - crates bursting with leafy greens, bushels of root vegetables, flats of vibrantly colored tomatoes, exotic fruits, and mushroom varieties you had only read about.  

Your culinary school had humble basics for ingredients, nothing like the bounty of locally-sourced, meticulously selected provisions that Haus Kitchen demanded. You felt a thrill at getting to work with such an extraordinary pantry.

Respirating clouds puffed from your mouth as you scanned the inventory tagging system. You had been taught similar protocols in your food safety courses, but there was something exhilarating about putting that knowledge into practice in a real professional environment.

Grabbing a stack of plastic totes, you made a game plan for which items to start prepping first based on perishability levels and what would be needed for that evening's specials. Though you started out slow at first, you steadily built up a cadence of meticulously cleaning, trimming, and sorting into appropriate storage containers.  

By the time Thomason stuck his head in to check on you an hour later, you had developed an efficient system and made solid progress through a mountain of deliveries.

The head chef grunted in approval as he inspected your neat stacks of prepped produce, crossing his arms as he looked you up and down with a critical eye.

"Not bad, kid," he rumbled. "Clearly know which end of a knife to use, at least. C'mon back out, got some protein fabrication for you to tackle next."

You diligently followed Thomason back out to the main kitchen, wiping some sweat from your brow with your sleeve. Despite the industrial cooling system, the heat blazing from the ovens and range tops made the open kitchen feel like a furnace.

As Thomason led you to a stainless steel butcher's block island, you couldn't help but gawk at the array of gleaming knives hanging from magnetic strips overhead. The blades were works of art - sleek, razor sharp, and clearly extremely expensive.

Gesturing you over, Thomason grabbed a boning knife and twirled it deftly before handing it to you. "Let's see how you handle breaking this down."

He gave the block a solid smack with his meaty palm, indicating for you to get started on the glistening slab of beef tenderloin before you. Taking a steadying breath, you gripped the bone-handled knife firmly and leaned over the cutting board.

"Yes chef," you murmured before carefully piercing the thick cut of meat, angling the blade with practiced precision from all your training.

Around you, the kitchen bustled with the usual rattling pans, sizzling ranges, and Thomason's occasional barked orders. But as you fell into the rhythm of deftly separating fat and sinew, the noises began to fade from your awareness.  

You were completely focused on your knife work, confidently sawing through the tender flesh as you reduced the tenderloin down to portions and trimmings for other stations to further break down. It was meditative, almost hypnotic, the way you instinctively slid the blade along rendered paths of butchery.

After your initial intimidation of the intense Haus environment, you started to find your groove and calm amidst the choreographed insanity surrounding you. You were so laser-focused on the satisfaction of properly executing each slicing technique that the rest of the kitchen chaos became mere white noise.

You had no idea how long you stayed absorbed in the butchery, but eventually you became aware of a presence at your elbow. Glancing up, you nearly jumped to see Harry Styles watching you work with an unreadable expression, hands shoved into the pockets of his slim-fitting slacks.

His dress shirt was rolled up to his elbows and the fitted cotton fabric clung to his toned arms and chest, a few chest hairs peeking out of his slightly undone top button. A single necklace rested in the divot between his sculpted collarbones, drawing your eye to the alluring hollow of his throat as he swallowed hard.

You froze mid-slice, mesmerized by watching the tendons in Harry's wrist and forearm flex as his hands flexed restlessly in his trouser pockets. After a beat, his pillowy lips curved into an easy smile, crinkling the delicate crow's feet at the corners of his kaleidoscope green eyes.

"Afternoon," Harry said in that lazy, husky drawl that used to make millions of fans swoon. He flicked his eyes down to your handiwork before bringing them back up to your face. "Looking good there, newbie."

You blinked, not trusting your ears for a moment before realizing with a jolt that Harry was very much real and quite close. Like, unnecessarily close for your over-stimulated brain to handle.

"Uh...I-I, um...th-thank you?" you croaked out, wanting to cringe at how lame you sounded. Get it together, this wasn't the time to geek out–you instructed yourself.

But Harry didn't seem to notice your fumbling, simply giving you a dimpled half-smile before reaching around you to snag a stray piece of trimming from the butcher's block. He inspected it contemplatively before popping it into his mouth, those plump lips wrapping obscenely around the bite as he chewed and ruminated with relish.

"Perfection," he declared after swallowing, shooting you another crooked grin like you were co-conspirators sharing an inside joke. With a subtle wink, Harry pivoted on his boot heel and sauntered off, whistling a jaunty tune.

As he retreated, you risked a glance down at his form-fitting trousers shamelessly admiring the way the fine fabric cupped the ample curves of his pert backside. Even at his age, Harry Styles had the muscle-toned body of a man decades younger - long, lean muscles taut under golden tanned skin.

You blinked hard and shook your head, annoyed at catching yourself ogling your new boss like a drooling fangirl. Pull it together! This was totally inappropriate and unprofessional. You had zero business daydreaming about someone who gave you your paycheck, no matter how obscenely famous and heartthrob-ishly handsome they were.

Firmly re-focusing on your knife work, you determinedly put Harry from your mind and tried to re-immerse yourself in the rhythm and refuge of the butchery. But the memory of his distractingly lush mouth so close kept replaying over and over, preventing you from recapturing your previous sense of meditative flow. 

Dammit, you needed to get a grip! This kind of inappropriate crush on your employer was exactly the kind of silly, immature behavior that would make you look like a unprofessional joke in a serious kitchen environment. Blowing an opportunity like this was not an option.

Later, as you untied your apron strings and joined the team in breaking down the last stations for cleaning at closing, Thomason sidled up alongside you. You braced yourself for more of his typical gruff rebukes or criticisms.

Instead, the veteran chef simply gave you a long, considered look before saying gruffly, "You did good work today, kid. I can already tell you got the stuff to handle it around here if you keep your head down."

You blinked up at him in surprise before managing a small smile. "Thank you, chef. I really appreciate that."

Thomason grunted noncommittally before wandering off, likely to oversee something else. As you tidied your workstation, you couldn't help feeling a small glow of pride. Despite the craziness of your first day, you had seemingly passed this initial trial with flying colors.

As you left through the back entrance into the quiet night air, you took a deep breath and allowed yourself a satisfied smile. Maybe, just maybe, you really did have what it took to succeed in this highly competitive environment after all. For tonight at least, you had handled the punishing pace and standards. Tomorrow was another day to prove yourself all over again.

***

Your day started before sunrise the next morning, brewing a strong coffee and reviewing the notes you had taken the previous evening about which menu items needed prepping. By the time you arrived at Haus, reinvigorated by the crisp morning air, the kitchen was already a hive of activity in preparation for lunch service. 

The intense scrutiny under which you worked only amplified with the daylight. Every slice, every sauté was carried out under the watchful eyes of Chef Thomason and his steely gaze. More than once, you felt his presence looming over your shoulder, inspecting your work with the same critical eye as a diamond cutter examining a flawless gem.

"This slice is uneven," he barked, startling you. You flinched, resisting the urge to make excuses as he continued, "The portions all need to be identical for plating. Paying attention to details like that is the difference between a sloppy meal and a stellar one. Don't let it happen again."

"Yes, chef," you replied tightly, making a minor adjustment to your knife work. Though his words stung, you had to admit Thomason was completely right. In a restaurant of this caliber, any minor imperfection could spell disaster.  

You redoubled your efforts, pouring all of your concentration into each preparation, each plate. By the time the end of your shift rolled around, you were drenched in sweat, your feet screaming from being on them for 12 hours straight. But you had successfully made it through day two without any major mishaps.

As the whirlwind of dinner service finally calmed to a stopping point, you stood in the kitchen obediently waiting for Thomason's inspection and inevitable critique. But to your surprise, he merely gave a curt nod of approval before waving you off.

"Not bad, newbie," he grunted. "Get a good night's rest. We'll need you back bright and early tomorrow."

Those few gruff words of acceptance warmed you more than any high praise could have. For Thomason, a man of very few words, his small nod seemed to indicate you were, for the moment, living up to his exceedingly high standards.

The high from that small victory buoyed your spirits as you made your way towards the back exit, already dreaming of the few hours of sleep you might be able to grab before starting the cycle over again. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you nearly bowled someone over coming around a corner.

"Whoa there!"  

You froze, looking up into the grinning, mirthful eyes of Harry Styles himself. Up close, the force of his charm and magnetism practically crackled in the air around him like a physical force. His sweater clung distractingly to his lithe, muscular frame and his chestnut hair was casually tousled. A pair of small diamond studs glinted in each ear.

"Sorry about that, H-Harry," you stammered, resisting the urge to take a flustered step back. You were vividly aware of just how little physical space separated the two of you. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

If he noticed your frazzled state up close, Harry didn't let on. His pink lips merely curved in an easy, dimpled smile. "No need to apologize. I don't usually make a habit of lurking around blind corners, to be fair."

You laughed before you could stop yourself, surprised at how easily he was putting you at ease despite your elevated heart rate. Up close, Harry's eyes weren't just green - an entire kaleidoscope of colors ranging from jade to emerald to amber seemed to shift and dance in his gaze. It was...dazzling, frankly.

Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to take a subtle step backwards, putting a more professional amount of space between the two of you. The last thing you needed was to do something wildly inappropriate that would get you fired before the end of your first week.

"Still, I should have been paying better attention to my surroundings," you replied, aiming for a respectful, levelheaded tone. "It's been a really intense couple of days just trying to stay on top of everything."

Harry nodded in understanding, arching one perfectly sculpted brow. "Thomason hasn't let up on you at all, I take it?" 

When you shook your head ruefully, he chuckled. "I know that seems like his permanent state - gruff, perpetually unsatisfied, and grumpy as a hibernating bear. But honestly, the fact that he hasn't fired you already is a good sign you're doing well."

You blinked at him in surprise. "Wait...really? But he critiques everything! I feel like I've gotten nothing but corrections so far."

"Exactly." Harry's dimples flashed as he grinned. "That's how you know he sees potential in you. If Thomason didn't think you had what it took, he wouldn't waste his breath giving feedback. He'd just cut you loose and hire someone else to start over."

His words were like a soothing balm on the anxiety and self-doubt you'd been carrying around for the past couple of days. You hadn't realized that Thomason's critical approach was actually a twisted form of acceptance and mentorship. The revelation caused the hard knot of tension between your shoulder blades to finally release.

"Huh," you exhaled, unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips as you finally understood Thomason's tough love. "I guess I should take that as a compliment then."

"Absolutely," Harry agreed with an approving nod. Then his expression softened around the edges, growing earnest as his gaze searched yours. "Look, I know it's a huge adjustment and the pace here can be absolutely brutal starting out. But for what it's worth...I think you've got what it takes to be something really special in this kitchen."

You felt yourself flush at his unexpected praise, your stomach fluttering with a swarm of nervous butterflies. Harry held your eyes for a lingering moment before seeming to mentally collect himself.

Clearing his throat, he flashed you one more crooked grin. "But don't take my word for it - the proof will be in your work. Stay focused and trust the process. I've got faith you can handle it."

With that, he brushed past you, his shoulder grazing yours in a way that made your entire body buzz with friction. As Harry sauntered off down the hallway, you couldn't stop yourself from turning to watch his retreating form - the easy, rolling gait, the tantalizing sway of his hips below the slim cut of his trousers, the tousled waves of his chestnut hair.

You let out a shaky exhale, feeling off-balance and electrified all at once. Get a grip, you scolded yourself firmly. That was your boss - your incredibly famous, wealthy, and wildly attractive boss. Daydreaming was a one-way ticket to catching inappropriate feelings and potentially torpedoing your entire career before it even started.

And yet...you couldn't quite silence the part of your brain reliving Harry's velvet tone and intense eye contact as he professed having faith in your abilities. Just the casual warmth of his voice and proximity had set your heart pounding in a way it hadn't since you were a hormonal teenager, utterly dazzled by his rock star persona.

Shaking your head, you forced yourself to turn on your heel and head for the exit. Overthinking could only lead to dangerous territory. You needed to stay laser-focused on your work - that was the only way to succeed at Haus and make your culinary dreams a reality.

As you stepped out into the fresh evening air, you paused for a moment on the deserted back stoop, closing your eyes and taking a few centering breaths. When you opened them again, you felt the last fluttering tendrils of Harry's heated presence dissipate, replaced by a familiar sense of determined calm.

This job was your priority now, not silly schoolgirl crushes or indulging fantasies about your wildly unattainable boss. You knew better than to get distracted by daydreams that could only lead to self-sabotage. 

With a decisive nod, you strode towards your car with renewed focus. You would prove yourself at Haus through your skills and work ethic alone. No other agenda, no unprofessional entanglements allowed. 

Your passion was cuisine, creating nourishing dishes that delighted - that had to remain your sole priority. You couldn't afford any distractions from that lest you squander this incredible opportunity. Steadying your breathing, you looked forward with fresh clarity and resolve.

Tomorrow was a new day to earn your place in Harry's formidable kitchen. And this time, you vowed, you were utterly prepared to meet the challenge with your complete and undivided focus.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! this is an idea for a new series that will probably have 6 parts??? i guess. but do tell me if you like it! because there's no use in writing when nobody reads 😭😭

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[dejwrldarchived]

summary — the story of how international rockstar & the international pop star met at gojo satoru's party

warning readers discretion is advised ⸻accumulated word count of 4.9k, female reader, rockstar!choso, popstar!reader, famous jjk au, told in third pov (choso pov), mentions of gojo being an actor, alcohol consumption, profanity, mentions of yuji, kechizu, & eso, kechizu and eso are described as humans, mentions of choso winning a grammy, mentions of grandpa itadori owning a onigiri shop, setting: tokyo, japan, thigh fucking, do not do the do in your grandpa’s onigiri shop, minors do not interact!

sticky note from deja — somebody asked how choso and reader would have met. so i am here to write that! i accidentally deleted the ask lmfao. so here is something quick, that turned into something long. this fic is a standalone from my previous choso fic, it takes place before that fic though | divider credit @/v6que

Choso wasn’t the biggest fan of parties when he had just gotten off tour three days ago and wanted to spend his one-month hiatus disconnecting from practically everything and everyone. He knew as soon as the month ended, it would be crunch time to prepare for his next album—plus being a judge on this music competition show. He wanted to prepare himself mentally and spend time with his brothers. But here he was wall hugging with a drink at one of Gojo Satoru’s parties. The insane thing about this party is that it was at Satoru’s place; he oddly trusted every celebrity that littered his place to be comfortable with it. Choso’s anxiety would go through the roof at the thought of someone possibly spilling wine on his couch, but this was Gojo Satoru. If he needed an interior designer to redecorate his place in four days—he’d do it. 

“You’ll never guess who just messaged me saying they’re coming through because they’re in Japan for two weeks.” Satoru’s voice shrieked over the music. He waved his phone in Choso’s face so aggressively that Choso couldn’t see what he was showing him. 

“The Y/N L/N.” He said. “The three-time Grammy award-winning one!”

“I’m a Grammy winner.” Choso joked, sipping from his cup, and Satoru’s crystal blue eyes stared at the raven-haired male as if he’d grown an extra arm. 

“But you aren’t a three-time Grammy award winner, and I know you, Choso. We all know each other.” He corrects as he eyes his best friend, Geto Suguru, playing pool with movie director Nanami Kento. “So, if you see her. Don’t be weird. You tend to be weird around beautiful women.” 

Choso’s lips parted to argue, but Gojo just shook his head, not wanting to hear whatever excuse would come out of the rockstar’s mouth before eventually going to tend to his other guests. Choso took that mental note to avoid the woman altogether. He had heard about her. If you didn’t, you had to live under the ground because everyone knew her. Even here in Japan, she had a solid fanbase. She was Pop’s current it girl, and Choso highly doubted she was going anywhere at the time, especially considering that her latest single was Number 1. 

As Choso stepped outside on the balcony of Satoru’s luxury penthouse, the sound of the music blasting was left behind as he glanced out at the skyline of downtown Tokyo. His mind attempted to find peace until a voice interrupted his thoughts. 

“Crap, someone found my hiding place.”  

When Choso glanced over, he saw her. The one that Gojo was raving about her arrival. He straightened himself up, immediately remembering Satoru’s words. He was in front of a rising music legend at the moment. The talk of Japan since the news dropped that she was coming here. 

“You do know the party host is currently anticipating your arrival?” He closed the gap between them as she stepped closer so she could hear him a bit better.

“I mean, yeah. But I just wanted to enjoy the alone time before I’m bombarded with the sea of taking selfies with so many people,” She responds with a chuckle. “I stole this bottle of champagne from his bar, though. I hope he doesn't mind.” She sips from the bottle before placing it down.

“You’re hiding from the party, huh? Didn’t think a rockstar wouldn’t be the life of a party right before him.” 

Choso’s cheeks heated at her words. One.) Her eyes scanned him as if she was checking him out. Two.) He realized that she may have known who he was. 

“I get one month off after a worldwide tour. I kinda didn’t want to use this night partying with people who only hit me up when they want me on the guest lists of their party,” He responds. 

“So, what would you do?” The popstar asks. 

“Probably hang out with my brothers. It’s been months since I saw them in person.” Choso comments with a sigh. “We have so much catching up to do,” 

“Then let’s go,” She responds as she turns around to grab her miniature purse that Choso was sure could only fit about three things at most. 

“Huh?” He questions. “Did you not hear me say that the party's host is waiting for you,” He repeats.

“I did, and I want to go with you to hang with your brothers,” She sighs. “I’ve been going to parties since I arrived here in Japan. Missing one won’t hurt,” She pushes the oversized shades on her face with a smile, and Choso felt his cock & heart flutter. “I haven’t been able to enjoy Japan, so why not enjoy it with a rockstar instead.” 

Choso chuckles before he nods in agreement. “Well, how do you feel about motorcycles?” He asks. He rocks back and forth on his heels before giving the woman a grin as she is thinking.

“My manager would oppose me getting on one, but my manager isn’t here.” She points out. “So, what the hell.” She throws her hands up. “But we also have another problem.” She peeks over the balcony, and despite being many floors up from the ground, she can still see the flashing of paparazzi cameras. 

“Oh, I came in through the backway. I’ve been to Satoru’s penthouse parties many times and learned the many exits and entrances. Don’t worry; your fans won’t get any photos of you leaving a party with some sleazy rock slash alternative musician.” He grins at her and decides to enter the place, fully not expecting her to follow behind him. 

Choso can only imagine the photos if they were caught together. They probably would think he was corrupting her, or she was in her bad girl phase. Either way, he didn’t mind. But he hated people in his business, and being seen with her meant people would be in his business. It’s a reason why he’s paying off restitution to a paparazzi guy. The guy was in his business, and Choso may have broken his camera. 

“Wait up! I’m coming!” Her voice screams over the music as she catches up to Choso to grab upon the black leather jacket he wore. 

Just like that, the international rock and pop stars quickly left Gojo Satoru’s party. Choso had taken the elevator to the second floor, Y/N not far behind him as she was more aware of her surroundings than he was. Then, they used the emergency fire exit to exit the building. There, Choso’s BMW R18 motorcycle was where he left it. He picked up the spare helmet and gave it to Y/N.

“Just hold on to me. I promise I won’t hurt the world’s favorite pop princess.” He pulled the helmet over his face as she giggled at his comment.

“I hope not because my fans would want your head on a pike.” She smirked as she got on the motorcycle right after him. Instantly, Y/N’s arms are snaking around his waist. 

“Well, good thing I also have insane fans.” Choso backfires before turning on the motorcycle, the engine roaring out Y/N’s snarky comment in response. 

Choso knew that his brothers probably were at Yuji’s grandfather's onigiri shop because on Fridays, it’s busier than usual, and the old man was too stubborn to hire anybody else when he had (and Choso quote) ‘strong grandsons to help an old man out.’ Choso did not pay for the ten-year-old shop renovations for him having to come back from tour to throw on an apron and go home smelling like seawood and rice. But it was pretty late; the shop was probably closed, and his siblings were circled around a table eating what hadn’t been sold. Yuji would blabber on about his senior year and exams. Because of his dance classes, Eso would most definitely have his leg prompted up on a chair with bags of ice on it. In contrast, Kechizu head would be into his Steam deck console to even care about Yuji swiping fish cakes off his plate. He knew his brothers like he knew the lyrics he wrote; they were imprinted in his brain because they were all he had if fame, money, and luxury were taken away.  

When he parked the motorcycle, he helped Y/N off it and removed the helmet. “I hope you like Onigiri.” He says. 

“Well, I only tried it once from a convenience store.” Her fingers combed through her braids that traveled down her back before smoothing out the black jumpsuit she wore. 

“I promise these are better.” He held the door open for her, and as he had expected, the place was closing. Chairs were placed on most tables except for the one his brothers occupied. 

All of them had different dads; it was a frequent talking point in Choso's interviews with magazines, radio stations, and so on. Yes, the world knew their mother, who wasn’t the best mom—slept around. It wasn’t a secret; maybe it did help some bloggers throw jabs at him. However, Choso wasn’t ashamed of where he came from and how he was raised. Regardless if all his brothers looked differently, they were still his brothers. So what if Yuji resembled his father with his pastel pink-shaded hair and bright eyes? Or Eso, who was the tallest despite being the middle child and he had a passion for ballet dancing. Then Kechizu, who people assume was the youngest, was as quiet as can be—very observant but knew every fuckin’ fact about some retro video game. They all acted so differently—looked so differently, but they were still so close as if they were raised in the same household. 

“Holy shit!” Yuji exclaimed as his eyes beamed at the door when he saw Choso and Y/N walk in. “Holy shit!” He repeated. 

“Language,” Choso exclaimed as he stepped forward to ruffle Kechizu’s green-colored hair. The second youngest child swatted his brother’s hand as he tried to continue to play Fortnite. “Do we have room to add another to the table?” 

“Of course, the Y/N L/N is in my presence. Todo is going to freak out when I tell him.” Yuji squeals as he moves his chair over for Choso to add a chair in between him and Yuji for the pop star. 

Y/N gives them a smile that Choso has seen her give to many people—interviewers, musicians, her fans. She took the seat in between Yuji and himself, and Choso couldn’t help but to slap the back of his younger brother's head as the pastel pink-haired teenager leaned back to take a peek at Y/N’s while she sat down.

“So are you two like-”

“It’s none of your business,” Choso interjected as he glared at Yuji because he just had to be the curious cat within the brothers.

The group continued to eat, with small conversations about things from the tour to Y/N’s music. Even though she had just met his brothers, she fit in perfectly with them. Granted, he didn’t like that she did about five math problems for Itadaori. The way she made the room feel much brighter made Choso’s cheeks heat as he observed the room. Now she was talking about dance with Eso, completely lost in the topic as they gushed about the first dance classes they took. 

“I was eight when I took my first dance class. It was ballet; I practically had two left feet.” She chuckles after taking a bite of the onigiri. “You have wonderful legs, Eso, so I know you’re a killer dancer.” She compliments him. 

Her glossed lips formed a straight line as she thought about something, “You know, I have a show at this festival before I go home. If you don’t have any plans, I’m down a dancer for my team. I know it’s short notice, but some pretty important people will be in the crowd…” Her voice trails off as a smile appears on Eso’s face. “Only if you’re down. Don’t feel pressured because it’s me.”

“I would be honored. Send me where you guys rehearse, and I’ll be there.” Eso smiles at her as they exchange phone numbers and socials.

“Well, since you’re giving out opportunities. Can you set me up to meet a couple of people?” Yuji opened the notes app on his phone with his list. “Jennifer Lawrence, Tom Holland, maybe Megan thee Stallion too.”

“You have a rockstar older brother. Why can’t you ask him?” Y/N questioned as her eyes playfully glared at Yuji. 

“He said, and I quote…I refuse for you to embarrass me.” Yuji mocked Choso’s tone and was met with a chopstick thrown at him. 

Just as Choso was about to interject, Wasuke Itadori came from behind, questioning who would close up. Silence overcame the group, and Yuji even slumped lower in his seat to prevent himself from being chosen. He had closed the shop for three days straight because his brothers were ever so busy with their lives. 

“Choso, since you have a guest…you guys will close up.” Wasuke tugged on his jacket just as Yuji and the others collected their things to leave. “Before you lie and say you have some band thing, I know you’re off tour and on vacation.” 

“Shit,” Choso uttered as he stood to collect the shop’s keys from the older guy. “We’ll clean up and lock up the shop. Don’t need to worry.” 

“Good, and don’t keep your lady friend out so late. That’s not very gentlemanly. But what can I say? Chivalry is dead when it comes to your bunch.” He gives Y/N a wink as he leads the others out of the shop, leaving the two musicians all alone.

“You have a unique family.” Y/N stands.

“You don’t have to stay to help me close up? Like he said, I don’t want to keep you out so late.” Choso tears his leather jacket off and tosses it on one of the chairs. 

He sported a black t-shirt that reasonably fitted him. His biceps bulged just a bit with each flex of him picking up dishes to clean them in the kitchen. Even Y/N couldn’t help but stare as he moved around the eating area. 

“I don’t mind helping, plus you’re kinda my ride back to where I’m staying.” She collected the other dishes and followed Choso into the kitchen.

“Well, let’s hurry because I don’t want to have you out too late. You probably have something to do in the morning.”

“Just rehearsal that starts at noon.” 

“I remember those days. Gosh, so glad the tour is over with.” He emptied the plates and put the dishes in the sink. 

“How was the tour for you? From the looks of social media, it seemed like it wasn’t a dull moment,” She points out as she rolls her sleeves up. She took the place next to Choso with a cloth to dry the dishes that Choso was washing.

“Fun. Sometimes, I love being on the road, but I like being around my family more. I get homesick like shit when I’m touring. But when I go out and perform—do what I love to do, and it reminds me why I do it.” Choso explains while passing a dish to Y/N to dry. “It feels like just yesterday I was singing in bars in Roppongi district.”

When he turned his head, he was met with her gaze. His whole body betrayed him because he immediately felt the heat in his cheeks. When Choso blushed, it was as noticeable as can be. His cheeks turned an embarrassing shade of red that took minutes to go away. 

“I’m sure your brothers are very proud of you.” She smiles and places another plate to the side. 

“What about you? It’s your first time performing here?” He asked. 

“Yeah, I’m nervous. But it’s nothing I can’t handle.” 

He hummed at her words before the two returned to washing the dishes. Their arms briefly bump into each other, and they find themselves uttering apologies for something so subtle. 

“So, I’m curious to ask. Since other than the news of you performing at this music festival this week. Are you still dating that guy? That actor…” His voice trails off, wondering if that was an intrusive question. 

“Why’d you ask? For yourself or your little actor friend Satoru?” Her elbow nudges against his side after she puts another dried plate to the side.

Choso was quiet for a second. When he talked to Gojo earlier, the actor didn’t seem interested in the popstar—but it was Gojo. He had his way of trying to get with someone that left many (including Gojo) confused. Choso wouldn’t deny that Y/N was attractive, but he knew she had heard it from many guys. Perhaps she didn’t want someone to view her in a lens that she’s used to the whole world viewing her as. The sultry, sexy popstar whose Playboy photoshoot went viral on every social media platform down to fuckin’ Reddit. 

“Who knows with Satoru? His publicist ensures his love life is on lock. But for me, I don’t know either.” He foolishly admits. He grabbed a hand towel, dried his hands with it, and turned to face the hideous cat clock that was ticking with each second.

“You don’t know?” She asked; she stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the clock—but of course, Choso didn’t mind. 

Choso sighs and tosses the cloth to the side, “If I admit it, I’ll feel like I’m viewing you in the same lens that every other guy views you as. The sexy pop star who caused a guy to faint when he met you,” Choso chuckles. “Just forget I asked..” 

“Hm, you view me as something other than a sexy pop star.” She stepped forward, and Choso could get a whiff of warm vanilla-scented perfume. Her eyes glanced up at him through her lashes, and again, she saw the faint red color stain Choso’s cheeks.

“From this conversation and you ditching a party despite being the main reason everyone came, I can tell that you want to be viewed through a lens other than the sexy popstar,” Choso admits. “And I think that’s why you decided to come with me. You knew I would be able to view you in said lens without trying.” 

He couldn’t read her expression, but he could tell just by her taking a step forward, suffocating his personal space, that he was correct. He bites at his lower lip before speaking again, stepping forward also. “If I’m right, selfishly enough—I’ll make you mine right now.”  

“Quite bold of you to say Mr. Rockstar because if I remember correctly, in your GQ interview, you don’t do relationships because you hate people being in your business. The world’s most popular rockstar slash alternative musician and the pop’s current it girl being together…everyone will be in our business.” 

“Fair point, but I guess that’s a risk I’ll take and many NDAs to give out.” 

Choso was always a man to make the first move, but here, the popstar was leaping forward to kiss him. Gosh, he let her. If he could, he’ll let her use him as she pleases. His hand guided her to the top of the counter as he kissed her deeply. Her fingers combed through his dark locks of hair, tugging gently for a response just to slip her tongue into his mouth. She tasted so good. It's like the best bottle of champagne that someone can offer. A moan vibrates from the back of Choso’s throat as the two make out. Tongues taste each other like the last meal you two can have. 

When they broke apart, Choso cupped Y/N’s face. His thumb drags alongside the soft flesh of her cheeks. “I don’t think we should take this any further in his fuckin’ onigiri shop—but fuck.” He sighs. “I don’t think I can make it to my place.” His eyes averted behind Y/N at the employee bathroom. 

It was hardly used, considering that Wasuke practically ran the shop himself. Usually, it is only used when one of the brothers stops by. 

“You can’t be that horny not to wait.” Y/N laughs before she feels Choso collect her hand and press it against his crotch. Her eyes enlarged at what she was feeling.

“Look what you’ve done to me; I can’t wait.” His head fell upon her shoulders, and his words were a stubborn whine. 

Y/N pushes him back from in between the space of her thighs, and she hops off the counter and walking towards the bathroom. Like a dog receiving a treat, Choso follows behind Y/N in the bathroom. When the two were in the enclosed space, he turned her around so that she was facing the sink. His hands unzipped the front of her jumpsuit while his lips ghosted over her brown skin. He was nipping at spots on her neck like a hormonal college student. 

“If I knew that I was going to be receiving dick from the Choso Kamo, I would have worn something much easier to work around.” She helps him pull the upper part of the jumpsuit down. 

Her breast broke out the tight spandex material as soon as it came down, and Choso felt him grow even harder—aching, entirely for her. His hands snaked around the front of her waist to feel inside her nude, seamless panties. 

If Choso concentrated hard enough, he could feel his precum stain his bottoms at the feel of how wet she was. His index and middle fingers that strummed countless guitars and rubbed slow circles on her clit. With the mirror that was above the sink, he was able to see her come undone. It was similar to pulling at a loose piece of thread on a piece of clothing and watching it unravel with each pull. Y/N melted in front of him. Her plump lips gasped apart to let out a sweet tune: her moans. With each motion of his million-dollar fingers, she moans louder—this time gasping out his name like a lyric in one of the love songs she’s written. 

Before Choso wanted to quicken his teasing, he unbuckled his belt quickly. The sound was like music to Y/N’s ears because she attempted to step out of her jumpsuit, but Choso stopped her with a brief slap on her ass. It took her by shock, but she felt herself grow wet at the feeling of the sting going away. 

“Who said you were getting my dick tonight?” He asks as he pushes the jumpsuit down. 

“I’m the world’s biggest pop star now, I think I deserve it.” Y/N points out as Choso nips at the tip of her ear. 

“And I’m the world’s biggest rockstar, with the current #1 album on the charts. So I think I outrank you at the moment.” He smirks as he’s pulling his boxers down just a bit for his cock to spring out beautifully. 

“My tour grossed the highest,” She proudly bragged.

“In your dreams, pop star.” Choso's fingers hook the band of her panties, sliding them down—his hand palms at the fatness of her ass. 

Choso could give her what she wanted. Stuff her full with his cock, but she’s been given what she wanted ever since she established herself as this star. 

“So, you’re just going to edge the world's most popular pop star on like this?” She questions; a teasing tone drops from her tongue, and her eyes stare at him through the mirror.

“Something like that,” Choso brought his hand up to his mouth, gawking up a fair amount of spit to coat his cock in, and his lips curved into a devious smirk seeing Y/N eagerly wiggle herself further on him. His hardened cock poked her, but the musician had other plans. 

Instead of helping slide into Y/N’s cunt, his cock wedged in between her thighs—right above the little bit of space of her panties being pulled down. Which was as lewd as can be simply by if Choso would come, his cum not only splattered upon her thighs but decorated her panties also. With the first rock of his hips, while his cock was between her thighs, the tip of it brushed against Y/N’s folds causing her to moan. The traction causes an incoherent hiss to pass by Choso’s lips as he’s rocking his cock in between her thighs. 

“Fuck.” He uttered, realizing that if just thigh fucking Y/N was causing his brain to feel fuzzy like it did when he smoked weed for the first time—how the hell was he going to feel when he finally got the opportunity to be inside her. His fingers dug into the flesh of her waist as he’s thrusting his cock inward and outward of her thighs. Each movement caused her breasts to jiggle salaciously, and that seemed to add to the list of little things that turned him in while being crammed in this bathroom with her. 

“This isn’t fair,” Y/N shutters over the lewd sound of Choso’s cock thrusting between her thighs.

Even though she would complain about how he was only getting off at this. That her clit was throbbing and aching for attention as Choso’s cock was between her thighs. He didn’t even acknowledge her response but instead used his feet to kick at her own to bring her thighs together just a bit more. Even brought his cock up a little bit more—finally giving the woman what she wanted. His cock was just inches away from rubbing against her folds that were decorated with her slit—occasionally, the tip of his fat cock bribes against them before he guided it back to its rightful place. 

“Fuck,” Choso uttered, bringing her closer, her back now placed upon his broad chest as his hips bulldozed his cock forward. 

He was trying too hard to imagine that this is what her pussy would feel like. That the fiery pit that grew at an increasing rate in his ball sack was a feeling you’ll get immediately when you indulge in her cunt. A couple more pumps of his cock in between her thighs, Choso’s cum squirts out the tip of his cock. To add to the mess he made in between her thighs, he’s pumping his cock some more sloppily. His thick ropes of cum decorated her thighs and her underwear, and Choso finally went limp as his face was red like a tomato, and his cock was a sticky mess. He just thigh fucked the world’s most famous pop star at the moment in the bathroom of his brother’s grandfather's Onigiri shop. 

He reaches behind him at the paper towel dispenser to help clean her up. Silence overcame the two before Choso tossed the dirty paper towels in the trash. His face was heated from the interactions, and that tint of red still decorated his face shamelessly. His hair fell in his face, and some strands stuck to his forehead due to the sweat on it. He pulled his boxers and pants back up, buckling them immediately.

As the two shameless musicians were awkwardly cleaning themselves up, Choso, being the gentlemen, used a wet paper towel to wipe off Y/N’s thighs, and his phone that was shoved in his back pocket rang. He ignored it as he figured it’d be Yuji urging him to grab something he forgot in the shop. Or Gojo asking him where he ran off to. But instead, his manager was spam-calling him each time he didn’t answer the phone.

“You should answer that; it could be an emergency.” Y/N points out while fixing her clothes. She knew that as soon as she stepped foot in the apartment she was renting out, she would take the longest shower. Even so, she adored the scent of Choso imprinting her skin.                                       

“You really can’t transition off a tour without a scandal. What the hell happened to you were going to spend time with your brothers and lay low.” His manager’s voice yells through the phone, causing him to pull the device away from his ear.

“I don’t know what the hell you're talking about.”

“Answer me this, Choso. Are you with Y/N L/N right now?”

Choso’s eyes look at Y/N, who is applying a coat of clear lip gloss. Her body is leaning slightly to be closer to the mirror above the sink.

“Maybe…” Choso’s voice trails off, expecting the worst.

“Well, the world knows you’re with her right now. I sent your bodyguard and a private car to come pick you guys up immediately. They’re probably already surrounding that freakin’ onigiri shop.” 

Choso didn’t let his manager talk his head off any second longer as he ended the call to force a smile on his face that Y/N knew something was wrong. She’s seen the fake smiles from many people that she has lost count. Something happened.

“Well, my little popstar. I think our careers are about to take a turn.” 

[mingsolo]

awful summer nights

wonwoo x reader (f) / angst, romance, friends to lovers, smut / warnings: alcohol mentions, cursing, unprotected sex, that's it I think, pretty light / wc: 5k — r: 21+

For most people, the hot air of mid June, when the sun was high and its rays shone bright almost all day long, was certainly a blessing. 

Certainly not for you.

Exhausted, despite not having done much all morning, you stretch out. Laying on the fluffy rug in your room, the fan on maximum power makes your hair blow up in all directions. You wish nothing more than for the sun to go to the other side of the planet. Also, the heat is making your mind dizzier, not letting you think straight about what happened earlier in the day. You take your phone and see the text message again, as you have been doing all morning:

‘See you tonight, I have something for you.’

“Jeon Wonwoo, you idiot.” you curse under your breath. He had been away the past weeks, barely responding to your texts. He didn’t mention where he was going or what for, and you got angry at yourself for thinking he was obliged to tell you.

A new text interrupts your thoughts. Glancing over it quickly thinking it could be another message from Wonwoo you feel guilty for being slightly disappointed it’s from Yeri, your best friend, and the host for tonight’s party. 

“Come down! We're going shopping.” Yeri’s text it’s followed by a picture of her leaning against her brand new pink convertible’s door, flashing a full teeth smile and her fingers framing her small face. You scoff, texting her back that you’ll be there in a minute. With the little energy you have, you put on your shoes and leave the apartment.

“Well damn, look at this!” you say, passing Yeri by and hopping straight into the shiny pink car. You have seen pictures of it already, since she sent everyone at least fifty of them from all angles, but seeing it up close was obviously more impactful. “This is Barbie's car! everyone will be looking as you pass by on this thing” you raved, hopping in and feeling the leather seats against your bare legs. 

“That’s the point sweetie,” Yeri smiles, getting in the driver's side and putting on her sunglasses. You laugh with her, feeling the excitement to ride on her new toy, but while Yeri is busy fixing her hair on the front mirror before getting going, your mind wanders back to Wonwoo.

You are head over heels in love with him and you shouldn’t. That wasn’t the deal. 

.

.

.

At the mall, you continue to drag your feet, wiping away the sweat over your brows thanks to the open roof, letting all the sunrays land on the top of your head. Yeri on the other hand seems fresh as a daisy, coming in and out of all clothing stores, not quite finding what she is looking for. 

“Yeri, the party is today, I can’t believe you don’t have an outfit ready yet” you grunt, finally sitting on a bench inside one particular store, facing the summer sets on display. 

“Of course I have mine ready, I chose it like a month ago” she answers, picking out a dress from one of the racks. 

You arch your browns confused. “So we here on your birthday, looking for random outfits” 

“No silly, this outfit is not for me” she interrupts you with the biggest smile ever, holding against her body a baby blue crop spaghetti dress, adorned with white flowers. “It’s for you.”

“Huh?.” you shove away the dress as she hands it over for you to try it on. “I’m not wearing that.” you refuse, now being dragged to the changing room.

“Come on! a gift for me, you will look so pretty!” she pouts and nags, using her baby voice that annoys you as much as it makes you soft for her. “There’s no way you will show up at my party in a t-shirt and shorts” she huffs, arching her eyebrow knowing exactly that’s what you were planning on doing.

“I already bought you a gift you know, besides what’s wrong with shorts, it’s hot!”

“Yeah, and this dress is pretty, lightweight and short! So no excuses, try it on.” She pushes you behind the curtain of the dressing booth and waits for you. 

Defeated you do as told. Just because it's her birthday you can’t refuse letting her get away with this. And what is wrong with looking cute for once, if it’s to please your best friend on her special day? You tell yourself as Yeri hops behind you, you look in the mirror, surprised  and scandalized at how good you look with such a short skirt and prominent cleavage.

“Well take it!” She signs, getting out of the changing room with an ear to ear smile.

“Fine.” you sigh, not really mad about it at all.

.

.

.

Fuck this heat. 

You huff and puff, wiping away the drops of sweat from your forehead, again. You stand across the street from where the party is taking place, on the other side in full bloom. Music blasting loudly as far as two blocks away, hanging lights illuminating every window, from the first floor to the rooftop. You spot friends of Yeri and other familiar faces coming in and out of the main entrance, everyone seemingly enjoying themselves despite being under the humid weather. 

Pressing the gift against your chest, you breathe in and out again for the last time before walking towards the party. The other gift, your outfit— was awkwardly revealing, but it helped let the air ease the heat against your skin. 

As soon as you step in from the stone tiled floors of the entrance, you see it’s even more crowded with people than you could imagine. Seemingly half city was here and you got anxious just knowing you had to walk in the middle of all these people. You make your way between the sweaty skin of everyone you pass by, pushing your way to the stairs desperately wanting to reach the upstairs patio. 

The stairs are also fully crowded by people coming down or like you, wanting to go up to the second floor. You press yourself against the walls to let people pass you, avoiding as much as possible to come in contact with anybody. The sensation of others touching your exposed skin was a hard pass in your book.

When you finally reach the second floor, you walk straight to the big balcony. With a final shove you get to the patio doors and find with relief that there’s just a few people outside. Your eyes look for Yeri or another of your friends, desperate to find a familiar face. But definitely not that face. Just not yet. 

“Y/n!” The squeaky voice of an already tipsy Yeri greets you from the other side of the patio, coming towards you with open arms. “My god you look too good!” your friend says loudly, making you spin over your heels, modeling the perfectly crafted outfit for her. 

“You do look great Y/n, like a doll.” the voice of Dami, another of your good friends, reassures Yeri’s statement. 

“I told you Dami! She should let me dress her more often” Yeri smiles again, taking a drink from one of the waiters and handing it over to you. You roll your eyes and just let her praise you, or more so herself about how good you look.

As Yeri and Dami begin catching you up with who and what’s going on in the party so far, a shiver goes down your spine, feeling a familiar intense stare on the back of your neck. Instinctively you turn over your shoulder, spotting Wonwoo looking at you— and also a girl you didn’t know speaking enthusiastically to him, arm intertwined with his. You look away immediately, trying to catch up with what your friends were saying. 

“Stop, I’m not your barbie,” you shove Yeri’s hand off from pinching your cheek, and take a sip of your drink. With your free hand you put the gift on her hands. “Happy birthday again, here’s for another year keeping up with your shenanigans.” you say, kissing her cheek with a loud smack. 

Yeri squeaks and thanks you again, not before reassuring that the best gift is that you look so pretty today. You brush over her compliments, awkwardly trying not to spin thanks to the short length of your dress, but trying not to think much of it. You did look good after all, and it made you feel nice that people were noticing. 

“Y/n, you ok?” Dami asks with narrowed eyes. 

“I’m fine, is just the heat… it’s making me dizzy” 

“Y/n doesn’t stand the heat,” Yeri pouts, “Sorry for being born this time of the year.” She mimics crying, and you push her lightly. 

“I’m going to freshen up, walking between all the people made me kinda nauseous.” 

“Want help?.” Dami asks.

“I’m fine Dam, just wait for me here, please don’t get lost or I will never find you again.” 

You excuse yourself and walk towards the door, looking for the upstairs bathroom, glancing over Wonwoo quickly again— watching as he hasn’t shaken off the girl from his arm. You try not to mind it, getting away from the patio. As soon as you reach the bathroom you close the door behind you. 

Who could be that girl? And why is she clingling over him? You shake your head. You have no right to be thinking this way. You swore that you wouldn’t be that girl. Getting jealous over him, as if he was your boyfriend. When he is not. 

What Wonwoo and you had was a friendship, arranged with certain special terms, for those days when both of you were in need of a certain type of company. “Fuck buddies.”, Yeri concluded when you finally confessed to her that Wonwoo and you occasionally slept together without compromise. “Yeah, fuck buddies.” you sighed at the time, realizing that’s not what you really wanted. 

But it was too late now to tell him you needed more from him, that you wanted him to be yours only. He had told you when all of this started, that if someday one of you got serious with someone, that was it, no hard feelings or resentment. And you have agreed, that was the deal. Now that you thought he might find that someone to be serious with, it was more painful than you thought it would be. They’re just talking, you don’t even know if she’s with him, you tried to calm yourself, but it wasn’t working.

It's just that, you really were so afraid of losing him. These kinds of relationships never work out once someone backs up. The friendship won't be the same as it was, and it pained you that it couldn’t be more than that either.

After splashing water over your face and cleaning the sweat over your skin, you take the phone from your purse and look again at the message from this morning. ‘See you tonight, I have something for you.’ Maybe the text wasn’t even for you in the first place. Your chest tightens. Trying to forget about the whole thing, you decide to just  get a drink or two and leave, there were so many people that Yeri wouldn’t even notice anyway. 

Before getting out you decide to delete the message to avoid looking at it again and again, when three dots appear on the screen below it. Your eyes are wide open, glued to the screen. Waiting. 

.

.

.

Wonwoo’s eyes get fixated on your back as soon as you make your way to Yeri and Dami. God damn Yeri, I swear. The birthday girl smirks at him once she notices him watching. He would have to thank her later for having you come dressed like this, knowing she did it to get to his nerves intentionally. 

“Y/n doesn’t deserve to be anyone’s fuck bud, so you if you want her to be with you for real, better buckle up.” Yeri had practically threatened him over text when she knew about the arrangement between the two of you. Wonwoo wasn’t really mad that you told her about it, you were best friends and he knew Yeri could be very intuitive, and persuasive. “I know, I know…” Wonwoo texted her back. He wanted to be more than that to you as well, but he didn’t know how or when to tell you. “What if she doesn’t want this to change?” He asked.

“Tonight, tell her and find out.” Yeri then told him she was choosing your outfit for the party, letting him know he was completely ruined. And hell, he was.

He can’t avoid getting fuzzy at the sight of the very short skirt barely covering your ass. How the thin straps of your dress lay onto your collarbones and tiny drops of sweat covers your chest. A drop or two roll past your cleavage.

Well fuck me. He swears to himself, as you spin on your feet per Yeri’s request showing a little of what’s underneath your dress. He notices the people checking you up shamelessly and his blood boils with a possessive feeling that makes him groan slightly under his breath. Wonwoo shook his head. She’s not yours. He didn’t like it, thinking of you as a possession. Yet the thought was present so often lately.

By his side, Jeonghan is ranting about something loudly, making his already drunk sister laugh uncontrollably. She clings over his arm as she has done since he got up here, and tells him something he can’t really pay attention to. 

For a moment you glance over his direction, as just as quickly you look away. He gulps down the knot on his throat and wishes Jeonghan’s sister wasn’t tied up with his arm. She’s a nice girl but is so drunk already, so he tries to softly unlink their arms but she is not letting him, and he doesn’t want to shove her off just like that. Wonwoo shoots glances at Jeonghan trying to make him take the hint and take his sister away, but he is just as drunk or even more so, and even if he was sober he would make him suffer anyway.

His eyes are locked again on the back of your neck. Seeing how you sip on your drink cautiously. Then you give Yeri something and kiss her heartily. Wonwoo smiles. The love for your friends is always showing. He likes to think he is one of them. He knows he is, unless your situation changes that for you. He needed to ask, he needed to know. 

Just as he is about to politely shove Jeonghan's sister off and walk towards you, Wonwoo watches you tell something to Yeri and Dami and quickly sprinting off the patio, glancing over at him before disappearing inside. 

“Sorry, I gotta go.” He finally and firmly takes Jeonghan sister's arm off him and walks between people trying to reach you before you decide to leave for good. 

Wonwoo notices you entering the bathroom, closing the door behind you. He sighs relieved. At least he knows there’s only one way for you to get out there, so he’ll wait so you can go to a place without people, and talk. His right hand goes to the inside of his pocket, toying with the contents inside, for a moment he is hopeful.

About ten minutes later anxiety takes the best out of him. He thinks of calling you, but decides on texting you instead, hoping you decide to come out and talk to him.

“Are you alright? I’m outside.”

You read the message a few times not knowing what to respond to. Why?. Wasn't he accompanied now?. You type in a response, but keep deleting what you write over and over. If he’s outside the door, what's the point?. You sigh out loud, nerves and anticipation eating you alive. It’s better if you just come out and talk, he surely wants to tell you about the girl and settle things over. 

Yeah, it’s better to deal with this quickly.

As soon as you open the door you meet his eyes a few feet from where you stand. Wonwoo is leaning against the upstairs. A soft smile draws on his face when he sees you. You try to smile back normally but you only manage to make a weird grin that makes you want to throw yourself down the stairs.

“Hi,” he whispers with that low tone you know so well. “You look amazing.” He twitches trying not to look so much down over your outfit, or the lack of it. 

“Thanks, you too.” you mumble, heart thumping feeling Wonwoo’s dark eyes over your body, despite trying not to. 

“Are you alright?,” He asks again, sensing something is wrong because your eyes are kinda puffy and you can’t smile back like you always do. 

You breathe in softly, gaining courage. “Can we go downstairs, where there’s less people?.”  Wonwoo hums and nods in response, taking your hand and leading you through the sea of people down the stairs— trying not to let anyone touch you too much. Your heart beats so fast that is the only sound you can focus on, despite the loud music blasting in the house. Quickly, he finds an empty corridor, away from all the people at the party in the main halls. 

“What happened?,” He says first, back leaning onto the corridor walls. “I can tell you are upset.” 

“Uhm, it’s nothing.” 

He gets closer. “Your eyes are all big and shiny like when you cry or are about to.” 

He knew you too well. And it was making you feel worse about what you saw upstairs.  Just ask him. Get this over with. “Wonwoo, is there something you want to tell me about?.” 

Wonwoo seemed confused, watching you look away at him, your shoulders stiffening. “Is there something in particular that you want me to tell you?.” 

You sigh, getting frustrated.

“Is it about where I have been the past week?.” 

“No! Well, yeah, that too.” you frown, remembering he went away to God knows where for a week and didn’t tell you about it, you had to find out by texting him, receiving a “I'm out of town.” in response. “Who’s your friend from upstairs?”. 

Wonwoo sighs, a faint smile on his lips. 

“Just tell me. ” You swallow the lump in your throat. “Just tell me if this is it, I promise I won’t make things difficult for you.” 

Wonwoo leans forward, so close that it sends shivers down your spine. Then he makes you jolt as he wraps his hands around your waist, tugging his chin on the space between your neck and shoulder. “What are you doing?.” you say, not really moving or pushing him out. 

“She’s Jeonghan's sister ,” He tightens the grip around your waist, facing you again, “Why would I be here with anyone else if I told you I wanted to give you something tonight?” He couldn’t deny being amused that you were jealous over some girl he just met. But again, that’s the confirmation he needs to know that you want him as much as he wants you to be his only. 

You look at him confused and hurt, watery eyes about to burst out with tears. “What do you mean? you were hanging onto her.”

“Nuh-uh, she was hanging onto me,” He smiles, “You know Jeonghan can be an asshole if he wants to, and he just shoved her to me hoping she wouldn’t bother him too much.” Wonwoo felt bad talking of Jeonghan’s sister as if she was a thing, but the reality was that as soon as you entered the rooftop patio looking so radiant, he forgot the name she had given to him minutes prior. 

“I’m not jealous,” you press your hand over his chest, trying to push him off, but with so little strength he is not buying it. “I shouldn’t be, right? We are not together.” 

Wonwoo hums, slightly hurt from your words. But it was true, you were not yet together. 

“Come with me, this hallway is not where I want you to have what I got for you.” You frown, as Wonwoo takes your hand and leads you back between the sea of people until you both are outside by the back door of the house. 

You look up to the rooftop, spotting Yeri and the rest of your friends laughing vividly and having a great time. The rest of the people spreaded outside the house, drinking and talking, seem to pay no mind to you two.  Wonwoo passed between some bushes, leading to a stone tiled path to the back garden, two little guest bungalows at the back. Yellow lights inside of them.

Wonwoo takes out what seems like a key, and enters the one at the right side. You follow behind him, eyes wide open.

“How do you have a key for this?.” you ask him as he closes the door.

“I asked Yeri to get it for me.” 

“Huh?, Yeri?” you were confused asking yourself if your best friend was with Wonwoo on this scheme of making you feel jealous over Jeonghan’s supposed sister or what was happening. “Wonwoo!.” 

Wonwoo shushes you, which annoys a little, but you get distracted by him placing you in the seat of the couch inside the bungalow’s small living room, sitting in front of you. He then takes out a little black velvet box from his pocket, opening in front of you. 

You look at what’s inside, taking out a shiny silver necklace. Your favorite charm hanging on it. This was the same necklace you had as a child, that you lost on a trip overseas with your parents on your high school graduation. You remember telling Wonwoo on one of those nights in his apartment, lying beside him, how much you missed having it. Sadly it was custom handmade and the little jewelry store that made them had closed long before you had lost it.

Your mouth hangs open as you admire the form of the charm, identical as you remembered it. “Wonwoo… How did you find the exact one?.” 

“I know how much this charm means to you, so I looked out for the owner of the store,” He said, as he took the necklace and turned you over to put it across your neck. “I just described it to him in detail just as you told me, and he remembered exactly what it was, I just had to wait until he was done to come back.”

“Wonwoo!” you jumped out as he finished hooking the clasp of the necklace and hugged him tightly.

“I wanted to tell you something tonight,” Wonwoo buried his head on your neck again, brushing it with his lips softly. “You are the one for me, I don’t want anyone else.”

You close your eyes, letting his scent envelop you, both arms wrapped around his shoulders firmly. His lips brush against your skin as he speaks, you feel a shiver down your spine, letting his words sink into your mind. 

Wonwoo doesn’t need you to say you feel the same, cause he knows. He‘s pressed against you, and you could feel him. His love, his desire, his passion. But this time it's slightly different from the before, because he doesn’t rush things out, he stays still and lets himself be embraced by you. After a moment, you slowly break the hug and look him in the eyes, dark gaze glossy of adoration. And you know yours are the same. He leans and traces soft pecks over your shoulder blades. “I’m sorry I was away,” He lifted his head and pressed his forehead against yours. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

You let out a sigh, feeling your chest tighten by realizing he had gone to get this for you, but with your heart blooming inside you started crying softly. You smiled and he did it too, eyeing your lips until he pulled you into a kiss. His hands slowly go down from your waist to the side of your legs, finding a path under your short skirt. 

“Wonwoo,” you hum against his lips. This was Yeri’s party after all and someone could come at any minute. 

“The little devil would kill me if I let you go right now, you think she gave me these keys just so we could talk?.” A lustful smile drawn on his lips, reading your mind. “The door is locked, and you must know how good you look in this outfit.” 

You put your hands on his chest, breaking apart from his face to ask him about what he just said. “Do you love me?.” 

Wonwoo paused his movements for a second, realization hitting him hard. Your pleading eyes about to cry out again, this time a different kind of tears waiting to roll down your cheeks. 

“I do love you,” He breathes, pushing himself against you. Hurried hands run along your waist and down the curves of your ass, his fingers playing with the waistband of your underwear. “I love you so fucking much.”

You then kiss him again, this time roughly, as he grabs you by your tights and lifts you until you wrap your legs around him. Without breaking the kiss he walks over the room at the back of the bungalow. Brownish curtains reflect the yellow light from inside. Wonwoo turns around and sits on the edge of the bed, placing you on his lap. You kept kissing him, hands messing his perfectly styled hair. He's going to undo his belt, and when that’s gone, his fingers are back on your clothed heat, brushing a finger along your already wet center. 

“Can’t believe you thought I could be interested in somebody else.” Wonwoo’s voice sounds huskier than usual, pride fueling his lust over your little jealousy. “No fucking way someone else make me look away from you.”

You buck your hips against his crotch, feeling the hardness of his length. You break the kiss and quickly remove Wonwoo’s shirt and throw it away. Knowing exactly what he wants to do, you lift your hips a little, giving him access to your center. Wonwoo brushes his fingers once more, palming you over you for a while, and easily sliding two fingers inside you. A moan, and then soft whimpers come from you as his fingers begin rubbing your clit. Both stop kissing, just looking at each other as he finger fucks you with a fast pace.  Your hips roll against his hand, and he can’t look away from how your eyes get heavy lidded, and you try hard not to close them. With his free hand Wonwoo pulls down the top of your dress, exposing your breasts and he begins kissing them. You throw your head back, the pleasure of his hot tongue rolling over your sensitive nibs and the noises he makes with his mouth as he bites and licks are driving you insane. 

Wonwoo’s fingers keep sliding in and out of you and the stimulation is almost bringing you to the edge, you only resisting the urge to come because you are desperate for him to fuck you properly. Again, he seems to read your mind because next thing he’s removing his fingers, making you whine by feeling the sudden emptiness. He stands up, moving you gently, even if he wants to be as rough as he can be.

Once he’s standing up, he bends you over the bed, putting you on hand and knees. He pulls your drenched panties down until they reach your feet and throws them away. He undo the buttons of his pants first and massages the curve of your ass for a second before aligning himself with your entrance. 

“This view.” He groans, licking his lips and caressing the side of your tights softly.

“Please Wonwoo,” you whine. the spiral in your lower stomach intensifies by his words. “Fuck me already.”Wonwoo chuckles, the tip of his dick already touching your clit. You whimper as he finally pushes himself inside you, his eyes shutting down by the sensation of your tight center receiving him so well. 

“Fuck, Y/n.” he groans, hands firmly pressing at the sides of your hips. You waste no time and, driven by desire, start rolling your hips rapidly. Wonwoo’s now thrusting inside and out at a fast pace that is making you both see stars and feel numb quickly. 

He bites his lip, trying not to be too loud, with every thrust. Every time he goes in and out of your squeezing pussy feels like it might make him come, but he holds on to dear life to keep on longer. He caresses the curve from your hips, your spine and shoulders, and his eyelids get heavy. The sound of your fast breathing combined with sweat beds rolling down from your back as he pounds in and out of you driving him crazy.  He then leans, chest pressing against your back. One of his arms slides under your breasts heading towards your clit, where he begins rubbing on your clit in motion circles. 

“Wonwoo.” you moan, the contact of his cold hand suddenly pressing on your heat making you shiver. “Hard. Fast, please…”

“Yeah?,” Wonwoo groans, pushing himself now harder and faster per your command. He listens attentively to every noise you make, as his fingers rub your clit, trying to keep the same pace. His chin is resting on your shoulder blades, and you lean to the side looking for even more contact. “Just say the words, love.”

He realizes you are looking for more of him and he leans, connecting his lips with yours. As you kiss messily and hurriedly, him going in and out, your soon release feels now even more intensely on your lower stomach. 

Your legs begin to shake, you know you won't last much longer if he continues to overstimulate every sensitive part of you. With a breathy moan you announce your high is crashing over you, and Wonwoo presses himself even more onto your skin. He tugs your hair instinctively, making you cry, and in that moment you come without warning, coating him entirely. Not much longer and he is done for as well. You can feel his load filling your walls up entirely.

“Oh… fuck” he mumbles, as he spills all inside you, still hugging you tight making sure nothing gets out. You collapse in the bed, and with the little strength he has, Wonwoo grabs you by the waist, falling down with you. 

He stays for a few moments on top of you, breathing heavily, moving aside when he has recovered control of his breath. You on the other side, stay chest pressed on the bed sheets, numb body unable to move an inch. 

“Let me clean you up,” Wonwoo’s raspy voice says as he gets up slowly and walks to the bathroom. You smile, eyes still closed, heart racing inside your chest. He comes back immediately after, and you roll over letting him take care of you. 

“You don’t have to,” you mumble, beginning to recover your breath. 

“I don’t see you putting up a fight,” He chuckles, cleaning the mess between your legs with a warm towel.  “Now that you are officially mine, you will get treated like a princess.” You reflect on his words. You don’t want anyone else to have him, and you are sure he is the only one you want, but Wonwoo has never struck you as the possessive type.  

Wonwoo folds the towel and puts it away, laying by your side, watching the dim lights of the built-in lamps on the ceiling. “A part of you is mine now, as much as a part of me is yours.” he whispers, caressing your face.

You press your body against him, wrapping your arm over his chest and kissing it softly. He hums and hugs you as well, both embracing the silence of the room a little longer, in contrast with the boisterous sounds of people partying just a few feet away.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Tonight Isn't The Night

Day #7 - Prompt: Celebrate Good Times, C'mon | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Older Steddie, Man Plans and God Laughs, Grand Romantic Gesture

Eddie wants it all to be perfect. This has been a long fucking time coming, and if he fucks it up at the last second, he'll never forgive himself. Jeff and Goodie are playing chauffeur, picking Steve up at the airport under an elaborate ruse.

They're supposed to keep him busy, and then drop him off at the arena to meet up with Eddie, pre-show. Eddie rented an event space, and Gareth is helping him try to get it ready.

Eddie planned all of this. 

But Eddie's nervous. 

Gareth is crawling around the room, stringing lights so it'll be romantic, and Eddie's gonna owe that kid. That kid is forty, and a dad to two, but still. Crawling on the floor sounded like hell on Eddie's worn-out body, so Gareth had gotten down and was doing it without complaint.

They don't have time to complain. Not when Steve will be at the arena in t-minus two hours. And Eddie will need to be there, if he doesn't want Steve to realize something is up. 

Eddie watches Gareth crawl out from under a table, and Eddie wishes he was still that goddamn spry. He used to be. He used to be made of elastic, Uncle Wayne always said so. But those days, and those muscles, are long gone, eaten away by bats over two decades ago.

Eddie's hip is killing him today. As if the Upside Down has decided to rear its ugly head again, just because he's so fucking happy. It's bullshit. 

He doesn't want to take anything that might dim his memory, not today, so he takes three ibuprofen and calls it good. That will have to do. 

The ring is burning a hole in his pocket. He keeps palming it, checking, double-checking, just to make sure it's still there.

It is. 

The small box, hard against his thigh.

He's gonna ask tonight. After the show, when they're alone. He's gonna take him back to this venue, take him up on the roof and while meteors fall from the sky, he's gonna ask Steve to marry him. 

When Jeff opens the door, he's making a face that Eddie doesn't understand, not until he sees Steve.

Steve's in a bad mood, a terrible one, actually, and Eddie cups his hand over the ring box. Tonight isn't the night. Goddammit. When Steve stomps off to the bathroom, Eddie fishes the box out of his jeans pocket, and tucks it into his jacket.

"What are you gonna do now?" Gareth asks, in an alarmed whisper. 

Nothing. He'll do nothing. 

He'll listen to Steve rant and rave. He'll be here, and present, not at all thinking about the thousands of twinkling lights or meteors up above.

It's not the night. 

After the show, Steve's still pissy. The ride back to the hotel is filled with Steve bitching and moaning, and Eddie knows better than to try and offer any suggestions, not while Steve's like this. This is just venting, and if anyone knows about venting, it's Eddie. He's made it an art form over the years.

But right now, it's Steve's turn. 

And Eddie listens.

Steve's mid-rant, when he looks out the window, "Hey. Shooting star."

Then, "Oh. Another."

"There's a meteor shower tonight," Eddie explains. 

"And you didn't make plans to view it?" Steve asks, because he knows Eddie, and this is a thing they've done dozens, maybe hundreds, of times over the past two and half decades. 

"Well, a little, but you're not in the mood for that tonight," Eddie says, trying not to sound disappointed. 

He isn't.

No, he is. He really is. But he understands. Life doesn't always go your way. Some days, you're nearly eaten by bats. Others, your marriage proposal gets scrapped. Eddie's used to be fucked by life, well and good and raw, by now. 

Steve looks over at him, "I'm not in that bad of a mood. We can still look at the sky," Steve offers, and Eddie would like that. He really, really would. But he can't take Steve there. It's too much, too over the top, and he'll immediately suss out what was really on the agenda for the night. Then he'll beat himself up for ruining it. 

So, no. They can't go there.

They end up out in the parking lot of the hotel, sitting in a patch of grass that Eddie's pretty sure other people probably let their dogs piss in. But Steve's leaning against him, and that's always gonna make for a nice night.

It's quiet, and peaceful, neither of them saying a word, until Steve suddenly says, "We should get married."

And Eddie nearly chokes. 

"What, you don't want to?" Steve questions.

"Steve Harrington, I'm gonna kill you, and then I'm gonna marry you. No, I'm gonna marry you, and then I'm gonna kill you. I had a whole night planned. And then, well," Eddie says, waving his arms around Steve's head. "Pissy. So. Postponed."

Steve is just looking at him.

Eddie keeps ranting, mocking, "We should get married."

Steve smiles, and Eddie digs in his jacket pocket, handing over the velvet box, "Here. We're engaged."

Steve throws back his head and laughs, absolutely delighted and it's contagious. Eddie has to laugh, too. He's not mad. He's frustrated. 

He's in love, and not even a little surprised. Nothing ever goes his way. He has the opposite of the Midas touch. 

Except. He gets to love Steve Harrington. 

And that's a pretty big win.

After a beat, Eddie says, "Please don't tell Gareth that this happened in the hotel parking lot. He crawled all over, stringing lights, and I'll never hear the end of it."

Steve laughs, and then kisses him, "I'll never tell."

And he doesn't. There's an elaborate romantic story that's fed to Gareth and the public, but it's not the truth. Not a word.

But that's okay. That just means the real deal is only theirs. 

A secret between them, the stars, and the dog piss-soaked grass. 

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[0oolookitsme]

The Most Handsome Man

Type- One-Shot! (First one of model!h so yay!)

Verse- Model!Harry x Fashion Designer!Y/n

Word Count- 2.02k

Warnings- Smut... and oh, this is not proofread. Heheh

A/N- I'm so sorry (or am I?) for not completing the last scene lmaoo

Silence fell after all the cheering for Harry's 'iconic model walk' at the 2023 Versace Spring collection for men. He had been wearing a pink shirt, fully unbuttoned with nothing on under it, and a pair of sheer white pants on his bottom half. Everyone had raved about how no one, no one but Harry, could pull off that outfit and steal the whole show.

The one clip of him taking a turn to the left of the runway and winking at the camera filming him from a lower level with his infamous lopsided grin had everyone drooling on the floor. It was reposted again and again on all of the social media apps, quickly becoming viral all over the internet.

"Well, Y/n. Enough about Harry, it's been more than 15 minutes talking about him, it's your turn now." Graham said, narrowing his eyes when Y/n mouthed 'Oh no'.

"How do you feel about Harry walking for another brand, wearing clothes designed by another designer?" he asked, leaning on the arm of his couch as if ready for a statement that he could use to spice up the interview.

"He really pulled it off damn well, obviously. The show was marvellous, the clothes absolutely stunning and the models killed it!" Y/n replied, realizing how disappointing that must have been for the media. "And, Harry hasn't like ...signed up a contract to walk only for Gucci and wear clothes designed only by me, you know? Like whatever he does, he absolutely puts his best into it, so it doesn't really matter who he is walking for until he decides to perform partiality and walk like a god for one show and bad for another" she finished, joining everyone else with the laughter.

She glanced at Harry once, just for some validation for what she said and immediately released the tension from her shoulders the moment he passed her that damn smile.

Graham passed her a 'well done' smile, sighing and letting out a "Hmm, nice."

He shuffled the question cards in his hands and almost in no time his head shot up with his brows raised so high that Harry and Y/n just knew that whatever was coming couldn't be so nice for them. It was, no doubt, everytime a question the answer to which could get them dragged if they were to answer it wrong

"I totally forgot about this!" He shrieked, chuckling a little what seemed like evilly. "Y/n," he dragged her name, looking at her with a playful expression that made the crowd laugh again.

She couldn't help but quickly go over everything that he could've found out about in her brain. With a straight posture, she let out a tense chuckle, adding to the humour unintentionally.

"Harry, here, is a well know good-looking young man, everyone knows that. But this week, he has been named the most handsome man! His face almost corresponds with the ancient geek measurement for perfect beauty and proportion. It's called the golden triangle, you see," Graham went off, not really showing where he is going with this.

Clearing his throat, he continued. "So tell me, y/n, what is it like to be dating the most handsome man in the world?" He asked and the crowd roared with hoots, cheers, and laughter.

Oh, it wasn’t as hard of a question as they were expecting.

Harry hid his face behind his hands, pretending to be blushing hard while kicking his feet.

"Umm... it's definitely hard because he's a narcissist. And, now it's pretty safe to say I'll forever hate you for telling him this and blowing his ego off the roof," looking at Harry she grinned. "But it's nice too, he's a lovely fella," she added, nodding along with Graham.

"Leave her, Harry. She doesn't understand how extraordinary you are!"

"Oh yeah, but Graham totally does! If you take any advice from me, H, let it be this one- choose Graham," Y/n said in a faux serious tone, patting Hary's knee while looking towards the crowd, breaking out laughing when Graham too pretended to blush.

"Oh stop it, you. We know you had him at 'H'," he waved her off, looking at Harry who had his hand over his heart.

"Okay everyone, this interview has been going on for more than 30 minutes now," Graham panicked looking at his watch. "Please say a huge thanks to my guests tonight, Mr. Harry Styles and Ms. Y/n Y/ln!"

"Now what should they say, Harry?"

"They should subscribe to this channel."

"There you go, thank you."

The crowd cheered for them as they bid their goodbyes and left the stage. At the back, both hugged Graham, everyone in a hurry due to the unexpected delay. "I just can't keep up with time around you two," he said, laughing as he hurried somewhere else.

Y/n knew something was off when Harry didn't act much about being the most handsome man as they were being escorted out of the building to their car. Then, on the way, sleep overtook her. Not being a morning person and having to wake up at 5 in the morning over that was not something she could cover up with caffeine.

It was when they were nearing their home that she woke up. Something stopped her from raising her hand, turning to see she felt something heavy on her preventing her from moving even.

Just tilting her head, she smiled at the sight. Harry had intertwined their hands as his body had fallen onto hers, his head on her shoulders with his lips parted.

Thinking about all the stuff she had to do, she forgot about his tiredness. With all the shows he had done the past week, and then having to proceed with a meeting every single day and even online interviews, he hadn't even had the time to relax other than just straight up passing out the moment his head would hit the pillow.

He looked so calm that she didn't wanna wake him but the car turned in the driveway and she raised her other hand to tap his cheek. "Wake up, darling," she spoke slowly, lingering her finger near his open mouth to wake him faster.

It made her laugh, how he smacked her finger away before blinking his eyes open. "Hello there," she greeted him, feeling a lot better after her nap.

But he grunted in return, slumping down further on her.

"We are home, H. C'mon, you can go back to sleep once we're in," she said as she opened her door and dragged him along with her.

Quickly, she appreciated the driver, wishing him a good night as Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, walking towards the door slowly. "I really want to have a drink, my head hurts like it's been hit so hard," he mumbled as Y/n caught with him with her heels in her hands.

"It was probably hit hard when you were a child, considering you are pretty dumb now," she laughed, making a face at him when he clicked her on the head.

After some fumbling for the keys and failing more than thrice because Harry wouldn't stop pressing small pecks of kisses here and there on the skin that was exposed and near to him, Y/n finally pushed the door open and pretended to bang Harry on the head.

"Dear God! You will accidentally kill me someday!" He claimed, laughing when she almost wheezed while clutching her stomach. "We haven't even had a drink and you already seem drunk," he mumbled as he took off his shoes.

He walked on behind her while taking off his suit, swinging it over his arm as she was already onto pouring their drinks. She didn't need to ask what he wanted, it was always the same. Whiskey. And he knew what she'd take- white wine, no questions asked.

It was fitted in her system, that white wine freshened her up. No one knows where that came from, it just does.

Y/n passed him his glass, filled with some ice and his drink, and came to stand just opposite him with her arms on the countertop, just like his. "Cheers," she mumbled and took her first sip.

It wasn't long before they both finished their drinks and went to pour some more, sharing a guilty glance.

One drink turned into another and the distance between them began to decrease enough to make them buzz with some sort of excitement. Then the slurs turned into their mouths moving in sync as one pushed another's clothes off.

Her hair curtained their faces from one side as he picked her up, wrapping her legs around his hips. He climbed the stairs knowing there was a hundred percent chance they could topple over just because of the force they were enforcing on each other. His hands hungrily moved on her body and her hands tangled their fingers in his locks.

Turning on his heels to push open the bedroom door by his back, his feet carried them straight to the bed. Their mouths parted then, her chest heaving quickly as she lay on the bed, seemingly not sensing the importance of breathing while going for the side of his neck.

But Harry rose up just as her lips settled on his skin, chuckling sweetly at her confusion and look of helplessness.

He dropped down on his knees, on the cold hard ground.

Looking up at her as if she were a goddess, he cupped her knees and pushed them farther away from each other. The slight hint of her smell alone snatched his focused gaze from her confirming eyes, to where her drenched panties covered her center. 

Pupils darkening with each passing second, Harry placed his hand on her lower tummy, pushing down so that her hips slip, and her throbbing core grows nearer to him. "So fuckin' wet," he said in a voice so soft, and yet it sounded like a taunt.

A lopsided grin stretched out on his lips and carved out one of his dimples as raised his head up once more to take in her expression. Her eyes showered him in praise and begged him to go on, but her breath just hitched. He could tell she hadn't yet started breathing again as his cold hand started crawling up her knee, slipping up higher and closer with each drag of his palm.

His hungry fingers tapped and walked on her skin like a smooth metal ball bouncing up and down her body after slipping down from one's hand. Just as he hooked his finger on her panties elastic line, her thumb hooked itself on the other side and started pushing the thin clothing down. "Ow!" She exclaimed in a voice lower than a whisper when he slapped her hand away, clearly not expecting such harshness from the man who usually lays underneath her every time they're high on lust. 

"Don't do that again," he told her, almost frowning, before pulling the clothing down her legs in a rush he's never had before.

Inhaling deeply, he hooked his arms under her knees and pushed them up till his hands reached her boobs and the elbows just a tad above her hips. A small crisscross of his two limbs and she was flipped on her stomach. 

"Oh ...my god, H," she gasps, a chuckle leaving her mouth followed by a trembling breath. 

"Raise that ass for me, please," he asked her politely, waiting for her to oblige and let her ass rest in front of his sharp V-line. Smirking in contentment when she slowly, but surely, did so. He landed a quick slap to her asscheek before he turned and rested his back on the curve at the end of the bed, quickly hooking his arms around her thighs. 

He wanted to taste her first, just like she mostly does. "Ah, fuck," she shuddered as his tongue swiped between her puffy lips, separating them.

"So tell me, darling," he said, replacing his tongue with his thumb. "What's it like... having the most handsome man between your legs?"

Tagging: @reveriehs <3 MASTERLIST :)

[lively-potter]

— nepenthe ; part three

— genre ; age gap, angst, fluff, smut, sheltered oc, ceo jungkook, mafia/gang vibes ( kinda/sorta )

— warnings ; please note that in the beginning, the oc is in an abusive home — and if this triggers you please do not read. the oc is of age but nothing smutty will be happening for a while — but there WILL be smut. A small bit of SA is in part two and if it tiggers you, don’t read.

— intro, part one, part two

— 2024 © LivelyPotter

— find me on Wattpad ; LivelyPotter

— taglist ; @ahgasegotarmy116 @jk97bam

— word count ; 2.9k

***

SOLARIS January 22nd, 2024 Charleston, SC 

THE CHAIRMAN HAD BEEN BACK FOR TWO DAYS.

From Father's grumblings, I had gathered that everyone had decided to stay inside their houses with the doors locked and blinds closed. Mothers gathered their children and forbade them to leave the house after two pm.

I was also one of those people who made sure the doors were locked and my blinds shut. I didn't even try to go out on the roof to gaze at the stars or even peek outside of my window.

This was the effect Chairman Jeon had on us.

Too afraid to leave our houses, even though he had not done anything directly to us – well, most of us anyway.

None sought him out, apart from those a part of his Inner Circle.

According to the whispers from the women Father would come home most nights and felt enough pity for me to speak nicely to me; they spoke about the Chairman.

Most of the talk was about how intimidating his aura was, and how much he towered even the tallest of men in the area.

They spoke of how handsome he was, but most were too afraid to seek him out first, unless he sought them out on his own.

They gushed over the art inked into his skin, ranting and raving over the scary man.

You could immediately know who he was by looking at his hands, where his surname was inked in bold, intricate curved letters.

It was said that he didn't show much emotion, his face blank – as well as his eyes.

But tonight was different and some of the more courageous people would venture out of their homes. Tonight was the night that the Chairman allowed men and women of age to visit Ataraxia and have a night full of sober-less fun. Tonight would be fun, drinking, dancing, and unbridled pleasure.

I didn't know what that meant, or even what a gentlemen's club was, but I didn't think it would be good. Especially if Father had that look in his eye.

But I was happy.

Father wasn't here and I was alone.

James and Stevie would be going with him, and I was left to my own devices.

I hoped to be able to rid myself of the touches they placed on my body a couple days prior.

My lips pulled down into a sad pout.

Maybe I could watch TV, but I didn't know how to work it.

I could read, but I had read everything inside the house ten times over and it wasn't as fun reading it as before.

I sat down cross-legged on the floor and scratched at my bare legs, itching because of the scratchy carpet. In one movement, I fell back on the floor and stared up at the ceiling – sapphire-colored eyes sparkling at the opportunities I had in front of me.

"So much to do," I softly remarked to myself, "So little time to do it all."

Musing to myself, I allowed a short giggle to leave my lips when I started to roll around on the carpet, resting on my tummy – feet kicking through the air.

The sun was starting to set outside, I gathered, after a swift peek outside. I danced throughout the house, catching up on some last-minute cleaning done before Father inevitably came home.

I sang a lullaby under my breath as I checked the locks on the door once more and carried myself out of the living room – but before I could enter the kitchen, the loud ringing of the landline phone stopped me in my tracks.

A tiny gasp left my lips, while I jumped in place, eyeing the phone sitting on the hook by Father's recliner. I gulped, debating on whether or not I should answer it, but the tugging sensation in my gut told me to just go ahead and answer the phone.

Maybe it's Father.

My feet padded quickly across the carpeted floor in quick strides. I grabbed the phone and eyed it closely – thankfully finding the answer button and pressing on it. Nervously, I held the phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Girl~" Father's voice slurred on the other line.

My eyebrows bunched together, "Father?" I asked, anxiety scrunching along my spine and spreading throughout my shoulders.

"I...I need you toooo...uh, to grab me some extra cash and bring to, uh...to the...the bar." he grumbled, the sounds of loud rambunctious laughter and slowed music blaring throughout the speakers. Due to the loud noises all around, it was difficult to understand what he was saying to me.

My mouth popped open, "Umm, w-where is the m-money?" I asked hesitantly, doubt clouding my mind. How would I know where to go? Was he letting me go out? Of course, I had to bring him the money, but why now?

Was he in some sort of trouble?

I could feel Father gritting his teeth and rolling his eyes on the other side of the phone as I twiddled with my dress anxiously.

"The...money is underneath my bed–" he laughed loudly as the static voice of James entered my ears. A pang of panic ricocheted throughout my body at his voice.

"Oh o-okay, Father. I'll...be there soon." if I could even find the place. I thought to myself when the line went dead. I pressed the off button and placed the phone back on the hook, mind whirling.

"Okay." I said to myself with a swallow, "I can do this." I said to myself, feeling my hands shake.

"I can, couldn't I?" I whispered to myself, beginning to walk to Father's room. I wrinkled my nose at the putrid smell of beer and BO once I hesitantly entered the room. I pinched my nose with a gag and finally located the stack of money hiding beneath a pile of stinky clothes.

I gagged again seeing mold stick onto an old candy bar.

I grabbed one and quickly left the room before I threw up.

I ran to my room, feeling slightly excited at the thought of being able to go outside. I changed into my best dress – a pretty baby pink spring dress with white and pink flowers along the sweetheart neckline and along the hem of the dress.

It was an old dress; one I had gotten years ago, but I only wore it for special occasions. I loved dresses like this – they made me feel so pretty and worth looking at. 

I smiled brightly and wiggled into it; lightly awwing at the soft fabric against my skin. The hem of the dress fell an inch above my knees that were finally scabbing over and healing.

I picked out a pair of cute white shoes that went along the dress, but slid on my white socks, the kind with ruffles on them, and wiggled my feet into the shoes and tied them.

I twirled in front of the mirror after tying the spaghetti straps against my collarbone and around my shoulders, giggling lightly.

Finding my crocheted pink bag the old lady next door made for me when I was five, I placed the money inside it, along with a random map I had saved a couple of years ago.

I didn't know how useful it would be, but I would rather have it than not. 

"Okay," I mumbled to myself, pasting on a happy persona rather than being riddled with nerves, I carefully placed my bag across my shoulders and left my bedroom.

Before I knew it, I was standing at the front door, holding my breath.

Was I really about to go outside? For the first time on my own?

I sucked in a sharp breath and nodded to myself.

I could figure it out.

I grasped the handle on the door knob, a wince leaving me once the bandaid on my wrist pinched my skin, and swung open the door and stepped into the evening air.

I got this.

***

SOLARIS January 22nd, 2024 Charleston, SC

FINALLY.

I breathed a happy sigh at the sight of Ataraxia.

I finally was able to make it here after asking a nice, scantily clad dressed woman stumbling along the sidewalk, drunk.

It took me a little longer to get here but I felt that it was the right thing to do if I helped her to a safe place where she could sober up.

The large building was a beautiful sight to see! I could hardly believe my eyes! It was so beautiful! The large place looked classy and pristine; from the black-bricked building, and the white letters along the long space below the room and just above the huge doors.

I could hear the music – not too loudly, but enough to where I could hear every word the man sang.

I gulped, eyeing the large man standing in front of the building.

I couldn't see him too clearly, but he was big and looked scary.

From my standpoint, no one was standing in front of the building – It was packed, and since it was a free night to the public, you didn't see anyone wasting time to go inside.

I held myself together and sighed lowly.

My toes twitched inside my shoes.

It's okay, Solaris. He won't hurt you.

At least I didn't think so. I hoped.

I meekly, yet hastily walked towards the entrance as the man turned his head and peered down at me with a raised brow.

I gulped and looked at him.

He was a very intimidating man, with dark chocolate-colored skin that gleamed under the bright lights emitting from the glass doors. The man watched with me hard eyes – I even detected specks of green within the dark orbs glaring down at me.

He let out a sigh and ruffled his hand through his tight, pretty curls that were bouncing along with the movement of his hand.

Ohhhhh, I would love for my hair to be like this instead of limp and dead.

His was so pretty!

He raised a double pierced brow and rolled his huge shoulders.

"You look a little young to be here. No entry." He said, voice deep and slurred with a heavy accent I found hard to place.

I shied away from him, and stepped into the light a little ways away from him, slightly cowering.

"I...I'm really sorry, Mister." I said, voice trembling, my reply had his brows furrowing, watching me closely, "I don't want to go inside...I just...my Father needed me to bring him this–" I avoided his eyes and lowered my head to rifle through my bag and waved the stack of bills to him.

"Could...could you please get him for me?" I whispered, eyes peeking into his eyes.

I shivered as a breeze came through and hunched into myself, hugging around my middle.

It was terrifying to think that the Chairman could be here.

I mumbled a prayer under my breath in hopes I could leave this place soon.

The man softened and his tense posture relaxed. His full lips curled up in a small smile and nodded, "Of course, sweetie–" his sentence cut off when his eyes trailed to my arms. Goosebumps erupted on my skin when his stare burned into the handprint bruises on both of my biceps.

I flushed in shame and hid them away from his eyes.

I had forgotten about the bruises that littered my upper arms, and now I had gone and made a mistake.

No one was suppose to see the bruises and I hoped Father wouldn't find out about people seeing them.

"...thank you, Mister."

The man's eyes grew steely while staring at the bruises but forced himself to appear nonchalant when he looked at my face once more.

"Call me Theo." he said with a tight smile, "That 'Mister' shit makes me older than I wanna be," he said thickly, it took me a minute to understand him due to his accent.

I smiled shyly and nodded. "Okay, Mister–I mean Theo!" I cringed at my mishap.

Theo grinned softly and his big hand waved me closer, the golden band on his ring finger glimmering underneath the lights. "Come on, I'll bring you in a private room and find your dad for you." he was careful to not touch my arms as he opened the door and let me in.

I slowly walked inside, feeling out of place as the music grew louder and the sounds of high-pitched giggling and grunting sounded out loudly inside the building.

I felt uncomfortable in this place.

It smelt of strong alcohol and strong smelling perfume.

My nose burned at the strong scent. 

Theo rolled his eyes at the loud noises and carefully smiled down at me, his body coming in front of me to shield my eyes.

From what exactly?

"Right this way," he chuckled, looking over his shoulder, and quickly led me through the loud building, making sure I wasn't looking at what I shouldn't be seeing. Soon, we stood in front of a crimson-painted door, with gold lining. The club's name was spelled out in pretty letters on the door.

"You can stay inside here for a few minutes, okay?" he said kindly, opening the door and letting me inside. A quick flash of what looked like pity flashed inside his eyes as he looked at my hunched frame.

"Make yourself comfortable, and I'll be back," he said, sending me another smile and shutting the door behind him.

I rubbed my lips together and peeked around the room – eyeing the sleek black platform in the center of the room in confusion. I wondered what the tall silver pole in the middle of the platform was for.

Did they climb it for fun like I did back in school?

Around the room – the color scheme was black and crimson red.

Black and red accented couches were throughout the room, along with a small bar.

I toddled about the room and looked around in amazement.

"Woah..." my wide eyes tried to take everything in. I perched on one of the couches and wiggled my bottom to the back of the couch. Taking my bag off and placing it daintily on my lap, my feet hung above the ground once I was comfortably sat – the cons of being very short.

I hummed under my breath and giggled to myself; enthralled by this new experience I had gained.

What would Mama think of this?

Would she like this place, too?

I would stay inside the room forever!

"Who are you?"

The thundering voice had a scream leave my lips as my neck jerked around to find out where the voice was coming from.

A loud whimper of fear left my lips as a dark shadow loomed at the threshold of the room.

I couldn't see his face, but I knew, in my soul, this was not a man to cross.

My heart thudded erratically inside my chest – limbs turning to stone.

I hadn't been this terrified out of my mind in years.

Black spots swam through my vision as the larger-than-life man stepped forward, silver jewelry gleaming as his dark vicious gaze met mine.

Every limb shook as I opened and closed my mouth, feeling a panic attack coming over me.

Tears glistened into my eyes as the huge man, way bigger than Theo, came into the light – eyes glaring down at me.

Another whimper left my lips.

"I asked," he seethed, closing the door behind him with one big hand – the rings on his fingers glinting. "Who the fuck are you?"

"...I..." my chest heaved rapidly, my heart beating way too quickly inside my chest. Tears dribbled down my red chubby cheeks and I sniffled, my nails making bloody crescent marks on my soft palms. "...I...I'm...Solaris, M-mister." I squeaked, woozy.

I think I may pass out.

The man arched his brow, "And why are you inside this room?" he asked slowly as if I was incompetent. Which in this situation, I was. More tears left my eyes at his condescending tone.

I didn't want to cry in front of this scary man, but I just couldn't help it.

"...m-mister Theo told me to wait here...u-until h-he found-d my d-dad," I whispered knees pulled to my chest as if to protect myself if he were to start hitting me like Father would when he found that I needed it.

The scary man watched me, a hand coming up to flick the shiny pretty raven colored hair away from his doe eyes. They softened just slightly.

He didn't say anything, but quietly watched me, huge build broadening as he relaxed. 

It was then I caught the tattoos on his right hand.

And it was as if my worst nightmare had come true.

On each finger, underneath the rings, dark black ink was easily seen. They were letters, and on his index, middle, ring, and pinkie finger; it spelled out JEON.

My breath caught in my chest when I saw it.

Every ounce of blood drained from my face and I tumbled off the sofa, knees banging harshly against the hard marble floor.

My entire body was weak the moment my head banged on the floor and knocked me unconscious.

Before black overtook my vision, I was able to hear Chairman Jeon swear, and huge hands enveloped my twitching body on the floor.

"Fuck."

author's note ; ✨

if you wanna be apart of the taglist, just lemme know! love u 💜✨ have a great day/night/morning/evening wherever you are! 

[notoriousbeb]

Why is Harry Styles All Over TTPD? A Timeline

TTPD Notes Glossary

Upon much ponderation and rabbit-hole-ing I think a truly stunning chunk of tracks on this double album (20) are her processing her feelings for whatever the hell happened with Harry.  

What will likely be my Haylor magnum opus is under the cut because it is a bit lengthy. Good luck. Or I'm sorry??

I think they both pined for each other for years (well documented amongst the Haylors).  

Then she split with Joe Alwyn before she left London for the Eras Tour, but she waited to make the announcement public (probably to give him time to pack up his shit and get out of their shared house) until April 8. However, excited to be “Fresh Out the Slammer,” she reached out to Harry ASAP.  

I realize I might sound like an absolute raving lunatic, but I legit think Harry was at Taylor’s Arlington, Texas, Eras Tour shows, at the end of March/beginning of April 2023, and followed her to New York City for several days. 

While Harry was tied up finishing up the Asian leg of his tour until March 25, I think he came almost straight to her after that, and love-bombed the shit out of her in his excitement.

But then right before he had to leave for tour, with a stopover in LA for the Satellite video and Late Late Show shoots, he gave her some sort of pulling-away speech about taking a pause or pulling back or something, (I’d wager because of the two world tours), which she took as a total rejection, which caused her to lose it and move on to the disaster we call Matty. 

Then, in June, he met Taylor Russell in London. And maybe they were just friends at first, but then Taylor Swift started messing around with Matty, and then in July she started dating Travis and it went public in September. So, I suppose at that point Harry figured, "Okay, to hell with it."  

And now, somewhere in London, I imagine their shared good mate, Ed Sheeran, has a pounding headache and wishes he still drank whiskey.  

I hope the truth of it all someday comes to light in a tell-all book or movie. Or, at the very least, it would be nice if some more clarity surfaces in one of their albums, or a record by Ed.  

Oh, and I think Stevie Nicks, of all fucking people, knows the tea. She considers both of them “like [her] children.” She gave them both matching crescent moon necklaces. And has performed with them. And she wrote the intro poem for this record. Read that and tell me it doesn’t match the story I’ve written in my head. Stevie knows.

And now, the timeline. @foxes-that-run Also has a much more detailed 2023 timeline that I recommend.

There are, I shit you not, about a fortnight of possible days (March 29/30-April 12, 2023) where they could have been together...

March 29/30

Harry likely leaves Toyko after his March 25 show. Love on Tour doesnt start up again until May 13 in Horsens, Denmark.

March 31

Eras Tour is in Arlington, Texas, for N1. It's a rain show. She replaces "Invisible String” with "The 1." The surprise songs were "Sad Beautiful Tragic" and "Ours." Read all my notes on TTPD and go watch these two live performances again. They're...really something.

April 1

She sings "Death by a Thousand Cuts" and "Clean."

April 2

She sings "Jump then Fall" and "The Lucky One."

April 3-6

Neither of them are seen these three days.

April 7

Harry is spotted at baggage claim in Atlanta

April 9

Harry is at the Master's Golf Tournament

April 10

Maybe this is when he leaves her. Taylor goes out for drinks with Jack and Margaret. However, this was an obvious pap walk (the day she had those butterfly jeans on); were the paps maybe called to this location to lure them away from her apartment so a certain person might or might not have could arrive unnoticed after a golf tournament in Atlanta?

April 12

In the afternoon, Harry is spotted with his trusty brown duffel bag (sporting an air travel tag) leaving the gym in LA. In NYC, Taylor is pictured on the roof of Electric Lady (maybe shooting music video?) with a Gucci lion ring just like Harry's but with a green stone. I Mr not the 10th, I think this evening was when he said whatever he said that made her so sad; maybe he thought they should take a pause until their tours were over? Maybe he decided their combined spotlights were just too big to overcome? Who knows? Not me. But my nosy ass wants to know!

April 13

Eras Tour in Tampa N1. Taylor cries during “Lover"

April 14

Eras Tour in Tampa N2. She plays "The Great War" (performed with Aaron Dessner) and "You're On Your Own, Kid."

April 15

Eras Tour in Tampa N2. She plays "Treacherous."

April 21

Eras Tour in Houston N1. She plays "Wonderland" and "You're Not Sorry" (these choices seem…significant. In a not good way.)

April 22

N2 in Houston. She plays "A Place in This World" and "Today Was a Fairytale" (for her mom, who I am sure was being a rock for her at this trying time)

April 23

N3 in Houston. She plays "Begin Again" and "Cold as You"

April 27 and 28

Harry does shoots for the "Satellite" music video and the last episode of the Late Late Show. The scenes for the music video aren't used. In my opinion his face looks puffy on Late Late (maybe from crying?)

Eras Tour Atlanta N1 Taylor sings "The Other Side of the Door" and "Coney Island."

April 30

Eras Tour Atlanta N3 she sings "I Bet You Think About Me" and "How You Get the Girl." She cries again during “Champagne Problems."

May 5-7

Ah, the Nashville Era's Tour shows. Such fond, fond memories. She sang “Sparks Fly,” “Teardrops on My Guitar,“ "Out of the Woods,” “Fifteen” (Abigail was there, and she dedicated this one to her)," Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve” with Aaron Dessner and “Mine” (also Speak Now drop).

May 11

Dinner with Matty and Jack and Margaret at Casa Cipriani in NYC

Is it possible the villainy of Matty is that he planted the original story in The Sun that he and Taylor were dating? It ran May 3, two days before he showed up (from Asia) to the Eras Tour play with Phoebe Bridgers as the opening act in Nashville. I just always thought that was odd. Maybe he had a big fat mouth.

May 12

Eras Tour Philadelphia N1. She played “Gold Rush” and “Come Back…Be Here” (Aww, girl….)

May 13

LOT picks up again in Horsens, Denmark. He's smiling to himself all cute like during "Fine Line." Plus he played "Stockholm Syndrome" for the first time in yeeeears and looked delighted. :(

Taylor's surprise songs were “Forever & Always” and “This Love.”

May 15

Either way, she leaves Electric Lady studios with Matty in tow.

May 19

She plays "Should've Said No" and "Better Man." (Well, that's seems...not good.)

May 20

Ah, the day of the “Question…?” and “Invisible” combo. (Oh, Tay). Matty is seen entering Taylor's apartment with a big Louis bag full of what many people believe is the typewriter. I always assumed it was clothes or a synthesizer or some kind of equipment. ¯\_(ツ)_/

May 25

This is the last day she was seen with Matty (and the chorus of angels sang)

But, really, only he was seen outside her apartment leaving with his stuff. She wasn’t in town. 

They were never seen together again after May 15. 

May 26

Era's Tour Metlife N1. She sings “Getaway Car” with Jack Antonoff and “Maroon” (this was a very angry face Maroon).

May 27

Metlife N2. She sings “Holy Ground” and “False God," and cries.

June 22

Taylor records “The Black Dog” at Electric Lady. “Six weeks of breathing clean air,” if we’re being specific here (although she was touring and it could have just sounded good) would be May 11, 2023.

August 13

Stevie Nicks owns the opening poem for the album.

[my-head-is-an-animal]

J Is Just A Letter

Mycroft Holmes x Reader

Chapter 1 - Bound To Me

‘Sir, it’s her again.’

Mycroft sighed, needing no other information he knew perfectly well what Anthea was talking about.

‘Where?’ Mycroft drawled. He stood up anyway and while his assistant explained the situation, he began going through every possible option he had to bring her in, knowing full well he would be unsuccessful.

They entered into the surveillance room, it was filled with screens and people and chatter and chaos, especially at times like this. They were all co-ordinating to bring up the security feed on the main screen.

J. That was the only name anyone knew her by, she was smart, quick-witted, aggravatingly ambitious and much to Mycroft’s annoyance, playful. She was very playful and often left evidence of her existence in various locations around the world. This time, it was Tokyo.

A helicopter was flying over a known – and thankfully abandoned – safehouse that the British used when transporting precious cargo. That was the seventh one in a little under two months, once a week, the exact same time, something somewhere would flag up and a message would be left from her.

First it was a robbery in a Manhattan gang den that Mycroft had been keeping his eyes on for months, with the message: “Are you ready to play with me?”

Then it was a little closer to home, a quiet storage facility in Yarmouth, Isle of White which she decided to repaint neon green and spelled out the message: “Are you paying attention?”

After that it was a safehouse in Casablanca where she had set up a rave and invited the whole of Morocco to attend and in the morning a message spelt out in champagne bottles on the roof: “Watch the movie with me?”

A car hire fronted drugs den in Rio was next, flooded somehow and a drug lord found laughing his head off repeating the same phrase over and over again: “Call me, call me and tell me I’m pretty.” The man had been driven mad by something, but that one phrase was all he was capable of saying.

Oslo was a slightly obscure one, several offices in a government building were locked down and each office had a letter spray painted inside, when Mycroft put the letters together it spelt out: “I’m not hungry, have dinner with me.” He realised that Irene Adler must have been a contact of hers, using the same flirting tactics only made him warier of her ambitions.

Then Florence happened and he knew he’d have to put an end to her antics sooner than he would have liked. It was a government ball, one that Mycroft himself was at, he’d been slipped a note by a waiter: “Do you like my dress?” He had the place locked down, no one in or out, every single person and place was searched, all he found was a memory stick with some photos on it. It was J, wearing a tight emerald green dress, with a slit that ran up to the very top of her thigh, her thick, soft dark hair pushed to one side, blood red lipstick, diamond earrings and a diamond necklace extenuating her chest, which Mycroft hated to admit had his mouth watering. She was standing inches away from him only hours earlier when he briefly spoke to the Italian Prime Minister and he never even noticed her.

Then it was Tokyo and the safehouse had blown up with J escaping through the back door, hopefully not getting caught up in the blast. Mycroft felt his heart settling when the fire began following a trail spelling out one word: “Forfeit?”

Mycroft wasn’t stupid, he knew her messages were specific to him, very few others had come to the same conclusion, but it was starting to become obvious. Mycroft checked his watch, she was right on time.

The footage showed a figure darting out of the building out the back way moments before an explosion went off. Everyone in the surveillance room barely reacted, Mycroft, however, felt his heart drop through the floor. If she had been killed by her own explosion, then this was the end of the game they were playing.

Mycroft looked at the footage a little closer, something looked off to him. He told whoever was nearest to him to keep him informed of any progress and headed back to his office to get on with some real work.

Anthea handed him an envelope as he walked past her desk, he frowned at it, but nothing seemed to be obviously wrong with it. Mycroft entered his office, closing the door behind him and noting that it was addressed to him, but it smelled familiar, like a perfume he’d inhaled once before.

He opened the envelope carefully and saw it was a collection of stunning black and white photos of J. They were classy, every curve was smooth and highlighted with gorgeous lighting and in every single one of them she was wearing no more than heels and the diamond necklace she’d worn in Florence.

Mycroft felt his mouth beginning to water again, she was exceptionally beautiful and in the six or so years he’d known her, she had only grown more so. He looked at each of the ten photographs in turn and felt himself getting warm beneath his skin. He quickly put them back into the envelope, took a soothing breath and went to put them on his desk, before changing his mind and keeping them secure in his inside jacket pocket.

‘Now, that is interesting.’

Mycroft spun around, feeling his heart racing with momentary fear. Perched on his long wooden cabinet was the woman herself. J. She looked professionally dressed in a tight black dress, one that was a square cut over her chest, nothing was entirely hidden about her beauty, but it looked more like she wasn’t trying to use it to her advantage, instead she was in his office for business not pleasure.

‘It didn’t quite seem conceivable that you would get your hands dirty in Tokyo.’ Mycroft said, gaining his breath back and shoving his hands in his pockets. ‘How did you get in here?’

‘Really? That’s the first thing you want to say to me?’ J rolled her bold green eyes and smirked. Her cheeks were defined and her jawline shapely and smooth. Her skin was lightly tanned and evident that she had in fact been abroad.

‘What should I be saying to you?’ Mycroft shot back. He sat back against his desk, if she wanted to play a game then fine, but he wasn’t going to lose.

J smiled, her eyes never leaving his. ‘Do you like my photos?’

‘Black and white tends to-‘

‘It’s a yes or no question, Mr Holmes, perhaps you could pick between the two.’

J observed his silence and a knowing look fluttered across her face. She let herself down off the cabinet in a very elegant manner, nothing was awkward, her smooth legs sliding over one another, heels delicately covering her feet as she slowly steps towards him.

‘What if the answer is infinitely more complex than that?’ Mycroft found himself saying.

J grinned. ‘I knew you’d love them.’ She said, standing barely two feet away from him. He noted the same perfume he’d smelt on the photographs and knew it was deliberate on her part. J folded her slender, tanned arms just below her chest and it only served to make Mycroft try to hide his discomfort. ‘So, do I have your attention yet?’

‘Almost exclusively.’ Mycroft said, enjoying the game somewhat. He’d reached the conclusion some time ago that J – whilst a complete nuisance and often a welcome distraction – was relatively harmless. She was having fun and that was it, no one important was getting hurt.

‘Well, don’t you know how to please a girl,’ she flirted. ‘That will come in very handy for you.’ Mycroft stared into her emerald eyes and tried hard not to get too lost in them, he knew where the line was. ‘I want to open doors, I want to misbehave and have the absolute pleasure of knowing you’re thinking about me.’

‘Well, you’ve certainly garnered my attention so far, Miss…?’ Mycroft knew it was hardly a trick, she’d never reveal her actual identity. J tilted her head, almost pleading for him to do better. ‘It seems you can already open doors and as for misbehaving, well, I have a whole file filled with messages from you written in blood and fire and champagne bottles, in turn you’ve forced me to think of you most days and how I could make plans to arrest you. Forgive me, but I can’t help but wonder why you’re asking for things you already have.’

J held his gaze for a few moments longer. She took another step towards him, her knees brushing against the inside of his and the proximity was a slightly dizzying one. He could smell vanilla shampoo and couldn’t help but find the scent a pleasing one.

‘I can’t open every door,’ her voice lowered. ‘I found those safehouses using cheap tricks, I want something more elegant than that. Mycroft Holmes, the name literally opens doors. That’s what I want. You have access to secure facilities, secret locations, lists of persons of interest. I want that too.’

‘Why? So you can destroy everything I’ve worked to build?’ Mycroft wouldn’t be beaten on this front.

J frowned. ‘Why would I want to destroy you, Mr Holmes?’

‘It’s what most people want.’

‘You’re making assumptions.’

‘If you only knew.’ Mycroft stopped, he realised what was happening, he’d been sucked into her game, he started flirting back.

J smiled, very pleased with herself, her eyes scanned his face, taking in every single part of it.

‘I promise I won’t be reckless.’

Mycroft hummed laughter. ‘You expect me to believe that?’

‘When have I ever broken a promise to you?’

‘You’ve never made a promise to me.’

J stepped all the way into his space, her arms dropped, her fingers traced his thighs sending warm rushes through his body, it wasn’t just her perfume he could smell, it was her. Her voice was low and Mycroft was left craving more.

‘I promise, I’ll never lie to you. How’s that?’

‘You might not lie, but you may not be completely honest with me.’ Mycroft replied, his own voice matched the depth of hers.

‘Hm, you’re a hard man to please Mr Holmes, but I’m sure I can work out what you like… and more importantly how you like it.’ The flirting had taken a new turn, one that had Mycroft seeing big red flags.

‘Why do you want to open doors? I suppose more specifically, which doors do you want to open?’ Mycroft was desperately trying to hold his focus, but her fingers had found his hips and the pressure was everything he desired.

‘You’ve spent the last two months watching me, but only because I wanted you to watch me.’ Mycroft was seeing flashes of things that were far too indulgent, he needed to remain focused. ‘I could do so much more out of sight. I could do things for you, Mr Holmes. You’ve seen what I can do on a small scale, when I’m just out to have fun, but when it’s time to get serious… or I don’t get what I want, then maybe we can rediscuss this.’

‘I’d rather you didn’t turn up at my office unannounced after setting fire to a safehouse.’

‘You don’t really think I did that, do you?’ J began to step back, taking her hands away from his thighs, he missed the contact and he knew she caught it. ‘Maybe next time you won’t be wearing the suit.’ J winked and it was everything in Mycroft’s power not to take her perfect body in his hands and worship her on his desk.

‘What makes you think there will be a next time?’

J stepped further and further back, giving him just a little more room to breathe. ‘Oh Mr Holmes, you and I are bound to each other. I’m going to make sure of it. Enjoy the photos.’

The dizziness was finally clearing, but by that time, J had already made it to the door of his office and left. He took a moment to compose himself and think on what had just happened, he routinely checked his pockets, noting she had taken nothing from him. Mycroft quickly darted towards the door and saw Anthea wandering back towards her desk.

‘How long have you been gone?’ He asked.

‘Only ten minutes.’ Anthea frowned, confused. ‘Is there something wrong Mr Holmes?’

‘I want to know the exact location of J now.’

‘Tokyo, sir. We had confirmation around three minutes ago that it was her at the safehouse.’

‘She is currently not in Tokyo.’ Mycroft could feel his frustration starting to get the better of him. ‘She’s in London, I want to know her movements, her exact location and where she is going next.’

‘Yes sir,’ Anthea picked up the phone. ‘Is there something we should be looking for?’

‘I don’t know.’ Mycroft was starting to realise what her plan may have been. ‘But I just told her “no”, I imagine she won’t take it well.’

‘Sir?’

‘Keep me informed.’ Mycroft went back into his office, closing the door behind him.

He found himself at a slight loss, not being entirely sure what made him act so out of character, what made him flirt back, she was just doing it to get a rise out of him, every move was a calculated one. Mycroft’s hand went absent-mindedly to his chest pocket where the black and white photos of J now rested. Her body was stunningly beautiful and she knew he thought that. The only question remained was how she was going to use it to her advantage.

If you liked this, please consider supporting me ☕ thanks for reading!

Main Story

Mycroft Holmes Masterlist

[knightwriiter93]

Debut of the Ghostly Gotham Knight

A Danny Phantom/Batman; Gotham Knights crossover

Chapter 1: Crash landing into safety

Date: October 17th 2014, Time: midnight, location: Statue of Jim Gordan.

It was raining once again in Gotham the gentle pitter patter of the rain bouncing off the roofs and the street of the city was simply white noise, Nightwing was resting at the base of the statue after dealing with a few gangs. Nightwing was reflecting on the promise he and the others made to the city exposing the Court of owls and their schemes dealing with some old villains here and there, forging new alliances making new enemies... It was a lot. The justice league had offered to lead a hand if it got too much for Nightwing and the others to handle. There was a second funeral held for Batman by the JL Nightwing, who had asked Red hood to give the eulogy as Batgirl and Robbin would be unable to and he wasn't going to be much better. Hood had agreed and to be honest it was definitely better than the one that Jacob Kane had given. Shaking his head to banish the recent memories Nightwing stood up and before he could grapple away...

"DUCK!" Nightwing headed the warning just as a speeding something or another blew past him and in an attempt to stop the whatever it is, managed to bounce along the path a few times before it slammed into the base of the gazebo cracking the foundation a little once the dust settled Nightwing sets faltered for a moment as what he saw was a child a year or two younger then Robbin sliver white hair that seem to blow in a none existing breeze, neon green eyes that reminded Nightwing of the Lazarus waters, a black and sliver bodysuit and a red and white duffle bag across the kids lap.

"hell kid are you alright?" Nightwing asked checking for injuries.

"where... Oh thank fuck." The kid started to ask before slouching. Nightwing watches as the kid reaches into the duffel bag and pulled out an ancient looking PDA that would have Batgirl and Robbin gaging, the kid placed the PDA into his hands patted it and then promptly passed out where a white colored ring blinked into view around the kids wast split into, traveled up and down the kids form replacing the sliver hair with midnight black, and the bodysuit with a T-shirt and jeans before blinking out of sight once more.

"belfry prep, one of our first aid kits I'm bringing in a Meta their injured and had handed me an ancient PDA that most likely has information on it about what the hell I just witnessed."

"understood Nightwing we'll see you and the young charge shortly." Alfred said as Nightwing picked the kid up and after summoning the Batcycle Nightwing drove back to the Belfry questions and worries racing though his mind which ultimately boiled down to; what the hell happened?

Several hours later

Danny jolted awake with a gasp and fell off the surface he had been sleeping on the blanket following him to the floor, where Danny was trying to get his breathing back under some format of control he felt more than saw a person sitting him up and talking to him trying to get him to follow their breathing it was working thankfully and after a few rounds of breathing the world around him fell into focus once more. Taking in his current location Danny took note that it looked like a living room from an old Pinterest board that his sister was raving about before she had left for college.the person behind him was... Robin?

"Wait? Robbin right your Robbin right?" Danny asked.

"that's me alright, You nearly crashed into Nightwing last night, Handed him a PDA of all things and promptly passed out before he could ask what was going on." Robbin said helping Danny stand back up, and placed him back on the couch that he had been sleeping on before hand.

"sorry about that I had only just shaking the bastards that were chasing me but one of them got a lucky shot in. Some kind of Disruptor I think, lost altitude fast and I really didn't want to crash into him if I could avoid it."

"we figured that much." Red hood said as he came up the stairs with a tray of food.

"here you need to eat something" hood stayed placing the tray on the coffee table.

"thank you. And I'm sorry for just dumping that PDA on you guys without context as to what was going on.

"your fine all though we do have questions as to what is going on but they can wait until you've actually recovered from three days worth of flight if the data we currently have is to go by I. Surprise you didn't crash before you nearly bowled over Nightwing like he was a bowling pin." Bay girl said

"hey! I would have dodged." Nightwing said only to get four disbelievingly eyebrows raised at him.

"My top flight speed is 112 mph I really don't think you would have dodged in time." Danny stayed nibbling on some buttered bread.

"Be that as it may we should let our guests finish eating, the bandage needs to be changed, and he still needs more rest before he can answer any questions." Alfred said startling everyone as they hadn't even heard him coming up the stairs behind Nightwing. With sheepish acknowledgments the bats and birds returned back to the task they had been doing before hand.

'what did I get myself into this time?' Danny asked himself as he watched the group disperse into various tasks while Alfred moved over to him with a first aid kit.

~and that's a wrap for chapter 1 y'all I'll see you next time when Danny clarifies everything that had happen and what everything on the PDA means~

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Life of the Party

Steve meets the love of his life in a way only he could.

Steve-O X Fem!Reader

(Fluff, Angst)

1.2k Words

Warnings: Suggestive content, heavy drug use, alcohol, crude language, bimbo y/n, makeouts, minimal plot, blood

An: This fic was inspired in large part by this song! Besides liking Nu-Metal, I have a passion for 90s rave tracks and accidentally stumbled upon this song one day. I had wanted to write a fic about Steve and a fun, party girl who could match his energy for a while, but this one took a bit of a dark turn while I was writing it! I’m on a Steve kick what can I say XD Nonetheless, thank you for requesting fics and please keep the requests coming! :)

“Yo, yo- dude.” Out of the blue, one of Steve’s buddies pulled him aside in the midst of some house party with a hand on his shoulder, “I got this chick you gotta meet.” Normally he would be pretty annoyed at this- there was a whole crowd of people around him waiting for him to down the thing of bong water he was holding, but he was feeling nice and had enough booze in his system to make him chill but not enough yet to make him an asshole. Fuck it, why not? So he followed him, squeezing past dense crowds while wondering why this dude seemed so damn excited to introduce him to this lady.

That’s when Steve saw you, leaning against a wall with a bottle of something dark in your hand. Looking you up and down, he felt compelled to make himself presentable by dusting off the little bits of burnt hair on his scalp from the backflip moneyball he did when he jumped off the roof earlier. Big hair, shiny red high heels, leopard print mini dress- this girl was classy, the splitting image of the kind of girls that usually go for him. Your gaze flitted over to him as he approached you and whatever conversation you were having was immediately halted. “Oh my god- are you Steve-O?” Chuckling, he nodded, your excitement doing wonders for his ego, “Yeah, baby! You a fan?” Splaying out your glittery manicure on his chest, your dark, mascaraed eyelashes flared out around your saucer-big eyes as you leaned in, “Of course! I love you!” Christ. Well it’s not like he could say no to that. Steve grinned, “You wanna go have some fun?”

“I would love to!” You giggled, lifting up the bottle in your hand, the amber liquid sloshing as you held it out to him, “Can I buy you a drink?” Raising his eyebrows, Steve took the bottle from you, bringing it to his lips and taking a huge swig before throwing his arm around you, sighing. He dragged you over to the couch, flashing that sweet, boyish smile of his as he plopped down andfished around in the pocket of his camo shorts, wordlessly pulling out a ziploc baggie full of blow. Fuck yeah. There was something in the way your face lit up when he took that shit out that made Steve think that maybe this chick could keep up with him. “Whats’ur name?” As you sat down, he started drawing up a line with a credit card, licking the plastic edge clean once he got it how he wanted, and you were nearly drooling. Sure, booze was all nice, but after you had tried just about everything under the sun, you always thought coke was a classic and a necessity at parties like this. You spoke over the loud party music, “Y/N.”

A few hours later and shit started getting really fun. Steve couldn’t keep his hands off of you and you didn’t care, finding it really sweet when he asked to hold your hair back when you did your next line. “Don’t worry ‘bout it- I gotcha, baby…” His fingers tangled in your hair as he wiped the remnants of his last one from the bottom of his nose. You leaned down, inhaling deeply and feeling that telltale burn deep in the back of your throat. Pulling yourself up, you sniffed a couple times, your eyes watering as you felt something warm on your upper lip. A grin spread across Steve’s face as he reached out, gently grasping your chin to tilt your face towards his, smearing the blood that began to trickle from your nose, “Atta girl.” He thought it was cute, how blown out your pupils looked as you stared back at him with glassy eyes.

The sting all melted away both by the aid of the bottle the two of you passed back and forth until it ended up sitting empty on the coffee table and the rough kiss Steve then pulled you into, his tongue sloppily intermingling with yours. His mouth tasted like Jack Danniel’s and Newports, but you didn’t care. Your hands ran up and down his torso, hurriedly trying to find somewhere to stay. Steve smirked against your lips, pulling you closer as his hands slid down to your lower back. Your heartbeat picked up as he started to place open mouth kisses down your neck, not a single person at the party batted an eye at the obscene display the two of you were putting on. “Fuck…” He murmured against your chest, looking up at you with half lidded eyes, “Can I do one, like- off your boobs?” Giggling, you wrapped your arms around the back of Steve’s head. This guy was just too sweet.

He must’ve really hit the jackpot for this one. Never before in all of his years of being a guy on tv who liked to party sometimes had he met a girl so giddy for him to do blow off her tits. You laid back on the shitty couch someone probably found on a curb and Steve tugged down the top of your dress a little to get better access to your cleavage. It was weirdly sexy, watching how focused he looked as he lined it all up with that credit card from before, not even bothering with the rolled up dollar the two of you had been using. Sternum to collarbone, Steve did the massive line in one go before quickly capturing your lips in another fervent kiss, snaking a hand up the back of your neck to tangle into your hair and pull you closer. As he pulled away after what felt like forever, your breath came out in little pants against his skin.

Pulling Steve up to his feet, you wobbled a little, leaning against him to stabilize yourself as you murmured into his ear, “Y’wanna fuck?” His eyes went wide as he chuckled a little at the gall of this woman. Of course he did. Without hesitation, you two ducked down some hallway, running off to a secluded bedroom that belonged to whoever to continue what you were doing in private. The sounds of the party still filtered in after you closed the door, somewhat muted through the thin walls as you tumbled on the bed. Steve didn’t even bother to turn the lights on before he was on top of you, slotting himself between your legs as his hand found its way to the black lace hem of your skirt. You were clawing at his shirt and you had gotten it about halfway off by the time your dress was hiked up around your waist, the air swimming with hormones and human heat.

Suddenly, Steve felt you freeze before going limp underneath him. Confused at your reaction in contrast to your previous eagerness, he stopped for a second, trying to listen for any repose or signs of life. You were breathing, but pretty softly- did she…? Oh shit. This girl just fell asleep after doing three lines. Steve would be impressed if you hadn’t passed out right before you were going to fuck him. Groaning, he rolled over to lay next to you, wiping away the red lipstick that was smeared across his face and thinking about how he bet this kind of shit doesn’t happen to Chris as he slowly drifted off to sleep himself.

[desiredcaramellatte]

Pure vanilla cookie x reader who adopt sorbet shark cookie and choco chess part 4 in the day of the reunion where hollyberry and dark cacao come to the vanilla kingdom soon as both know that reader sorbet and choco chess are okay both are completely joyful specially knowing that sorbet and choco chess are alright soon as clotted cream cookie come and after that incident during the council sorbet choco chess trows at him a huge cake right on his face in front of everyone to give him a lesson then soon after the kids secretly goes with gingerbrave to the cream republic

The waiter at Olive Garden has been waiting for me to say when. There is a cheese stacked to the roof. It’s been eight hours. Three people have died. I will not yield./j

Trying to get some more motivation to write! Haven’t had much, but eh, I’ll just do the words and stuffs

Anyways, here’s your part 4!! Hope you enjoy!

The glorious part 4

PV x reader & SS CC. Ft, DC HB CC ++

Romantic & Platonic

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Mmm big family reunion. While everyone’s talking about war and death the children are just having an entire rave in the corner of the room. Wildberry brought them child-friendly drinks while they dance to the sound of everyone arguing.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Financier tried to jump in the way of the cake with her sword when Sorbet Shark decided to literally push it down on top of Clotted Cream, but defending the Consul from a giant cake is different from an enemy, and both of them ended up caked in cake! This also led to a soft ridicule of Sorbet Shark, though mostly from you. Pure Vanilla tried to tell them what they did was uncalled for but immediately stopped at the horrifyingly sad look the mercookie sent their way. The Chess Choco twins were just vibing in the corner watching this all go down and taking pictures, along with Strawberry Crepe.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Hollyberry is just on the floor laughing for a good bit. She can’t stop. Someone please help her. Wildberry is just waiting for her to stop laughing, to be honest. Dark Cacao, on the other hand, is literally PRAISING Sorbet Shark. Like hand-on-shoulder “You have some good instincts, kid” type of praising. He ends off his monologue speech “but don’t do that again.” when he sees the way that Vanilla and you are looking at him.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ After the reunion, Pure Vanilla is freaking out when he can’t find the kids. He is literally running around the palace moving window curtains and checking under furniture type of panicking.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ “I LOST THE CHILDREN!” “You whAT-“ “THEY’RE GONE!”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Once Strawberry Cookie finds a rogue Sorbet Shark digging through their jellies, Gingerbrave sent a note via bird to Pure Vanilla and you.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Trusting Gingerbrave in babysitting, you get a small break to spend with your significant other before the children return safely and in one piece. Pure Vanilla will not leave them alone for a while after that. You could tell he had missed them- it was pretty hard not to with him practically moping around- and he wanted to make sure they didn’t run off on a surprise adventure again.

[breadbox-draws]

KK LOOKS SO GOOFY AS DJ F-LIGHT/pos!!!! I WANNA HEAR MORE ABOUT THE TWO CHARTER AUS!!!!!

i'll be honest, i'm a little (pleasantly) surprised to see enthusiastic interest in these silly ideas- not as a self-deprecatory thought, mind, but more of an unexpectedness since this is a space where i just toss random doodles to the wind hdowjfjdk

i appreciate it very much though! yall folks and friends have been very kind <3

onto the ask at hand, i'll start with some preliminary details. Both iterations are some years older!, meaning that KK would be around his early thirties when he becomes a charter with a newly built district to his name (he's currently 27). Maxismum, the district, is relatively thin in width, and would likely be located on the outer rim of the city. While KK didn't originally want to become charter, in these AUs he's pushed or motivated to aim higher, so that he can provide a happy space for his friends and for Vinyl City. He takes this in two different ways, explained under the read-more!

(Foreword: these ideas are a wip, so the designs of the costumes and districts might change later on)

DJ F.Light

Route A is the Normal Route. Here, KK keeps his old stage name, DJ Dragonflyte, and just shortens it into an alias sometimes (the exact reason why is still pending, maybe as a way to get around without his reputation preceding him). KK continues with his philosophy of living the PLUR life (rave acronym for peace-love-unity-respect) and utilizes his status + district as a means of bringing attention to smaller and/or up-and-coming artists! It's sort of why his outfit is less flashy and looking like an ordinary event organizer, with some design inspirations coming from the look of aircraft marshallers.

Maxismum A:

This Maxismum has a topside and an underside, with the former being split up in quarters by cardinal direction.

The east and west quarters are long sections of bright neon roofed mall space, called Holiday Row East and West, respectively. They primarily function as a space where people can acquire 1) party paraphernalia (think Party City vibes) and 2) reasonably priced materials that can help someone kick off their own music career! So like instruments, costumes, sound equipment, etc, etc. The items are sort of generic though, since the inventory has to cater to a wide variety of people, so he encourages folks that do more specialized work, like costume and set designers, to advertise their wares at Holiday Row :]

The north quarter connects to an airport! Maxismum and Holiday Row also act as sort of touristy place, to be the first impression of Vinyl City (the airport + air tram access is also because it fits with his theme- he thought it would be cool). (i might not keep this idea)

The south quarter is residential, and while the apartments are well maintained, they're a bit tight on space and see a lot of foot traffic outside.

The underside is specifically used for performances, plural. It works similarly to underground warehouse raves back in the day, where there are separate "rooms" (buildings, at this size) that musicians can rent out for performance venues, and he'll accept any and all genres to take a crack at a real stage. The atmosphere of this layer is always generally dim, with streetlamps and blacklight fixtures and neon lights that decorate the area and lead people to places with 'ascension' motifs (airplanes, rockets, rising stars...you know, for Rising Stars).

DJ F.Light's venue, called the Blacklight Runway (a slight nod to a track by the same name from Dirty Androids), is the largest one there, and when he holds a concert, he never does it alone. He always invites other DJs or artists of similar genres to perform with him, where they cycle out the person playing after a certain amount of time. Each DJ is credited when it's their turn to play, and F.Light is always the last one to go. Anyone unfamiliar with his concerts might be surprised to see that...he was both the ticket guy at the door and the guy in the crowd that was *really* going ham with the cheering during everyone else's performances.

== ==

DJ Apotheotic

Route B is the "Bad" Route. This KK lets his nerves get to him and takes on the theme of the Sophisticated Techno Night Club. He transitions out of his old Dragonflyte theme completely and feeds into the idea that he *has* to look and act more "professional" in order to be taken seriously.  Initially, that was in the spirit of benefiting Vinyl City, but he soon got lost with his vision and aimed for power and popularity instead, becoming dead set on being the Best.

Maxismum B:

Instead of "Party City Music Mall", the district looks much more like a futuristic minimalist, with architecture consisting of high rise polyhedral towers plated with sleek, black chrome and neon strips. (Think Tron: Legacy, for those that have seen the movie).

Instead of topside being split into quarters, there are just two halves: the business and residential districts.

Maxismum's offices are chic but practical, with a primary focus on digital equipment, like monitor screens, sound programs, and even gaming hardware. While not as artistically fancy as Dream Fever, there's definitely an energy of trying to be like 'what is sold or served here is of high quality, furnished with the latest upgrades and reputably sourced, and deserving of respect'.

The residential district is like...brutalism's chrome and neon cousin. Though the apartments are a little pricey, but they're close to air tram stations that connect to other parts of the city, and the living conditions and spaces are great, as long as you're okay with moving into a. block. It's all in the name of efficiency.

(The district sounds a bit bleak but it does have something of an active nightlife, with entertainment in darkness-themed establishments like arcades, laser tag, and bowling alleys. he hasn't completely gotten rid of his roots ey).

What stands out the most in the district is his venue, called...I'm less solid on this name (pun intended), but it's something along the lines of The Perfect Prism. It's a large building built on tall supports with an outer facade that changes its shape into different simple polyhedrons, like pyramid, cube, diamond. Sometimes a sphere. His concerts are the *only* official concerts allowed to happen in his district, and he runs his shows like he's the hottest thing in the city. I almost hesitate to say he's like a priest at his turntable pulpit because he's not...giving sermons or holding some kind of 'music Mass', but in the those calm breaks in the music when the DJ talks, he's definitely saying stuff like "my music will save your fucking soul (metaphorical)". And he doesn't just have his finger on the pulse of the party, his music *is* the pulse of the party, and he's "gonna deliver you from your troubles with a lotta noise, baby".

[wildandsmile]

𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 ☆ 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

🗯️ — fem! reader, smut, choking, grumpy / mean miguel as always, reader and miguel are in an established relationship. kinda short and kinda shitty. shut up. enjoy <3

“i really hate that kid.” “i know you do, sweetheart.” miguel stood in the living room while you made dinner, ranting and raving about how much he hated the new member, miles. he was technically supposed to be building you two a pillow fort, but he abandoned that when you mentioned his work. “he’s just so smug.” “i know, míjo.” you rounded the corner and walked over to him, wrapping your arms loosely around his nape. “you have to remember he’s just a baby, miguel. he’s fifteen. he doesn’t know everything you do.” he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close, holding you firm against his body.

“that’s for damn sure.” he mumbled, burying his face in your hair. he inhaled deeply and exhaled the same way, squeezing you tighter. “you smell so good.” you giggled and gave him one big squeeze before wiggling out of his arms, retreating back to the kitchen as to avoid your house catching on fire. miguel followed behind you like a lost dog, pouting. you stirred the pot around quietly, feeling his heavy presence behind you. you hummed, “what is it, míjo?” he didn’t respond. you turned around to see him glaring at you with his arms crossed, like a child who got told ‘no’ in the grocery store.

you propped your spoon up and turned to him, crossing your arms and pouting your hip to the side. “what?” you asked, a little more edge in your voice. he grumbled under his breath as he turned and walked away. you rolled your eyes and got back to cooking, unbothered by what could possibly be up his butt this time. you set the stove on low and covered the soup with a lid, checking on the roasted veggies in the oven. when you walked into the living room to see what miguel was doing, you found that he had finished building the pillow fort. very quietly, mind you. you didn’t hear him do it at all.

there was a blanket roof, a little bed laid out on the ground, and a few fairy lights over the top of it for the aesthetics. you approached him with a smile on your face, wrapping your arms around his large frame again. “aww, it looks so good míjo.” you said before you pressed your lips against his cheek, jawline and corner of his mouth, everywhere except for where he wanted you to kiss him. he settled his hands on your hips and squeezed, dipping his head down to your level. “(y/n)..” he warned, eyes boring heavily into yours. “yes?” you replied innocently, smiling at how agitated he got almost immediately.

“kiss me properly before i do it for you.” he growled, shoving his body against yours. you grinned as you pressed your lips to his in a chaste kiss, making an exaggerated ‘mmmm’ and ‘mwah’ noise as you kissed him. “are you happy now, grumpy pants?” you teased, resting your hands against his broad chest. he smirked as he pressed his lips to yours again; once, twice, then no more. he let you out of his grasp. “you might want to check the oven.” he said. you turned, and the moment you did so he landed a hard slap against your ass. you yelped and turned to glare as he chuckled, clearly pleased with yourself.

“consider yourself lucky if i don’t poison your food.” you grumble, going to the kitchen. you flip the oven off and plate everything, making it look presentable at your little dinner table. smashed potatoes, tomato soup and grilled steak-and-cheese sandwiches. “míjo—“ you called, turning around to see him less than three inches away from you. you yelped and just about leaped three feet into the air, your heart pounding. “miguel! stop doing that! make some noise when you move, for the love!” you yelled at him and he laughed, easily scooping you into his arms in one side sweep of his wide bicep.

he hugged you and you pouted. “you’re being so touchy today,” you noted. and it was true. he had been all over you since that morning. you woke up to his face in your chest, he insisted on being late to work to shower with you, then since the moment he came home he had been slapping your ass, hugging you, kissing you, touching your hips, everything. “am i not allowed to love my girlfriend?” he asked sarcastically, pressing little kisses against your forehead and cheeks. “that’s not what i said, now is it? just shut up and eat your dinner before it gets cold.”

you were the only person in the world he’d let talk to him that way. he rolled his eyes and sat down, dragging you down with him. he sat you on his lap and picked up the spoon you provided for him, “let me feed you.” he said. you rolled your eyes. “miguel, that is ridiculous. i can feed myself.” “i want to feed you.” he messily brought the spoon up to your lips, pushing it past them and dripping soup down your chin and between your breasts.

“look at you, making a mess all over me.” you scolded him. his body hardened underneath you as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you even closer to him if that was anywhere near possible. you felt lips on your neck before you registered the words he was saying. they were warm and gentle, pressing against that weak spot right between the end of your neck and the start of your shoulder. “don’t worry, pretty girl. i’ll clean it up.” his kisses began to trail lower and become rougher. his fingernails gripped into your waist as he bit down on your shoulder, sucking a hickey onto it immediately after.

“miguel, what has gotten into you?” you ask, voice whiney with lust as he roughly handled your body. he turned you around to face him, hands still grasping at your waist. “just need you right now. can you do that, huh? can you just shut up for a while and take my cock like you’re meant to?”

you nodded gingerly as he continued his assault on your throat, hands trailing all around your body. he squeezed your hips, thighs, breasts, ass. he landed a firm smack on your asscheek just as he sucked particularly hard on your neck, making you cry out.

“gods, (y/n). you don’t know what you do to me.” he groaned, rocking his hips against yours. “can you feel me?” he asked, bringing your hand down to the space between your bodies, letting your fingertips run against the hard tent in his loose sweatpants. “yes..” you whimpered softly, gazing up at him through your lashes. he groaned and rolled you over, slamming you down against the couch. he caged you between his arms and began grinding against your clothed cunt, rutting into you in an almost animalistic way.

“need to be inside you right fucking now.” he growled into your ear, tearing at your pants. he tossed them aside and immediately went for your panties, tugging those off too. “tell me you want me,” “i want you.” you whispered, watching as he tugged his sweatpants and boxers down his thick thighs. you groaned at the sight of his hard cock, standing tall and proud against his stomach. “lift your leg.” he demanded, tapping your thigh as he hoisted it over his shoulder. he settled himself between your legs and began rubbing the swollen head of his cock against your warm pussy, teasing at your hole.

“miguel, stop.. don’t tease me..” you whined, pawing at his biceps and massive shoulders. he leaned down to kiss you, and as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, he began inching his cock inside. you gasped into his mouth, eyes widening. no matter how many times you took him, you’d never be able to adjust to the way he stretched and filled you to the brim. he groaned as he began rocking his hips forward, slowly, letting you get somewhat used to the feeling.

“you’re so wet for me, princess.” he wrapped his hand around your throat and kept one hand on the thigh that was on his shoulder as he began thrusting slow and hard, giving long, even strokes inside of you. your eyes rolled back and your mouth fell open in a silent declaration of pleasure as he rocked into you just the way you liked. “look at me, princess.” he warned, tilting your head up. your eyes met his, wild and swirling with desire. his thick cock reached that spongy spot inside of you and you mewled, your toes curling. “shit— squeezing me so tight. you like that, yeah? like that right there?” he asked condescendingly, giving a particularly harsh thrust.

“yes!” you cried, breath becoming uneven and hurried as the coil in your stomach began to tighten. “awe, baby. i can feel you gettin’ close. gonna cum so soon?” you shook your head the best you could with his massive hand around your throat, garbling some unintelligible nonsense about wanting to be a good girl for him. “cmon baby. you can last a little longer for me, can’t you?” his thrusts increased in speed until your breasts were bouncing against his chest and your leg felt like it was going to snap from how hard he was pushing on it. it was times like these that you remembered just how big he was compared to you, just how easily he could disable and break you.

you loved it. it turned you on beyond imagine, and the wet slapping noises coming from between your legs was proof of that. “such a good girl.” he growled into your ear, breath gently breezing across your cheek. “cmon, just a little more.” you whimpered as the coil in your stomach got impossibly tight, threatening to snap with one more delicious thrust into your heat. “miguel! can’t, can’t! too much!” you warned him, voice whiney and high pitched as he nearly cut off your oxygen supply completely. his hand squeezed your throat and his hips slapped against yours at a vigorous pace, but it all felt so good.

“cmon baby.. almost there.” he grunted, dipping his head between your breasts. he licked and sucked at them, rolling your taut nipples between his teeth. the thought of him filling you to the brim with his cum sent you hurdling over the hedge before you could even warn him again. your walls clamped down on him so tightly he thought you’d snap his dick in half. milky white slick poured from your hole as his thrusts became brutal, hard and fast and oh so rough you knew you’d be sore down there for weeks.

he cursed under his breath, voice gravely and broken as his hips finally stilled their abuse and he spilled inside of you, cock twitching and stomach spasming. you laid there, spent, as he filled you to his hearts desire. even when he was finished you two sat there heavily breathing for a while.

eventually, he dipped his head down and landed a chaste kiss against your forehead. “that’s my good girl,” he muttered, keeping his cock sheathed inside of you as he brought you into his arms and held you gently but firmly. “not gonna complain about me wanting to love you now, are you?”

you rolled your hazy eyes as he chuckled against your neck, eliciting another lick of flames up your spine. “whatever, miguel.” you mumbled, running your fingers nimbly through his hair. “i’m not reheating your food by the way.”

[whattraintracks]

If I am understanding this correctly the boys in TNM don’t like each other?

I think they get along pretty well.

Sure, they all take turns fighting, but no more than my siblings and I ever did living under the same roof. Raph and Leo argue the most, but they aren't always at each other's throats. In one of my favorite moments with the duo, Raph is gushing over a baby turtle, and Leo cheekily says, "You know, sometimes I almost like you. But then I get over it." Very sibling-coded. And the episode with them fighting all day while the others pick sides is mostly for laughs and flashbacks. I think it ultimately shows their arguing is habitual rather than born of any true ill will. They're just so similar they push each other's buttons like nobody else.

All four boys (plus Venus) love spending time together. They spar, joyride in their humvee, skateboard, help Mikey host a last-minute rave, and just hang out a lot, one-on-one or all together. They trust one another so much and always have each other's shells in a fight. So yeah! The TNM turtles like each other very much!

[addaxus]

One of my faves right here… 💚

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

New Fortune My Ass! Pt. 1

This very small town of Nueva Fortuna was not as bustling as Clarence anticipated it would be, but considering the fact that they’d built the damn railroad off the main stretch meant that hardly any activity would pass through. He looked around at what little patrons sat around the tables and grumbled to himself.

He would be proud of the whole buying this saloon thing if it hadn’t been for that fact. He’d thought about writing to his sister, Rosemary, but… he knew she wouldn’t be impressed. Too many outlaws and raving drunkards were around too.

He glanced sideways at the parchment and feather hidden under the bar near some alcohol bottles and pinched the bridge of his nose. Maybe he’d never write it. Or maybe he hoped the letters he does write never make it to her.

Besides, Clarence was also not fond of the night sky under the roof of a saloon. This time in the evening tended to bring in more of the wanteds, bandits, outlaws, and whatever was out there to cause trouble for common folk.

Even though he’d been foolish in his younger years in identifying as one of them, he found maturity and a more peaceful way to live life. His days were numbered and his old barking mercenary bones needed a long rest. It didn’t help that he now stood behind the counter of one of his more unkind endeavors. Apparently he could not entirely escape the ways of the untamed west.

That was when he opted to close the doors and burn out the lights when a quiet creaking of the swinging door caught his attention.

“Saloon’s closed for the night.”

He was finishing up cleaning and shining glasses for the next day, when a younger male came stumbling in, tripping over his own feet as his determined legs ached to keep moving.

Clarence was agitated, tired from the long day.

‘This damn day just won’t end, will it?’

“I said, the saloon is closed for the night I’m not in the mood for any antics from lowlife—“

He’d turned around to threaten them out, when all he saw was a young boy slumped heavily over a leaning chair. He was unresponsive and looked entirely exhausted, trembling from the cold and coughing weakly as his dry lips failed to move.

“Well I’ll be the devil’s bargain, where did you come from?”

Clarence approached cautiously, but upon more interested inspection, the boy was terribly dehydrated and malnourished, entire body almost caked in dust. He was wrapped in an odd looking poncho.

‘When did they get hoods?’

Clarence had never seen that before.

He didn’t waste any time filling the last of his daily water supply into several cups, then fixed a shot of whiskey on the side.

“Drink up, now… easy does it.”

Still with his jaw tilted to rest on the back of the chair, Clarence helped get a few slow and gentle sips of the water into his parched mouth.

This seemed to perk him up a bit, eyes widening, realizing the taste of water was quenching his needs. It ran down his throat smoothly, and he leaned forwards for more.

He’d finished two glasses before Clarence waved the whiskey glass in front of his nose. The black-haired boy was awake now, gladly accepting the glass with a shaking hand, but Clarence pulled the glass away and put it on the bar. He hadn’t intended for him to drink it.

This kid’s been through hell and back.

“That do it, lad? You must have been stranded out there, no horse, no ride? What’s your name, boy?”

Although his voice was still scratchy and hoarse from the dust, the boy slowly straighten his head and met Clarence’s gaze with eyes riddled with suffering beyond those gleaming emeralds and the dull, buffed shine that glazed them.

“Bruno… Mister.”

[dracarialove]

📄 Posting my finished fics here, too 📄

Dark Duo

Rouge visits Club Shadow and converses with her partner about a mission. Enter an alternate reality where the bat is stoic and calculated, while the hedgehog is flirty and jewel-motivated.

*Originally published Dec. 2nd, 2023

A pretty white bat stood on the sidewalk in front of red double doors that would soon open into a night club. It was dark out, evening having fallen hours before, and the party going on inside the building sounded like it was in full swing; she could hear sinister electronic music bumping through the walls while red and yellow lights flickered and poured through the tall windows.

She closed her eyes for a moment, scowling and mentally preparing to go inside. Rouge despised crowds, bright light, and loud noises – all things encompassed in one place when she visited her partner-in-crime, Shadow.

His business was bustling, dark rave music assaulting the woman's large ears the second she cracked the door open, then blaring overhead when she crossed the threshold into the lobby filled with people.

Groups of patrons drank and danced too close to the entrance. She would've flown over them, but Shadow had built his ceiling dreadfully low, forcing Rouge to walk near the wall as she went around to the other side, where she would find the stairs.

And, annoyingly, there were people blocking the bottom steps, three of them just standing and slurring their words while they talked. Ivory brows furrowed and she looked up to the open space behind them, offering enough room to jump up and fly through to the second floor.

Knowing Shadow, he would be lounging on a plush purple loveseat with a glass of red wine in one hand. With the other, he would likely be gesturing animatedly while conversing with his customers and lapping up their praise. The bat could see it so clearly in her head even before she got a good look around the second story.

The bar was packed, not a seat left unoccupied, and many of the comfy chairs sitting about were filled with groups of friends chattering away between taking their shot on the billiards table.

As Rouge stepped farther into the lounge area, she listened for her teammate's voice. In a place as packed and darkly lit as this, she would likely hear him before she saw him; and it was true.

Shadow's vibrantly smooth cadence was recognizable beyond the music when the woman got closer to his location. The deep rumble of his tone was amplified when he laughed, and Rouge soon found her confident counterpart through a break in the crowd.

He was indeed sitting on a loveseat, occupying the entire couch with his feet propped up on one side and his back against the other. She'd been wrong about the drink, though.

Tonight, Shadow was drinking something stronger than wine, the liquid in his square glass almost looking black under the wicked lighting, ice cubes clinking as he raised his cup to gesture at Rouge when he spotted her. A fanged grin widened across his muzzle and blood-red eyes locked onto her unwavering gaze.

"Rouge!" he greeted, causing the patrons around him to turn and look at her, too.

The bat's posture stiffened. She didn't appreciate being the center of attention in this setting. "Shadow, can I speak with you alone? It's important.

"Pleasure before business! Sit and chat with us," he insisted, swinging his legs off the loveseat. One gloved hand patted the cushion beside him, beckoning Rouge while dark eyelids lowered in an alluring expression.

But instead of obliging his request, the no-nonsense spy stepped closely enough to talk at a low volume into his ear, cupping one hand beside her muzzle to funnel the sound towards only Shadow.

"I don't want to embarrass you in front of your admirers, but I won't be staying here. I need to talk to you about a mission; if you can spare the time for your job, meet me on the roof within the next ten minutes. Otherwise, I'll assume you don't want in and take the payout for myself."

With that, Rouge turned around and left the way she'd come. A couple of dirty glances were thrown her way as Shadow's adoring patrons thought she was being a bummer and couldn't understand why she wouldn't want to stay. But the hedgehog laughed it off, quickly diverting their attention back to himself and letting his partner skulk off to the roof.

***

Five minutes later, the ivory visitor was joined by her more charming counterpart on the flat gray slate of Club Shadow. Her hands were on her hips and she was gazing up at the sky, teal eyes taking in the sight of the moon hanging above the darkness.

The electric crackle of his Chaos energy drew her attention. Rouge turned to see a few golden sparks dissipating around him as he stepped forward, his skates clunking against the concrete.

"Alright, Rouge, what's the job?" He stopped a few feet away from her and crossed his arms, jutting his hips to one side.

"More trouble in paradise," she answered, and began fiddling with the communicator on her wrist. "You would know if you'd heard the Commander's transmission."

Shadow looked down at the gizmo while she set it to play back the message Tower had given her earlier, remarking, "So I have to be at G.U.N's beck and call now? As if I'm going to wear my communicator every day just in case they summon us."

His partner shot him a glare as the human's voice cut into the air. Interspersed with Rouge's responses, the Commander described a disturbance of attack robots on Emerald Coast, which he believed to be the work of Dr. Eggman.

And after first sending Omega to deal with them – as his desire to destroy Eggman's robots demanded – they found the mechanical minions were being continually deployed from the sky.

Tower wrapped up his briefing, "We believe Sonic will assist soon, as well, but we haven't gotten to assess the full scope of the threat; our men are being deployed as we speak. I want you and Shadow to help contain the threat while we track the airships that are dropping them onto the coast. They cannot be allowed to overrun Station Square."

A staticky version of Rouge's voice answered flatly, "With our strength, that shouldn't be a problem."

Then she stopped the recording and looked at Shadow, her expression deadpan. "If Eggman's behind this, he probably attacked at night thinking that would give him the upper hand in moving inland before his bots could be spotted."

"Hmm." The hedgehog tapped a finger against his lip. "Now, you mentioned taking the payout for yourself, but I didn't hear a reward being offered for this mission."

White brows furled and glossed lips pulled into a frown. "Don't mind my bluff. The reward is stopping Eggman from claiming more land for his empire. Do you want Station Square to end up as a hub for part of his amusement park, or one of his labs?"

"Not necessarily. But you've got this, right? You're strong, Omega's strong, Sonic will be there-"

"Shadow, if G.U.N is asking for both of us, they need both of us. I'm not going to let you neglect your part of keeping the world safe."

A gloved hand reached out and gripped the club owner's arm, pulling him as she began walking to one side of the roof. Shadow grunted and yanked his arm out of the lady's grasp, but continued to walk behind her.

"Ugh, fine. But I will be having a word with Tower about compensation. And don't be surprised if I force you to stay for a lounge on the beach after we clear out those robots!"

"Hmph," Rouge scoffed, pausing at the edge of the roof and holding her hand out to Shadow. "We'll discuss that later if it comes to it. But I make no promises."

A sly smile etched itself onto his face and he firmly grabbed his teammate's hand to be carried on their flight. "Deal."