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evermoredeluxe · 2 months

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

By Chris Willman

By Alissa Gao for Variety

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#variety 2024 #variety #eras tour #taylor swift

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inevesgf · 7 months

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MINE ALL MINE ⠀,⠀ stephen tries.

synopsis ✩ what it’s like dating stephen tries.

warnings: mentions of sex, f!reader.

authors note: oh god do i have big plans .. i absolutely love writing these lil headcanons so i’m planning on continuing that in the future with a few other creators in mind. currently whipped for willne + chris as ALWAYS — in the works of another chris fic which is going to be such a loonngg one. love yous x

• such a sucker for physical touch and quality time.

• no matter how busy he is with filming and with other events, he always makes time for you.

• date night is NECESSARY. you each switch back and forth every other week planning a date night.

• you both equally enjoy nights in and nights out together — but overall you both prefer to spend time alone together.

• fancy dinner dates? yes! mario kart dates where you scream and call each other cunts when you loose? yes!

• never a dull moment with stephen when you’re alone together. one moment he will be cuddling and kissing you and the next he’ll tickle you until you cannot breath

• equally loves to be the big spoon as he does the little spoon.

• loves to lay his head on your lap while you two watch a film together. he almost falls asleep every time you play with his hair but he LOVES it.

• very cliche, but in the best way possible.

• loves to surprise you with random little gifts like sweets when he stops by the shops, bouquets of your favorite flowers for special occasions and treating you to dinner even when it’s not date night.

• tits or ass? no, stephen is a THIGH GUY hence loving to lay his head on your thighs.

• loves giving more than receiving! likes to be between your thighs, leaving little love marks only he can see.

• likes pda, but isn’t excessive with it.

• will hold your hand when you’re out with friends and snake his arm around your shoulder as you two walk.

• when hes drunk, he’s a little more touchy.

• he’ll pepper you in kisses all over your face, allowing himself to be clingy towards you.

• i imagine one of the others who did football pub golf for chris’ channel having to text you to come get stephen after the shoot because he’s absolutely battered.

• snakes his arms around your waist the second he sees you gives you the wettest, yet short smooch on your cheek.

• very lovey when he’s sober, but MORE lovey when he’s drunk.

• when you get home, you insist he relaxes and drinks some water, but all he wants to do is lay in your arms and take a nap.

• the type of boyfriend to tell you he loves you at the most random times — whether you’re cooking, editing a video or even just sitting there doing nothing.

• prefers soft and slow sex compared to fast and lustful. just likes to be as close to you as possible

• talks about you a lot to his friends ( who find it so cute, mind you ), but this does result in them sort of making fun of him for it.

• the boys hit him with the “howd you manage that? she’s fitter than you” but he knows that doesn’t make a difference in your love for him.

• you two definitely have a shared playlist of love songs that remind you of each other and your favorite songs to listen to eachother. lots of djo, the 1975 and hozier on it!

• his music taste is basically just your music taste because of how often he listens to the playlist.

• obsessed when you wear his clothes. like this man will NOT stop staring at you when you wear his sweaters or his t shirts.

• half of your wardrobe is probably his old tees, but he does not mind one bit because of how gorgeous you look.

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theodorecanaryhood · 8 months

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Stages in life

Arkham Knight / Red Hood / Jason Todd x Male reader

Relationships are filled with differences for each people in them, yours and Jason’s was quite different in many ways.

You were Black Bird while Jason was Robin, you were friends and then all of a sudden, he was gone.

Then Arkham Knight came and took you away to teach Bruce a lesson, once you realised Jason was the Arkham Knight. The love you both felt and never admitted came flooding back.

The Arkham Knight had you in his room as you touched his face, Jason looked confused as you lifted the visor up.

‘Jason’ you whispered as you tiptoed and greeted Jason’s lips.

You couldn’t turn your back on Bruce, but you also couldn’t turn your back on Jason. So you decided to step away from both as they figured out what they wanted.

Of course, the grand finale did not go as to plan for either Jason nor Bruce. Jason took his time and realised he wanted to do the right thing for a change.

Jason became Red Hood and was a threat to everyone, he had no problem taking enemies out. Black Mask being no exception of course.

Violent, angry, menacing and dangerous, Red Hood kept the streets safe and was a thunder of force that no one dared to cross.

Only you however, only you had the power to turn Jason into a puppy who was clinging to you all the time.

Jason looked off into the distance as he mentally aimed up the ball with the hole, the golf club swung nicely as the ball flew to the hole in the ground.

You both found this stage particularly interesting as you were both oblivious, Jason stood tall in his white muscle tee.

Two women stood to the side as they took in your form, both debating on which one saw you first and who can shoot their shot. Jason chuckled as he saw this, and you didn’t.

Jason walked over and gave your ass a nice slap, putting arm around you as the two women looked in realisation.

The golf date finished as Jason drove you both home quickly, in order for you both to change into something a little more comfortable.

Jason took you to a romantic dinner, music, wine and a three course meal.

Jason looked so irresistible in his black shirt and trousers, you felt thankful everyday that you woke up next to Jason, a man of this quality.

The two of you held hands over the table as you talked and laughed, the waitress came over with a smile as she looked at you both admiring each other.

This stage was perfect for Jason, he could sit and stare at you all he wanted, watching as your face lit up when you’d speak of things you loved. Jason admired you, loved you.

Jason stood at the bar as he ordered drinks for the two of you, one last drink before you both headed home.

A quick Cosmo before hitting the road as Jason began a conversation with a random bunch of women at the bar. Guess they liked the fact a gay guy was noticing their outfits. You joined for a while before the two of you left.

The next day was filled with relaxing and the two of you enjoying some time together, you both decided the gym was a better addition than staying in all day.

Of course, Jason asked for a different kind of cardio session as he offered to take you to bed and use you. You promised that tonight, but right now wanted a pump session.

Jason isn’t one for showing off, but you love his physique as much as you love him as a person, Jason’s ripped body was on show as he sent you a spicy pic from the other side of the gym.

A nearby woman stared at Jason as he snapped the shot, Jason threw his tank top back on as you appeared.

Jason sat in the bench press as you straddled his lap, assisting him with his lifts. You leant down to give Jason a kiss as he lifted you up.

Jason gave you a piggy back as he did squats with you on his back, your smaller frame helped Jason build some growth to his back and butt as he lifted you each time.

This stage was great for Jason, as he had someone to just simply accompany him. He had his earphones on, as did you, so there wasn’t much of a conversation, but just being in your presence was enough.

Jason had many stages in his life, from Robin to Arkham Knight, to Red Hood. But his favourite stage, was you being his boyfriend. The moments with you were Jason’s favourite.

#red hood #gotham #red hood fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader #arkham knight x male reader #brayan lopez

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ziggyevenstar · 22 days

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i was put on this earth to hold my boyfriend’s hand as we both sing along to some of laufey’s romance-repulsed songs. grabe i’m so obsessed with my boyfriend😭 i’m super in love with his diverse range like he’s the guy who plays drums and guitar and listens to all the classic rock bands i adore growing up, and he was also there last night fangirling over laufey possibly even more than any of those teenage girls in the concert. he gives me princess treatment, he pays for stuff, opens doors for me, takes me out on regular dates and nicer dates, he loves to rot with me, he likes golf, likes tucking in his shirts, he’s conservative, doesn’t post anything online—hes traditional, BUT he’ll sing chappell roan at the top of his lungs. he treats me right, loves me right, he listens to me, doesn’t avoid confrontation, and he engages in conversation and never fights me. this is turning out as not a laufey post at all, but i just have to get this out. things are too good, i’m scared that one day i’ll notice him walking faster and leaving me behind while we walk. i’m scared that one day he’ll forget to open the door for me. scared we’ll one day go on a date and not have quality time. scared he’ll lose interest and not tell me. things are too good and i’m scared of a lukewarm kind of love, and it’s turning me into a significantly more paranoid (oa, di naman masyado) person

#my grandiose carnival in the sky

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mountsmase · 11 months

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a/n: hi 🤭 I just wanted to say a quick thank you for all of the love on my last fic, I was so nervous to post it and it means the world that you all enjoyed it 🩷 this fic is just a little something that came to my mind after all the golf content we got last weekend and it ended up being so much longer than I thought 👀 I loved writing this but it is still only the second piece of smut I’ve ever written, so it’s not perfect but I really do hope you guys enjoy it 🩷

word count: 5k

genre: Smut/Fluff

———————

Patience - MM7

You watch as Mason approaches the tee box, failing to follow the path of the ball when he eventually hits it.

The flexing of his muscles and the black ink of his tattoos a much more appealing sight to you, which you find yourself struggling to pull your gaze away from.

You’re currently sat on the cold, faux leather seat of a golf buggy, playing spectator whilst Mason plays a round of golf with a few of his friends.

It’s a rare week where neither of you have any obligations. International break has given him some free time after a busy month of matches and you finally have some time off work.

You knew he’d be playing golf with the boys today, and when he initially invited you to join them a couple of days ago you’d been hesitant and had ultimately said no. Letting him know that you wanted him to spend some uninterrupted quality time with his friends, which is something he’s not been able to do in a while.

He’d been pouty, arguing that he’d not been able to spend time with you in a while either, but you managed to convince him to go without you, really not wanting to infringe on his time with his friends. After all, you had the whole rest of the week to spend together, you could last one more day being without each other.

Or so you thought.

When he rolled out of bed early this morning, placing a quick kiss onto your forehead before asking you one more time if you wanted to join him, you caved.

Suddenly not so keen on the idea of being without him all day when you watched him change in to a simple black shirt with trousers that hug his body perfectly.

So here you are.

Woody steps up to take his shot and Mase makes his way back over to the cart. He puts his club away before settling into the seat next to you and takes the moment where the boys are distracted to pull you closer to him. Your body practically on top of his on the little leather bench.

You can’t help but sink into him as he peppers kisses on your shoulder, the light scratch of his beard sending shivers along your body as he continues his way up your neck, your hand landing on his thigh out of instinct.

When he sucks lightly on your soft spot, you slide you hand up a little higher, fingers grasping gently at his skin when you feel the hem of his boxers through the material of his trousers. Two can play at this game.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Masey” you whisper close to his ear.

“Who said anything about stopping?” He replies casually, a little too casually for your liking and when you catch that mischievous glint in his eye you know you’re not going to like whatever he says next.

“Just need to learn a little patience baby, I’m all yours once we’re home, promise” he murmurs close to your ear, placing one last kiss to your shoulder and your whole body heats up at the thought of being alone with him later.

You’re pulled out of your bubble when the rest of the boys climb into their respective carts, pulling away to go and find their balls.

Mason sends you a cheeky wink, hand settling high on your thigh as he follows them down towards the fairway and it’s then that you realise you’re in for a long afternoon.

The rest of the day goes by way too slowly, the time dragging as Mason does everything in his power to rile you up.

He’s always doing something, resting his hand a little too high up your thigh, his head falling into your neck and leaving barely there kisses to your skin when the others aren’t looking, brushing his fingers over you skin or resting against the side of the golf buggy, arms on full display whilst he acts completely innocent. It’s all driving you crazy.

His incessant teasing makes the minuets feel like hours and your patience is wearing thin.

Your busy schedules have meant you’ve not really had time to be intimate together recently, with one of you always being too tired or just generally not having the time.

You miss him loads, and that - combined with his endless teasing and the promises he made earlier - has your mind spiralling every time he so much as looks in your direction.

And you know you’re done for when he messes up his shot at a later hole, letting out a ‘fuck’ as he throws his head back.

All the boys laugh with him, but you find your mind in a completely different place. The sound of the groan leaving his lips and the stretch of his neck as he tilts it back sending a rush of heat straight to your core.

You know in that moment that you need to get him home soon, the urge to touch him becoming harder to resist by the second.

—————

“Finally,” you mutter, speaking under your breath when he pulls his car into the driveway of your shared home many hours later.

You can’t deny that you had a great day, enjoying the time you got to spend with him and his friends, but, after watching him play a full 18 holes, and then having to sit through a long meal at the club house, you’re glad to finally be alone with him - not to mention how incredibly worked up you are after all of his teasing.

You enter the house in front of him, kicking off your shoes before rushing upstairs, leaving him to lock up behind you.

You make your way into your bedroom and plug your phone into charge before heading over to your full length mirror to begin removing your jewellery.

Mase isn’t far behind you and you can see him entering the bedroom in the reflection of the mirror, closing the door softly behind him before making a beeline for you.

He stands behind you, meeting your gaze in the mirror and you almost melt when he reaches up, his fingertips brushing against your skin as he unclips your necklace.

He leans over, placing it into your little jewellery box that sits on the cabinet beside the mirror, and you feel goosebumps spread all over when his chest brushes against your back.

His hands gravitate to your hips, wordlessly turning you around so that you’re facing him and he barely gives you time to prepare before he’s crashing his lips into yours.

His plush lips move against yours in perfect sync, and he’s tightening his grip on your waist to pull you closer to him, your bodies now pressed together and your hands find his shoulders frantically. Needing something to hold onto when you feel his bulge press into you through the layers of clothing that separate you.

He coaxes your lips open, slipping his tongue into your mouth and the way he brushes it against yours in slow, languid strokes has all over thoughts leaving your mind until all that’s left is him. Him and his lips and his hands that are roaming all over your body.

“Been waiting for this all day” he says between kisses, chuckling against your mouth and you can’t help but roll your eyes. The two of you knowing full well that he was the one making you do the waiting.

His lips disappear from yours, head burying into your neck, carefully nipping at your delicate skin and if it weren’t for his hands on your hips, you would’ve melted to the floor then and there.

“Mase” you sigh when he sucks against your sensitive skin, the feeling of his warm lips and the scratch of his beard against your skin sending pleasure shooting down your spine.

Your hands grip onto his shoulders, his own roaming over your back and you arch up into him when he finds your sweet spot, teeth grazing the skin before sucking harshly.

“Mason, please” you whimper,

He smirks up at you, “Please what, bubs?”

“You know what”

“I don’t think I do,” he teases, “tell me what you want, baby girl”

“You, your mouth, your fingers, anything, please”

The heat of his body leaves yours and he wordlessly guides you over to the bed, pushing you down gently to sit on the mattress.

“Arms up” he instructs, and you do as he asks, lifting your arms in the air so that he can pull your t-shirt over your head and a groan rumbles in his throat when he notices the bra you’re wearing, the white lacy fabric leaving little to the imagination.

“Lie back for me, baby” he murmurs, and when your back hits the mattress, his lips are quick in finding your collar bone.

He scatters sloppy, open mouth kisses along your chest, stopping every now and then to pay extra attention to the spots where he knows you’re most sensitive.

The little noises leaving your lips spur him on as he makes his way further down your body, not leaving a single inch of skin untouched by his lips.

When he finally meets the waist band of your jeans he taps your hips in a silent request, and you lift them off the bed so that he can pull the denim down and over your legs.

Your panties follow close behind and you’re left bare in front of him.

“So pretty, baby, all of you” he says softly, breath fanning across your hip and his dark eyes meet your shy ones, your whole body flushing at his praise.

Your hands cover your face as he takes in your body beneath his, suddenly feeling insecure under his intense gaze.

“Hey, none of that, no hiding” he climbs up your body, moving your hands away from your face before brushing his lips over yours, “Please don’t ever hide from me, gorgeous”

He entwines his fingers with yours, placing a kiss to each of your knuckles before settling them beside you. Once he’s satisfied you won’t try and shy away from him again, he slides back down your body, kneeling on the carpet and settling in between your legs.

“Can I?” He hums against your thigh, and when he hears you let out a breathy ‘yes’ he leans forward, pressing a barely there kiss to your clit before licking up your entrance.

He works you up slowly, tongue moving skilfully through your folds and moaning at the taste of you on his tongue, the vibrations travelling all over your body. Your head falls back and eyes flutter closed in bliss as he continues to lap at you.

His hand reaches up and takes one of yours, tangling your fingers and letting you squeeze and hold onto him as your body becomes overrun with pleasure.

“Fuck, Mase, feels so good. Don’t stop” you plead and his tongue dips into your entrance, nose nudging against your clit as he begins to eat you out like you’re his last meal.

Your free hand sinks into his hair, needing something else to hold onto as pleasure strikes up your spine, and a satisfied groan rumbles in his throat at the feeling of your hand in his hair.

You begin to squirm against him, struggling to stay still as he continues to suck and lap against you and he hooks his arm under your thigh, hand finding your hip in an attempt to keep you still.

“Shit - Mase - gonna make me cum” you whine and hold on to his hand a little harder.

“Come on, let go for me bubba, I’ve got you” his voice is so soft, so opposite to his actions as he suctions his lips around your clit, flicking his tongue over your sensitive nub and that’s all it takes to have you crashing over the edge.

Your orgasm hits you like a wave, your body thrashing against the mattress as Mason works you through it.

He soothes his tongue over you, working you through it until your whimpering in sensitivity, your hand weakly pushing at his head.

He removes his mouth from you, leaning back so that he can look up at you properly and he swears he’s never seen a more beautiful sight. You, sprawled out on the mattress, hair spread around you like halo, flush covering your cheeks as you smile down at him lazily.

You reach down, hand cupping his cheek and you use your thumb to swipe away a small drop of your cum from his chin before holding it against his lips.

“Taste incredible, baby” he hums around your thumb when he sucks it into his mouth, licking the drop from your fingertip.

He climbs back over you, lips finding yours in a soft kiss and you thread your fingers through his hair, revelling in the weight of his body against yours.

You allow yourself to bask in the brief moment of bliss, letting yourself regain composure after your orgasm.

But it’s not long until you get fidgety again, overcome with the need to touch him.

Your hand makes its way over his clothed shoulder, pushing slightly and you use all of your strength to roll him over, straddling his thighs as he relaxes back into the sheets.

“You’ve got way too many clothes on” you mumble and he chuckles against your lips, sitting up slightly to allow you to pull his shirt over his head.

His trousers are next to go, your fingers finding the button and you’re quick in undoing it, sliding the fabric down his legs with his boxers.

“Much better” you drawl and he lets out a whimper when you lightly scratch your nails across his stomach.

Your lips follow their path, paying special attention to all of his little moles and freckles as you kiss your way down his body, ignoring the area he wants you most to continue your trail down his thighs.

He sucks in a breath and you feel the muscles in his thighs clench when you graze his sensitive skin with your teeth, one of his hands tangling into your hair and tugging gently in an attempt to direct you towards where he needs you.

“Relax, bubba” you whisper against his skin, thumbs rubbing soothing circles and you feel him settle beneath you.

“Y/N, please. I need your mouth baby” he begs when he notices that mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Patience is a virtue Mase. You made me wait and I’m simply returning the favour. Now, hands off.” You smirk up at him and he groans in response, throwing his head back into the pillows.

His arms lays limp beside him, and he throws one over his face when you mumble a quick “good boy”, the praise going straight to his cock and you feel a sense of pride when you see it twitch out the corner of your eye.

Then he’s groaning out in frustration when your hands leave him completely so that you can get a little more comfortable between his legs.

One of your hands returns to his thigh, walking your fingers up his skin slowly and he jolts when you finally touch him, length twitching when you run your fingertip along the underside. Not using enough pressure for him to really feel it, but enough to drive him mad.

Your other hand joins and wraps around his base when you reach his tip, smearing the pre cum that’s collected and he lets out a desperate whimper when he feels your thumb rubbing over his slit.

He feels thick and heavy in your palms when you stack your hand on top of the other and twist them slowly, applying a little more pressure and watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, both of his hands clutching the bed sheets in an attempt to not touch you.

“Feel good, Masey?” you coo and he nods his head quickly, unable to form a coherent sentence as his eyes pop open again, just in time to see you lowering your head.

You wrap your lips around his head, your tongue flicking over his slit and you pull your hands away, bracing them on his thighs as you move your mouth further down his length.

You go as far down as you can, and he hisses at the sensation of his tip hitting the back of your throat before you’re pulling back up.

The moan that leaves his lips has butterflies erupting in your tummy.

“Fuck Angel, feels so good, you’re so - oh fucking hell” he moans and you flutter your eyes open, finding his already on you, blown out pupils staring down at you.

You continue to bob your head, hand coming up to work what you can’t fit inside of your mouth and your fingers and lips work in perfect sync.

When your other hand begins fondling with his balls he can’t help it anymore and his hand goes flying to the back of your head.

You let it slide, gazing up at him through your lashes and by the look on his face and the noises leaving his lips, you can tell he’s in heaven.

“I-I’m close,” he moans, fingers tangling into your hair “gonna cum y/n, oh my god” he pants out as you relax your jaw, taking as much of him as you can until your gagging around him.

“Come for me, Mase” you breath out and with a final twist of your hand, he’s cuming into your mouth.

You swallow all of him, working him through his high and when his hips start bucking up out of sensitivity, you leave one final kiss to his tip before pulling off of him.

“Holy shit, y/n, you’re so good at that” he laughs, scrubbing a hand over his flushed face before reaching out for you.

You settle on top of him, feeling his heart beating where your chest presses against his and you leave a series of kisses up his collar bones, making your way up his neck and to his lips.

His lips meet yours in a soft kiss, tongue pushing into your mouth and when he tastes himself on your own, he lets out a content sigh.

You stay like that for a few minuets, enjoying the calmness of the moment before you feel him hardening again against your thigh.

You giggle as he hides his face in your neck in embarrassment.

“You okay there?”

“Need to be inside you, angel” he speaks into your neck, neediness evident in his voice.

“I’m all yours, love” you send him a cheeky smile, rolling onto your back when he nudges your shoulder and he crawls on top of you.

His fingers fiddle with your bra, pulling the strap back before letting it snap back into place.

“Let’s get this off” he mumbles and you sit up slightly, allowing him to reach around and unhook your bra.

He pulls the straps down your arm, throwing it somewhere behind him and you watch as his pupils dilate at the sight of you completely bare in front of him.

His lips make their way down your chest, and he speaks between kisses.

“So” kiss, “fucking” kiss, “gorgeous” kiss.

The last kiss lands right next to your left nipple and he doesn’t hesitate to shift slightly, lips leaving an open mouthed kiss to the hardened nub.

He brings his hand up, thumb stroking over the neglected nipple and you arch your back in desperation.

“Mason, need you, please baby” you moan breathlessly, and you here him chuckle against your skin.

“You’ve got me baby,” he whispers right next to your ear, leaving a kiss to your cheek as he spreads your legs a little wider and settles between them.

“You ready, bub?” he asks softly and your lips tug up into a smile.

You cup his cheek and lock your eyes onto his, “Yeah, baby. Want to feel you.”

He nods, nudging his nose against yours as he braces one hand beside your head, the other guiding himself between your folds.

Your hand lands on the back of his neck when you feel him sliding into you slowly, wincing at the slight stretch you feel after not being with him like this for a while.

“You okay?” He asks, voice full of concern when he sees the slight look of discomfort on your face.

You meet his worried eyes, nodding in reassurance. “Yeah bub, just go slow please”

“Of course,” he pushes his hips forward, making sure to be gentle whilst he buries himself to the hilt inside of you.

“Let me know when I’m okay to move” his thumb brushes in tender motions over your hip, attempting to sooth any discomfort you may be feeling.

You stay like that for a few moments, his head hidden away in your neck, brushing gentle kisses against your skin whilst he gives you all the time you need to adjust to him.

You slide your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging slightly to get him to look at you.

“You can move, Mase” you whisper when his eyes meet yours.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, forehead resting against yours and you moan out in unison when he pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back in.

He keeps his pace slow, swearing under his breath and digging his teeth into his bottom lip at the feeling of your plush walls surrounding him.

“Missed this so much Angel” his raspy voice is barely audible when he speaks against your lips.

All you can do is nod, unable to find your voice when he picks up his pace but wanting him to know you missed it too.

His warm palms slide up the back of your thighs, finding the curve of your bum before hooking your legs around his waist.

The new angle allows him to to reach much deeper and you feel a bolt of pleasure shoot up your spine when he brushes that special spot inside of you.

“Fuck, Mase. So good” you whimper out, hand finding his shoulder and your holding on so hard that your sure you’ll find little crescent shaped marks there later.

His face finds home in your neck, thrusts faltering slightly when he feels your silky walls clench around him.

“Oh my god, Angel. Going to make me cum already” he stutters, slightly embarrassed at how quickly he’s approaching his second orgasm of the night.

Little does he know, you’re just as close. Still sensitive from your previous orgasm.

“I’m there with you, bub” you move your hips up in time with his, cupping his cheek to move his face from your neck.

You meet his eyes and the sight of him on top of you is almost too much. His hair tousled from your fingers, cheeks flushed and lips swollen as he continues thrusting into you at a brisk pace.

His hand grips at your hip a little tighter and the other grabs your free hand, fingers tangling with yours as he brings them up to rest next to your head.

“Fucking hell, y/n. So tight” he grunts and you let out a string of curse words when you feel your orgasm barrelling towards you.

“Gonna cum, Mase” you sob, eyes squeezing closed as he buries himself to the hilt inside of you.

“I’ve got you, bubba, let go for me” he rasps close to your ear.

And that’s exactly what you do. Moaning out as he hooks his arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him as your orgasm hits you like a wave.

Your high is overwhelming, the sound of his voice and moans the only thing you can focus on as your body is overcome with pleasure, the feeling rippling through you leaving you breathless.

Your walls constricting around him is what sends him over the edge, his whimpers are muffled in your neck, his body collapsing on top of yours as he hits his own orgasm.

He keeps himself buried inside of you as you both come down from your highs. Your fingers scratching over his neck and back as he slumps on top of you, completely spent.

Neither of you make the effort to move for a while, and he stays buried inside of you whilst you bask in the serenity of the moment. Your heart rates and breathing slowly returning to normal.

He groans when he eventually pulls out of you, head dropping to your shoulder and you brush a series of kisses over his temple.

“You feel up for showering bubba?” He asks softly, fingers brushing your hair out of your face as he looks down at you lovingly.

You send him a soft smile, nodding lazily and you let him scoop you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you through to the en-suit bathroom.

He switches the bathroom light on, immediately dimming it when you wince from the brightness before he sets you down on the counter.

A kiss is brushed against your temple and then he’s turning around, turning the shower on and making sure it’s the right temperature.

You catch his eyes widening slightly when he turns back to you. “What? Is something wrong?” you ask, slightly alarmed by his expression but his face softens as soon as he hears your voice.

“No Angel, nothing wrong. Let’s just say, it’s a good job we’ve got no plans tomorrow” he chuckles, thumb brushing over your neck and all of your confusion goes away when you turn and look into the mirror.

There’s a dark bruise standing out against your skin, a few lighter ones littered across your chest.

“You really went for it, huh?”

“Sorry” he shrugs, not really looking sorry at all.

“No you’re not”

“Nope, not one bit”

You turn back to him, slapping his chest with the back of your hand playfully before he’s helping you down from the counter and guiding you into the shower.

Your body slumps into his when he comes up in front of you. His arms wrap around your waist in a hug and his head finds home in your neck as the water cascades over you.

“love you” his voice is muffled against your skin but you hear him loud and clear, your heart fluttering at the simple phrase.

“Love you too, Masey”

You bring your hand up to the back of his head, fingers running through his damp hair and scratching over his scalp and you feel his chest vibrating against yours when he hums in content.

He steps back and takes your body wash from the little shelf, the familiar citrusy scent engulfing you as he squirts some into his palm, lathering it up before massaging it into your skin.

He pays extra attention to your hips and thighs, helping to sooth the aching skin with his thumbs before shuffling so that you’re both under the water again.

He helps you rinse off, letting you clean him up as well before stepping out of the shower in front of you.

He wraps his own towel around his waist and then takes yours from the heated towel rack, holding it out for you to step into.

When you step out of the shower, his arms are immediately circling you again, wrapping you up in the warm towel as pulls you against his chest.

“Someone’s clingy” you utter, looking up at him through your lashes and if he blushes, you can’t tell. The heat from the shower already leaving his cheeks a little flushed.

“Can’t help it, just want to hold my girl” his confession makes your heart warm and you smile up at him softly.

“How about you go and get into bed, I won’t be long and then you can hold me all night” you suggest, the idea sounding more than appealing.

“I’ll get some pj’s ready for you” he says, pressing his lips to your temple before leaving the bathroom so you can finish getting ready for bed.

Your quick in finishing up your skin care routine, not bothering with any extra serums tonight, the thought of him waiting in bed for you being way more appealing than the idea of standing in this bathroom for even a minute longer.

You switch the bathroom light off and enter the much softer atmosphere of the bedroom. Mase is already tucked up in bed waiting for you, looking all cozy and snug under the duvet.

Some fresh panties and one of his shirts sit a neat pile at the end of the bed and you quickly pull them on, throwing your towel into the laundry basket before climbing into bed next to him.

“Feeling okay, bubba?”

“I need to watch you play golf more often” you giggle, settling into bed next to him.

“Oh, definitely” he sighs, hooking an arm over your waist and sliding you closer to him.

“Seriously though, thank you for coming with me today, I know we’ve technically still seen each other everyday but I really have missed you the last couple of weeks” he speaks shyly, and you can just about make out the blush littering his cheeks in the warm light.

“I missed you too,” you lean up and meet his eyes, “so much”

His hand goes to the back of your neck when you lean in to kiss him. It’s slow, calm and loving as he works his lips against yours carefully.

You rest your head again his bare chest when you pull away, snuggling into him and relaxing completely against his body as he reaches over and switches the lamp off.

The room is engulfed in darkness as he shuffles around a little, getting comfy before settling his arms around you.

“Good night, my love” is the last thing he says to you, and you just about manage a quiet ‘good night’ back before you’re drifting off to sleep, Mase not far behind as you both fall into the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

———————

Hope you enjoyed 😚 feedback appreciated as always 🩷🫶🏻

#mason mount imagine #mason mount concepts #mason mount x you #mason mount x reader #mason mount #mason mount smut #mason mount fluff #mason mount fic

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aloysiavirgata · 5 months

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Prompt: leather jacket, pay phone, Southern accent.

Mulder’s Southern accent is pure Hilton Head; the Long Island Lockjaw of the magnolia-and-sweet-tea set. His mother’s people came from here and he learned to golf with them. Mulder knows about Lowcountry food and unironic madras trousers and herons in the pre-dawn light. He knows when to say “The War of Northern Aggression,” with a laconic wink.

Mulder knows all the lyrics to “The Battle of New Orleans.” He happily eats shrimp with the heads still on.

Scully - lower middle class Navy brat with aristocratic cheekbones and a chip on her fine shoulder - is his acceptable Yankee wife. She’s never going to say “pecan” the proper way. Never going to cut her eyes just right at white shoes after Labor Day. They named her Jessica and said she was from Sag Harbor, and the Louis Vuitton tote bag is getting her by.

Scully, in AquaNet and Lilly Pulitzer, misses Mulder’s Mid-Atlantic cool, his New England snobbery. Misses his firm opinions on Chicago-style pizza (a casserole) and Billy Joel (unironic legend). She wants her hand pressed to his sternum in a grey t-shirt and a leather jacket, a faded hoodie from the Vineyard.

Mulder (Emmett, she hisses in her own head) knows that quality families would never repair the upholstery because it’s déclassé to care. Would never

Mulder eats a cheese straw, Mulder nuzzles her tingling ear in the steamy June evening, tells a funny story at the Cavendish-Lawrence wedding.

“I swear to Christ, Jessica had to pull over and find a payphone,” Mulder says, to his starry—eyed audience. “My poor sweet girl on the side of the road with a tornado alert, ordering Christmas presents.”

Mulder clutches her to him, his fingers big and hot and wide against her waist as the audience titters with admiration. Mulder smells like fresh cotton and old money. Mulder looks like the best terrible decision she’ll ever make.

She’s going to fuck him tonight, she decides. She simply cannot stand it anymore, and it would be such a shame to waste away without having had him, like some medieval ascetic. She wants him to lick her tattoo, to bind her to the living world.

Mulder drops a kiss on her buzzing cheek, near the tiny neutron star encroaching on her very essence.

She hears the tide lap against the dock, laughs the way Jessica is expected to laugh.

She feels alive, like sparks rising towards the sun.

#xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #my fic #msr #inbox #Cancer arc #undercover #Prompt

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sunlightmurdock · 1 year

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for thots night

i feel like older bf bradley would be rlly big on doing things u like - like seeing ur fav singer together, watching what kind of movies u like, etc. his love language is quality time/physical touch & u wanna reciprocate that so u decided to go golfing w/ him one morning & u quickly learned why u guys always do things u like (i feel like bradley is fun & all but his taste in hobbies & food & stuff is just bland/vanilla) but he looks so happy so u hold in ur boredom 😭

stop 🥹😭 you know he would try so hard to be interested in the things you’re interested in. From music and tv shows to your career and hobbies — he can name your least favourite coworker just as easily as he can name your favourite song. He knows you like the back of his hand.

And it’s not effortless either. He got it wrong — a lot in the beginning — but he never stopped trying. It took him three months to learn what your hobby involves, but he would always listen to you talk about it anyway. There are times he doesn’t understand. Times he’s had a long day himself. Times he really just doesn’t want to watch that movie. But you do, so he always will.

So, finally, you force yourself along to one of his hobbies. He’s thrilled to have you joining him for Saturday morning golf, beaming the entire drive there and telling you that you’re going to be a natural at it.

You’re not so convinced. When he sits at home and watches golf, you’ve never been particularly interested. But — he has promised to let you drive the cart. You’re trying not to kick your feet as you both head to the first hole. It’s early and this is going to take all morning. It would be wrong to be bored after all the effort he makes for you, but you just can’t help it.

“I’ll go first. Watch what I do. But I can help you if you want, too.” Bradley smiles, setting his ball on the tee. You lean back and give him a convincing enough smile and nod, propping yourself against the cart.

Bradley wraps both of his palms around the end of the club. He turns his head and stared down the green. Then, he pulls the club back into a high swing. His arms flex against the black fabric of his polo, his hat twisted backwards and his caravans set on the bridge of his nose.

Torso twisted, the club is only mid-air for just a second. It gives you just enough time to see the way his thick back strains against the fabric of his shirt before he swings hard and sends the ball flying along the course.

All too quickly, he turns toward you and smiles. “Your turn, honey!”

But, there’s already a cunning grin toying on your lips as you walk over and reach for the driver in his hand. You’re sharing his until he can convince you to join him more often. Bradley hands it to you pliantly.

“Could you help me?” You ask him, sweetness pouring from your tongue, disguising your motives. Bradley nods his head and positions himself behind you.

“Alright, so your hands need to be like this,” Bradley explains, his big hands wrapping over the top of yours and guiding them along the end of the club. “And then your feet kinda like…”

He wedges his foot between yours and gently kicks your ankles further apart. Really, he’s asking for you to mess with him. So, you do. You bend pliantly at the waist and wiggle your hips back against him, “Like this?”

And it turns out that maybe golf isn’t the hobby that the two of you will enjoy together — because there’s no way that Bradley can get through eighteen holes with a boner.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #jake seresin #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #thots night (:

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fictionalwhores · 2 years

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Dating Rafe Headcanons...

-Rafe’s shows love through quality time with a mix of acts of services

-He makes sure to at least have one legitimate date a month and to hang out with you at least once a week and spend some time watching movies or goofing off together. Rafe gets really upset if his schedule is busy or if his dad is being a pain in the ass and he isn’t able to hang out with you as much

-He gets busy a lot throughout the day on the days he can’t hang out with you but he tries his best to send you a good morning and good night text and promises he will listen about your day and what happened when he is free

-If you’re stressed he does his best to help you with whatever it is, even if it means staying up until 3am with you organizing all the lists of things you have to do and then working with you on some of your school assignments, making you food and making sure you eat it and helping you relax while he cleans your room and then cuddles you

-Whenever you sit in his lap Rafe always gives you a cheeky smile before squeezing your boobs or your ass (He just likes them okay)

-Rafe’s favorite pet names for you consist of Babe, pretty girl, and princess (Can be sweet or taunting)

-Taking his dad’s boat for dates on the water

-At parties there are lots of stealing looks across the room as you make your way closer to each other

-Rafe keeping his hand in your back pocket or on your waist because he’ll be damned if another man is about to touch you

-Rafe always walks with you to get your drink at parties because he knows how kooks are and he doesn’t want something to happen to you

-He hates dancing and so he always watches you in the middle of the crowd and loves watching your hips move

-You convince that boy to STOP WEARING GEL IN HIS HAIR

-when he’s sleepy he gets kinda whiney and rubs his eyes a lot and pouts at you and he just turns into your big baby

-If he walks in to see you in his shirt he’s either gonna be like “Awwwwww” or “Fuckkkkkk” there’s no inbetween and there’s no telling which one you’re gonna get

-Rafe always gives you a small peck on the lips, smiles at you, then leans back down for a deeper kiss

-He likes buying you small random gifts and tries to brush it off as nothing but his heart always melts when you love it

He gets kinda distracted when you talk and just smiles while watching you because you’re so

-If you’re short Rafe loves standing behind you when you’re in an argument and glaring at the other person over your head like “Go ahead. I dare you to hurt her”

-If you’re a tall girl (First of all he swoons over your legs) and he’d stand next to you waiting for something to happen

-Rafe lowkey kinda panics when you get drunk because he’s trying to wear off whatever he drank and focus on finding you now

-but he’s the best at taking care of you when you’re back home

-His hands are big and yes they’re used for kinky things but like….. Come on he gives the best massages whether you’re having cramps or your back hurts or you have a knot in your neck

-Just imagine him cupping your face when you’res stressed and kissing your forehead while his thumbs work against your temples

-Going to business dinners with his dad and Rose

-Rafe’s holding your hand under the table the whole time because even if he is big and seems bold, he’s really scared and he’s trying not to say the wrong thing to upset his dad

-Him taking you golfing and you teasing him if he misses

-If you didn’t know how to play in the beginning of the relationship, you definitely do now

-Having sooo much fun driving the golf cart around and chasing each other to the next hole

#rafe cameron #outerbanks #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #outerbanks imagine #outerbanks fic #drew starkey

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welcometo79s · 30 days

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[repost because I got shadow-banned and I'm back now]

@clonemmunism got me thinking with their post about the war ending and the clones just making very bad fashion choices so here's my thought on what everyone would wear and my rating:

Hunter [4/10]:

Hunter doesn't really care about being fashionable. We got a glimpse of what he would wear in The Bad Batch and I don't think it's very good. He owns a couple of cute scarves but usually he just dresses like a less fashionable Cut Lawquane. And Cut is already pushing it. It's nothing too bad, he just looks like some farmer on Dantooine. No, the bad thing about Hunter is that he literally does not differentiate between clothes he wears going out and clothes he wears practicing knife throwing and juggling with. So most of his stuff has little cuts and tears in it. He also sticks to the type of clothes that Cut gave him, which is the only thing saving him from being a fashion nightmare. He did however try to pick absolutely atrocious clothes for Omega until Echo stepped in. Like he'd attempt to get her a pink shirt with a porg vomiting a rainbow on it and military khakis.

Echo [10/10]:

His outfits are top-notch, he just doesn't dress properly for the seasons. But hey, that's not what we're ranking here. Echo is a crop top guy. Crop tops in summer. Crop tops in winter. And he looks good in them. He wears regular black pants and a variety of casual jackets on top of the crop tops. Sometimes leather jackets, sometimes bomber jackets, sometimes parkas, sometimes open shirts loosely hanging over the tops. Gets matching accessories and high quality boots for his outfits too. Ends up getting himself a belly button piercing. Fashion icon.

Tech [6/10]:

He only has one outfit and it's beige suit pants and a white shirt that's stuffed into the pants. He owns multiple duplicates of the pants and the shirt. Leather shoes. The only thing he switches out about the outfit is that he wears a variety of funky bow ties.

Wrecker [4/10]:

I'm sure there's people on here who found Wrecker's beekeeper outfit from the Saleucami episode cute but it's not very fashionable, nor are the rest of his clothes. Fisherman hats. Crocs. The "my 50 year old dad on the balcony" shoes (those cork sandals). Ponchos and pants that don't fit together color-wise. Sooo many tie dye shirts. Those jeans fabric shorts with lots of cuts in them. The very short ones. Very rarely an elegant evening gown he looks really good in. That gets him an extra point.

Crosshair [5/10]:

He's the Hot Topic Brigade. He has a style and he sticks to it. Some people like it and some don't. Almost always wears a leather jacket. Buys all his clothes at the Star Wars equivalent of Hot Topic.

Fives [7/10]:

Usually wears black jeans and some black t-shirt with printed words on it. Sneakers. Jeans jackets, sometimes with fur. His outfits are good but he wears some of the most atrocious shirts known to mankind. On a good day you get "Viva la Clonevolution", "I'm a Republic War Crime" or "Enemy of the State". On worse days he might wear something that says "Sparkle on you crazy doggo!", "I eat cement", "I can't fucking do be do be do it anymore" (all real shirts by the way) or "Call me the Uwunator". The otherwise completely normal, nice looking outfit adds to the insanity. Sometimes Echo pretends he doesn't know him. It's the fact that Fives does this on purpose that really gets Echo.

Rex [1/10]:

Listen. The Bad Batch and Fives have the privilege of having Echo to be the damage control for their fashion choices. Now we're getting into the bad territory. Rex has so many of these white tank tops that you can see his nipples through. Sometimes there's hot sauce stains on them. He also has a fuzzy jacket that Fives got him as a joke. Rex does not know it was supposed to be a joke. At this point Fives is too intimidated to correct him. He wears light shorts that some rich kid would wear to the golf course under the tank tops. And cowboy boots. Also huge elegant statement necklaces on top of this. And that one stupid fisher hat that says "rexcellent" on it.

Hardcase [2/10]:

Listen the only reason Hardcase has more points than Rex is that Hardcase doesn't want to look fashionable, Hardcase wants to look fun and that he does. He joins Fives in the cringe t-shirt extravaganza. Would wear the ugly pink porg shirt that Hunter wanted to get for Omega. See-through jackets. Glittery heart sunglasses. Glittery silver disco pants that get wider at the bottom. Rainbow bracelets that work like rattles. He annoys everyone around him by shaking his hands to his "improv gospel". Red leather boots that go up to his thighs. Sometimes he wears them under the disco pants, sometimes over them. Fives loves his outfits. He's the only one. Sometimes Hardcase tries out a variety of colorful wigs.

Tup [9/10]:

He looks so cute. So many people hit on him. Lets his hair grow a little longer and starts wearing half-buns. Also a crop top guy, just a little shy about it at first. Wears earrings and looks really nice with them. Has delicate wrist tattoos, maybe some branches with flowers wrapping around his arms. Otherwise simple, normal pants and sneakers.

Jesse [3/10]:

Tup and Fives are carrying the 501st in terms of fashion. The rest are all fashion don'ts. Jesse is no exception. He also wears crop tops but his don't have sleeves or straps. It's just a strapless bandeau top hanging over his pecs. On top of that? Baggy oversized jacket with a comical amount of pockets that he always stuffs full of things. He's been stopped multiple times by the Coruscant Guard and searched as a suspect for being a spice dealer. He just has his pockets stuffed full of candy though. Baggy pants with equally as many pockets fading from blue into purple into red. The jacket is a dark green. Sparkly golden dance slippers.

Dogma [1/10]:

Big sun hats. Very tight leather pants that end just below his crotch area and then restart at the knee. The pants have two parts basically. The two parts are not connected. See-through sneakers. Frilly white shirts that some 18th century vampire would wear. Tie with little loth cats on it. All of this in combination btw.

Fox [10/10]:

I can do this in one sentence, look up "dark academia outfit men" on Pinterest and you get Fox's style.

Mayday [0/10]:

His isn't even an outfit, it's just a bunch of fabrics he bought just like that in the market and somehow wrapped himself in them. There's no shirt, pants, jacket or anything like that, they're just pieces of fabric wrapped around his body like towels. One of them he wears as a scarf. On a good day he looks like some type of monk. On a bad day he just looks like a mess.

Howzer [3/10]:

You know that outfit Sportacus wears in LazyTown? That's his style. He wears things looking similar to that.

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spideyhexx · 4 days

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sam woodbridge fact sheet

a long overdo list of random facts for sam (an OC), enjoy <3

Samuel Alexis Woodbridge (s.a.w., yes those are his initials)

age range 26-29 ish??? Never discussed, but this is what I have been envisioning.

Pitcher for the Yankees (undetermined on the team, but that's what we last talked about)(his number is 47)

Has four sisters, two younger, two older.

Originally from a small town in Maine, but now permanently lives in NYC

Has one earring and a nose ring (both silver)

one time got a tongue piercing on his off season and loved it

His teammates gave him the nickname, "Woody," yes because of his name, but also because he got a boner in the middle of practice when he was a rookie and he hasn't lived it down since

Went to college, played baseball there, but also majored in sports journalism and minored in fine arts

Was usually deemed a class clown in school, was a theater kid in high school just for fun

Deep sleeper

Loves taking pictures with a digital camera

Super talkative. Sam is outgoing and friendly, just loves conversation and new people

Love languages are physical touch and quality time

Will be a full on slut for you

Any and all photoshoots of him have a silly vibe

JUST A SILLY GUY!!! He doesn't take himself too seriously, and sometimes he's okay with knowing when to tone it down and be serious, but once in a while, misses the cue on when to stop and actually be serious

Absolutely loves Sabrina Carpenter's music, but otherwise, most of his music is all from the 90s in a variety of different genres

Dresses casually, lot of jeans, t shirts, sweaters, crewnecks, henleys, etc. A good baseball cap, sneakers or work type boots.

Sends voice notes and middle of the day selfies no matter what he's doing

Shuts down during arguments and has a little trouble communicating in those high emotion moments, which leads to ignoring the situation for a little bit

Which also leads to him brushing off some emotions he's feeling and using humor instead

He is online and a fan favorite of the team

Was always an athletic guy

Is an Eagle Scout

Did a manscaped ad once

His family has iconic christmas parties

Penguins are his favorite animal

Only into baseball, he doesn't care for any other sport (besides maybe mini-golf and bowling)

Loves tender love-biting (reciprocating and receiving)

An overdramatic man when he has a minuscule cold

Got his nose ring piercing because his sister was scared to get his ear pierced and he made the deal he'd get a piercing with her

His favorite snack is three oreos

has texted "prepare your panties," on multiple occasions

Huge hsm2 fan

looks like a fuckboy sometimes, but he's nowhere near that, he really is just a sweet guy

muttering tiktok audios 7 times out of 10

More dominant than submissive in bed, but only focused on both him and his partner having a good time

One time shaved his hair into a buzzcut and bleached it like his other teammates, but never again after his family's (and you's) reaction

Curses a lot (favorites are; fuck, motherfucker, dickhole)

Will make a tiktok with his friends and partner

definition of gentlemen in the streets, freak in the sheets

#let me know if i missed anything we have talked about and your thoughts #this will be an ongoing list but #it's just a starter #so we have some basic info we've talked about since I started making sam <3 #baseballboy

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stuffnthangsss · 3 days

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Gravity Falls x Percy Jackson: GF Characters as Demigods Pt. 4

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3

Soos as a kid of Hephaestus (kinda changes canon tho but hey another Hispanic Hephaestus kid alongside Leo).

Soos is a handyman and Hephaestus was considered the god of artisans aka craftsmen and carpenters.

Hephaestus was also described to have a lack of social skills which we can see Soos have throughout the show especially in the “Soos and the real girl” episode! I think Soos and his personalities match quite a bit minus Hephaestus’ resentfulness since we don’t rly see Soos hold a grudge. Some also describe Hephaestus as friendly and peaceful which are some of Soos’ greatest qualities.

Wendy as a maiden hunter of Artemis!

I couldn’t think of any other demigod possibility beside maybe Demeter?? But I was talking to my friend about her being an Artemis kid and they said that “Robbie would be her turning point definitely 😭” so credits to them for that!! And they also that they thought Wendy’d be like Thalia and against becoming a hunter for a while (hence her becoming a maiden at 15 rather than 12).

I also searched it up and not only is Artemis the god of archery/hunting, she also had to do with the wilderness and FORESTS which works for Wendy! Being of a lumberjack family.

EDIT: I wrote these posts before watching weirdmaggedeon and now after watching s2ep18, I noticed Wendy literally using a crossbow lol so yay Artemis Wendy.

In PJO at least, Artemis has authority over wolves and I found this image of Wendy in a wolf shirt lol.

Onto to some more minor characters…

Robbie as a kid of Hecate (necromancy/magic) maybe?? Due to that time he tried to mind control Wendy into being with him LMAO

Or hades ?? Since his parents are funeral home directors/morticians. And his emo-ness fits with Hades and is kinda like Nico lol.

Oh actually maybe Thanatos!! Bc idk if Robbie would be a kid of the big 3. Thanks to my friend again who mentioned him as the god of death itself as I forgot who Thanatos was lmao

Or maybe even Apollo? He’s seen w a guitar often and has a band. But im more torn between Hecate and Thanatos.

I think ppl would first think of Pacifica as a Aphrodite kid but I raise you Hermes! Pacifica.

Hermes was the god of wealth and luck (and also associated with business) which goes well with Pacifica’s rich upbringing

Also similar to what I said about Stan in the previous post and Hermes kids (Luke), Pacifica started off as a misunderstood character

Hermes is also the patron of athletics and we know Pacifica is at the very least, good, at mini golf

I like Pacifica as Hermes but can’t properly express why 😭😭. She’s wealthy and lucky obv but she’s also misunderstood as conceitful? I also think she could be really playful and fun if her parents weren’t overbearing. So this is mostly headcanon LMAO

From my friend: “her parents conceit is real but hers is to protect herself” ; “she’s shown she likes to let go and all but yeah, her parents suck”

I said how “she’d def be thought of as a possible traitor in that book where there was the traitor subplot” & “she prolly would be connected to Luke… and the fact that they’re both blonde”

Please share ur thoughts!! <3

#gravity falls and percy jackson #gravity falls and pjo #gravity falls #gravity falls au #soos ramirez #gravity falls soos #wendy corduroy #gravity falls wendy #robbie valentino #robbie gravity falls #pacific northwest #pjo

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yesitsmewhataboutit · 2 years

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Can You Say Triplets?

Tom Holland x Reader

Anyone who says Tom and the twins don’t look alike are liars… sometimes even you can’t tell them apart if you’re not looking directly at their face

»»——⍟——««A/n: STAWP IM SCREAMING AND CRYING I finished this a few days ago but didn’t outline it and I just came to and was about to copy and paste to proofread and I look and the ending didn’t save for some reason😃😃and I do t remember exactly how I did it so now this ending is garbage and I’m sad cuz this whole fic is ruined and not at all how I wanted it. Idk why I’m even posting it

Masterlist

̶̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ Requests open　 ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶

Going golfing with his brothers is something Tom loves. He does it for fun, plus when he needs to relax and de-stress a bit. You know the usual routine. They go out around 1 o’clock, golf for a while and horse around, then go get food and drinks on the way home. Tom always picked you up food too which you loved.

Today is no different. You wake up to light kisses on your shoulder from Tom, his arms around you, and when you turn around, his sweet tired face as he looks at you through tired eyes. You have your time in bed, and he heads out with Harrison and Harry. So it’s just you for the day, everyone else was also doing their own stuff.

It’s a normal day, you make some food, lounge around a bit, and watch some tv. Inevitably, you end up where you always do; in your bed watching a show. It’s only around 8 o’clock, but you can feel your eyes getting heavier. You know it’s too early to fall asleep, but that doesn’t stop your body from still pulling, and as always, you lose the fight.

The boys get in around 11 o’clock, you wake up around 1 am. The tv is still on, and the bed is cold, but you can tell the boys are home. Tired and delirious, you push yourself from bed to try to go find your London boy. The house is quiet and dark, aside from the little light coming from Harrison’s room, if you listen you could hear quiet sounds, but what catches your eye when you exit your room is the lump on the couch. It wouldn’t be the first time Tom sat down to take his shoes off but ended up collapsing from a mixture of drowsy and drinks.

You shuffle over to the couch, not having the energy it’d take to get him to wake up and move, instead deciding to join him. A soft smile spreads your lips as you get closer and you can make out the messy curls that lay all over his head.

You rub your eyes and melt onto the couch, laying practically on top of him cause of its size. “Welcome back, Tommy,” you say in a quiet slur of your words, reaching up and giving him a quick peck on his lips before snuggling in, feeling his arms curl around you. You drift to sleep almost immediately, but not before you hear a grunt of response come from him, and soon after, you fall asleep.

It’s not the best sleep you’ve ever gotten, you’ve slept on the couch before, but you chalk the low-quality sleep up to the weird position you were laid. “Y/n.” The warm body you’re next to helps, making you stay in a state between conscious and unconscious. “Y/n.”

“Hm?” You shuffle around, hearing a voice calling you but not really caring, wanting to go back to sleep, already feeling it too early to be awake.

“Y/n.” The voice says again, trying its best to nag you awake.

“What,” you drag and whine, trying to adjust into and more comfortable position.

“What are you doing?”

You sigh, giving up hope of going to sleep at the moment. “What do you mean?”

You adjust again, moving your hand around, it being rested on his stomach under his shirt, where you can usually feel his abs, but you can’t at the moment, you don’t think much of it. What makes your mind skip and backtrack, is the smell.

You smell alcohol on him, which isn’t unusual since of course he just went drinking, but the specific smell doesn’t add up. You smell a strong bitter alcohol, which is something Harry would drink, not Tom, he likes fruitier drinks usually, unless something is wrong, which you would’ve known. So why would he be drinking like Harry?

You hear the voice that you still haven’t stopped to comprehend who it is say something again, but you don’t fully hear as you open your eyes to look up at Tom. Only, it’s not Tom, it’s Harry.

“Oh my god!” You yell startled, your eyes going wide and your body automatically flitching back, immediately putting you on the floor, making you hit your head with a grunt. “Ow.”

You go to sit up, putting a hand to your head as you look around. You now realize you’re between a just awoken and confused Harry, and a Samantha, Harry’s girlfriend. You look toward the door, seeing Tom just as he enters from the hallway, a smug smirk going over his features as he sees the scene in front of him, already figuring out what happened.

"Ya alright there, love?" he asks as he walks over to you.

"I did it again," you say in a defeated tone.

"Yeah, yeah, it's alright," he says with a hint of a laugh.

"Sorry, Harry," you say as you take Tom's hand, and he helps you up, putting his arm around your waist and walking toward your bedroom.

"If this makes this any better, I honestly thought she was you too."

Masterlist

Ahem: @mcushvft @lnmp89 @laylasbunbunny @tomhollandfics

#tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #Tom Holland crack #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland oneshot #tom holland x fem #tom holland #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland x black!reader #tom holland x poc reader

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greenlitess · 2 years

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Crash Course.

pairing: johnny suh x reader

genre: fluff

tags: rich!johnny, spoiled!johnny

warnings: n/a

word count: 2.4k

synopsis: johnny isn’t really interested in golf like his father is-- at least, until you show up attempting to do your job and have him completely enraptured.

“Come on, Johnny, at least try to look a little more excited about the most intricate sport invented. It’s not gonna kill you— you might even end up liking it once you get the hang of it!”

Johnny offered a heavy sigh, shaking his head lightly with a chuckle that says everything but actual humor. He had been avoiding this … getting together for weeks, but his luck had ran out when his excuses did, and the next thing he knew, his dad had rented a cart at his favorite course. Apparently, he was a ‘regular’ and ‘everyone loved him’. Johnny is sure it’s not so much as genuine care so much as love for the amount of cash that he forked over, but he wasn’t about to tell his dad that when he also forked cash over to him.

“Mmm. You know.. golf isn’t really my speed, Dad.”

“Psh, you said that about basketball too. And rugby. And you excelled in both. You’re getting older too, so who’s to say you don’t need a sport like this.” His dad easily retorts(he supposed that where he got it from), patting the cart seat. Johnny takes a slow, reluctant seat after adjusting his linen shirt and making sure all of the important bits were properly inside the seat. He has to laugh a bit at his dad, because of course he had a point– he’d denounced both sports, despite how bored he was, and multiple trophies later… well, that spoke for itself. He hadn’t really played either seriously since college, but even quick pick-up games showed how much of an athlete he could be.

He didn’t consider golf athletic in the slightest– just another sport to show off how rich people spent their time– aka, his father. But it had been a while since they had spent quality time together, and the weight of being in his father's shoes sooner than later is heavy on his shoulders.

He wasn’t necessarily rich– yet. But he would be. And while he may not have the… want to play a sport like golf, the least he could was learn for the future. Nothing mattered but networking, anyway– and golf was one of the best ways to do it, according to the old man.

Somewhere between being deep in thought they had arrived at the first hole, and Johnny braced himself for the lectures he was about to hear as he stood up a bit straighter. Luckily, the weather is perfect; the sun shining with a slight overcast that slowly warms up the skin without being blistering. He did like good weather– maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

And truthfully, it really wasn’t. His dad was a good teacher, even if he was a bit wordy about it all. It was all in the wrists he loved to reiterate, over and over again, and while his first few hits had been definitely dead ducks, it wasn’t long before he was getting the hang of it, the movement of repeatedly swinging the club starting to become muscle memory as quickly as anything remotely requiring movement on his end did. Soon, balls that were moving only a few were moving several, and when his first ball floated, er, somewhere(he was blinded by the sun), he couldn't help the genuineness that appeared on his face as his dad patted his back.

Soon, he’s as loose as they come. They’re almost done with their path for the day, and he can… confidently be proven wrong with the enjoyment of spending time with his dad.

“How about a drink break, yeah?” His dad is calling out as he walks to their cart, and Johnny offers a soft nod as another cart, this time adorning a young woman( the only woman he had even seen outside, actually, which was mind boggling, frankly, but whatever), comes to a slow rolling stop.

You step off the cart with ease, the tennis skirt you adorn still perfectly white as always, perfectly paired with a pair of pearly white socks and shoes, and the baby blue collared tucked in as if you were a professional in this sort of thing.

Johnny tries not to stare as he picks the golf ball from the hole he had just managed to land, but it’s hard when the light seems to radiate from behind you like an angel. He’s confused for a few reasons; why someone so beautiful had managed to land themselves here in this moment… and even more confused when his father starts to make his way towards you as if you’re old friends.

In a way perhaps you were, though you wouldn’t call it that. He was a regular, just as regular as you were being a cart girl on a Thursday afternoon, so your paths crossed often.

Lucky him.

Your voice rings clear as you greet Mr. Suh, offering a bright smile that Johnny would swear is brighter than the sun, and several are pieced together at once. He walks up as if his legs are no longer really in his own control. Mr. Suh speaks of course, as Johnny offers a soft nod your way, to which you return.

“Oh, yes. This is my son, Johnny. Finally was able to drag him from his job to join the old man in the greatest sport in the world!”

Johnny sticks his hand out, but his eyes don’t leave yours, and somehow there is something oddly striking about them. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen eyes like that… well, ever.

Introductions are short, and sweet. He repeats your name as if he wants it to linger on his lips a little bit longer than necessary, and the smile he gives you has you quickly turning to your cart so you can get their order. “Nice to meet you… uh, the usual for you, Mr. Suh?” You peek into your cooler to see what you had, making sure it available, and he offers a nod as he places a club back into the bag of his own cart.

“You got it, and whatever my son wants. We haven't got much more, but it’s still early.”

You offer a soft chuckle a bit, and that moment Johnny’s father offers a boisterous laugh as he glances over, clearly seeing someone he recognizes. He’s already walking over as soon as the drink leaves your hand, and there’s a soft shaking of your head that’s good natured.

“I can assure you, he’s always that way.” Johnny’s voice is deep, and rich, with a natural rumble that has you turning to him in a bit of surprise, but it’s still light-hearted.

“Like father and son, perhaps?” You tease with a tilt of your head.Both of his eyebrows raise and he lets out a bit of a surprised sound between laughter and a gasp. You had caught him off guard with your response, which was a feat in itself, and he leans against the cart to get his own bearings.

“In some ways, sure. Not in all.”

“Ah, of course.” You say with a nod, and his brow raises again as he waits for you to elaborate-- but you don’t, only taking a sip of your own water, the sun warming your skin. Of course, you didn’t feel the need to. He was the son of one of the richest men you had ever come into contact with at the course, which can be both a good and bad thing.

More bad than good.

Most of these people had way more money than they knew what to do with, and the more money they had, the less manners they seemed to obtain. Mr. Suh wasn’t quite like that– you’d take five of him over some of the others on even his worst days.

And clearly the good genes ran in the family. Johnny was both striking and seemingly remarkable down the earth, as if you could run into him on the streets and he could be modeling some fancy brand.

You come down from your thoughts to look back at him, only to find him nearly gazing at you, eyes almost narrowed in thought and you have to fight to keep your face neutral. “You never told me what you wanted to drink.”

“I’m not picky. Can you surprise me?”

The ask has you blinking a bit. Usually, the drink requested is down to a science, even to the amount of ice cubes, but Johnny doesn’t seem to even waver, and you swear you see a hint of a twinkle in his eyes– or perhaps the sun reflecting just perfectly to see dark brown.

“Hmm. Alright.”

It’s simple enough to make a rum and coke, and he watches with a smirk as you expertly mix up the classic drink, placing three ice cubes exactly before you’re handing it to him and he takes it with a hand that just barely brushes yours.

It’s softer than you expect.

“It’s good.” He nods after a generous sip, and you find yourself looking away since your cheeks suddenly feel hot, but his question makes you focus again: “So.. is this what you do? You just… serve drinks?”

“Pretty much. Gotta make sure the patrons are comfortable.” You reply with a soft sigh, deciding to take a seat. They were your last stop before heading back anyway… and you’d be lying if you didn’t enjoy Johnny’s presence.

The feeling was mutual, and he leans against the cart with intense brown eyes and a gaze you know he knows exactly how to use. “I wasn’t interested in coming here, before.” He suddenly finds himself confessing.

“Hmm? And what changed?” You find yourself asking, looking back up at him, only to see full lips slowly curling up to an almost lopsided, but one-hundred percent devious smile, to which you roll your eyes, looking at the skyline to hide the one threatening on your own lips.

“Mmm. I don’t fraternize with patrons.” You respond— it’s not a lie, and it was technically a rule as well. You couldn’t mix pleasure and play with your work, and even… as attractive as Johnny Suh was, you weren’t willing to jeopardize your job for a pretty man— those came a dime a dozen at the course— along with pretty shiny wedding rings, free dinners and vows to ‘keep things between them.’

Johnny looks wounded, but there’s a twinkle in his eye that you can’t help but laugh at, head tilting back at all as he looks at you with almost a fond wonder. You were beautiful. And he wasn’t willing to give up that easily.

“I’m not exactly a patron, though.”

“Mmm, but your father is.” You retort, making him blow air out of his nose as he glances over to see his father still fraternizing. No matter— gave him more of a chance to change your mind.

“Is that me?” He responds, tilting his head with a rise of a brow that makes you quirk your own. You were sure, with those looks, with his charm, he was used to getting his way. Not that you particularly blamed him— if you looked like that you’d also use it to your advantage. “I’m not my father.”

“Ah, that’s what they all say, Mr. Suh.”

“Call me Johnny. I’m not my father, seriously.” He repeats then, softer, and while the smile is still at the edge of his lips, there’s a hint of seriousness to his words that have you pausing, before you allow yourself to slowly nod.

“… I believe you.” You murmur. And at the very least, a part of you did. Or perhaps you wanted to. So many of the kids were just clones of their parents. While Mr. Suh was one of the nicer patrons, who’s to say that Johnny wasn’t a spitting image in more ways than one?

Johnny stares then, the sun hitting your eyes just right to highlight the gold flecks in them, and for a moment he grows lost as you seem to think it over. Perhaps it’s the liquid courage he’s barely had half a glass of, but something prompts him to at least try. You miss one-percent of the shots you never take, and while it’s a phrase commonly used by his father... It seems fitting at this moment. “… let me take you to dinner. I’ll show you.”

There it is. The request after work, to which has your cheeks flushing hot and there’s a sigh leaving your lips. “I just told you, I don’t fraternize with patrons.”

“What about friends?”

“We’re not friends. Y-“

“Yet.”

His confidence has you pausing as he interrupts you, to which a chuckle escapes your full lips as you shake your head. Of course there was nothing that said you couldn’t hang with friends… but Johnny seemed convinced. “You know nothing about me.”

“… yet.” Johnny continues, and there’s that perfect smile on his lips again you swear could cause a car accident. “…. I want to, though. When do you work?”

“Johnny, I cannot tell you my schedule.”

This time he laughs, a melodic way, calming and familiar, and there’s another eye roll that leaves you, but at least it’s more playful this time.

It seems his father has poor timing, finally done hanging with an old college buddy to start making his way back over… and you move to sit properly to head off, but Johnny clearly has other plans.“You didn’t answer me.” He murmurs, that grin ever so present.

“And I won’t. You think I’ll just give it to you?” You respond with a quirk of your brow, and his tongue finds his cheek. His eyes sparkle with a proposal of a challenge, and you can see before you realize what’s happening. Johnny’s father comes up seemingly five pounds lighter and a pep in his step. He mumbles something as he retrieves a different club from his own cart.

“What did you kids get up to?” He finally asks, dark eyes darting back between you and his son in curiosity. You open your mouth to start, but Johnny gets to it first.

“I was just… telling our lovely cart attendant how much I loved the sport and was planning to come back tomorrow. Maybe even more often.” He says, almost casually, but as he gives you a brief gaze, you can see the way his eyes sparkle.

You’d say you didn’t have a shiver down your spine. You’d be lying.

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