#he is also a singer just...throwing that out there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

babyyhoneyyy · 2 days

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⋆.˚✮ 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑 ✮˚.⋆ - One Shot [h.s]

Storyline: After concluding a public relationship on unfavorable terms, singer Madison Moore decides to sever all ties with her boyfriend. However, a year after their separation, she crosses paths with him again at an awards ceremony, where he makes his entrance accompanied by his new girlfriend – the same one Madison once suspected of cheating on her. Nevertheless, she no longer possesses the same docile and soft personality she used to have and when she realizes her ex is attempting to approach her, she chooses to immerse herself in a casual conversation, coincidentally encountering her primary rival in the music industry, Harry Styles. Word count: +9k Smut: 🔞

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Diamonds sparkle around my neck, while pearls delicately rest on my ears. A charming set of jewelry has been carefully chosen for the evening, creating a perfect combination with the black dress I selected for the red carpet.

The fabric hugs my figure precisely, displaying a dark yet radiant shade that reflects tiny glints under the light. The standout features are its pronounced V-neck and the leg slit, adding a revealing touch to the ensemble. My hair complements the look with a lace-up that falls down my back, leaving my forehead exposed.

I glance once again at the small clock showing the time through the mirror's reflection. It's nine fifteen, and there are just a few minutes left until the rest of the team arrives, and we all head to tonight's location in the van.

I close my eyes for a brief moment, letting them open again as my reflection appears before me. In another moment, the red lips might have seemed excessive, but tonight they were more than appropriate if I aimed to make an impact. A long-awaited display of recognition, only possible with suggestive clothing and a mischievous look.

I knew these tricks well; I had been using them for a few months and had become almost an expert. However, I couldn't really complain; they provided me with confidence and a sense of control, as only I knew how far to go and how much to reveal.

I hear my nickname being called by my manager, beckoning me from the other side of the door, signaling that the moment has arrived.

I let out a final sigh, giving one last glance at my reflection in the mirror, and with a small affirmative gesture, I make my way to the door. I unlock the latch and move down the hallway.

"How do I look?" I ask once I see my entire team getting ready to leave my apartment. Their gazes immediately shift to my face and gradually descend to my outfit, creating a subtle interplay between my face and figure in a silence that was beginning to feel almost unsettling.

Then, Allyson, my best friend and the person who would also accompany me to the gala, more at my request, approached me, dropping her hands onto my shoulders and holding me lightly while allowing a cheeky gaze to traverse my body once again.

"Incredibly hot," she replied with a side smile. If I didn't know her better, I would even say she was flirting with me.

"You look like a freaking superstar," Sandy, my agent, joined by my side, commented with a radiant smile that I didn't hesitate to reciprocate.

"A very sexy one," added Allyson.

"Seems like she got the memo," I responded to Sandy, throwing a glance at my friend while I simply watched their interaction with amusement.

"Time's running out. People are already asking if you'll show up, Maddy". I hear the voice of one of the technicians, prompting my manager, my best friend, and me to hurry and exit immediately.

I feel a slight tug on my arm, causing me to turn my head back. I observe Sandy, who looks at me with her typical observant and serene expression before any event, always trying to convey the same message to me.

"You're going to fuck everyone tonight". A smile escapes me due to her choice of words, as I playfully nod, and she takes my arm, finally allowing us to exit the apartment.

The noise of the city intensified as we navigated its streets. The neon signs became more prominent, and some cars honked their horns. Although I would have enjoyed observing the characteristic brightness of Hollywood, the driver's announcement that we had arrived only made my heart beat faster. The once bustling atmosphere provided by the streets was now fueled by fans waiting outside the venue.

The van's polarized windows prevented them from seeing me from the inside, but somehow, magically, some people had already started chanting my name. A smile spread across my face, feeling more confident as we headed towards the location predetermined by the team. I observed the various faces approaching the van, trying unsuccessfully to see beyond, but still shouting random names until they landed on the right one.

I checked my small bag, pulled out my mirror, and refreshed my lips with the lipstick I had specifically chosen for tonight. I took a deep breath a couple of times, practicing a breathing technique I had been taught since my early days in the industry, trying to focus on all the positive things that had happened up to that point. I was about to participate in one of the highlights of my career, not just as a guest but practically as the potential winner and the main star of the night. I was at the top, and no one could stop me.

My nod was enough for the back door to open, allowing my heel to finally touch the red carpet. The noise intensified, ringing loudly in my ears as the choruses of my name created a buzz around me. Camera flashes accompanied my descent as I tilted my head slightly to mark my steps on the pavement.

I stood in the center of the carpet, striking various poses for the photographers, keeping my face with a serene expression, and, on some occasions, with a smile. I began to move away as the pleading shouts for me to stay faded away. Allyson gently took my arm, occasionally smiling at the paparazzi still trying to get our attention as we entered the venue, followed by my team.

As we made our way through the backstage hallways, I could hear the voices of the presenters. I watched different technicians move around us, greeting me as they recognized me. Some even asked me to take a photo, a request to which I gladly agreed.

My heels lost prominence as we approached, overshadowed by the buzz of the show taking place in the main hall.

"Maddy," I hear Sandy's voice behind me, taking a moment to address me while she seems to be immersed in a phone conversation. "You should start getting ready," she informs me.

"Of course" I reply, making her nod before she returns to her phone call. I glance at my best friend, who has let go of my arm and looks at me with a pout. We both knew that her seat was reserved at the assigned table inside the hall, and I had to head to the dressing rooms to change.

"At least you'll wait for me next to Shawn Mendes" I mention, giving her a playful nudge as she regains a smile.

"You're absolutely right," she replies. A smile lights up her face, and before I can leave, she takes my hand, drawing my attention again. Ally is not known for being an especially emotional person; in fact, I used to surpass her in that aspect. However, lately, her emotions have started to emerge, which is saying a lot considering I've known her for more than half of my life. The expression she wears right now is more than enough to make my heart swell. A tenderness that adds sweetness to our friendship and makes me feel grateful for it every day.

"You're going to do wonderfully, although you already know it," she says, gently squeezing my hand. I feel the excitement rise through my body, finally manifesting in the growing moisture in my eyes. I blink a bit as I look up, preventing the tears from actually coming out. "I love you, Maddy. Good luck".

Oh, dear, I hate getting so emotional to the point of crying in these situations.

Unable to contain myself, I move closer to her, releasing our hand grip and enveloping her in an affectionate hug. Finally, I pull away and nod.

"I love you too, thank you". I reply, finally letting her go to continue her way into the hall, where the noise returns once the door leading directly to the entrance opens.

Again, the sound of my heels echoed on the floor, this time as I headed towards the path that led to the dressing rooms. As I advanced, some technicians greeted me until I reached the door with a star bearing my name. Under my hand on the lock, turning the knob as the dressing room materialized in front of me.

Immediately, I was enveloped by the scent of vanilla. Warm lights illuminated the room, matching the furniture in beige tones, including a sofa, a dressing table, and a small table with dried fruits, fresh ones, and bottles of water.

However, my attention focused on the rack beside the furniture. I approached and took off the cover that was suspended on a hook. I placed it on the chair, spreading it out as I unzipped the garment bag, finally revealing the outfit I would wear that night.

My performance would be marked by a yellow ensemble that had been tailored for me some time ago. It consisted of a ruffled top and a matching skirt, providing additional volume to my figure. Although it exposed my abdomen, allowing me the flexibility to dance and move freely on stage thanks to the small shorts I wore under the skirt.

It was a beautiful and practical outfit. It had been in my closet for a long time, and this was the perfect occasion to wear it.

I placed my belongings on the dressing table and secured the dressing room door for more privacy. Dressing was straightforward; however, removing the dress presented some difficulty. Nevertheless, I finally managed to replace it on the dress stand and hang it on the rack.

I turned towards the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, allowing my image to be seen from head to toe, highlighting the combination of yellow that enhances my skin tone and subtly adds volume.

I heard a tapping on the door, and I approached to open it, allowing Sandy's figure to enter the dressing room. I didn't stand up to show her my outfit, as she had witnessed the tailoring process from the beginning. Instead, I sit at the vanity and pull out the makeup I had brought for touch-ups, quickly changing the shade of my lipstick so I can blend in with my outfit and also to mattify my face with powder.

I felt calm until that moment, mentally reviewing the choreographies I would perform. However, when my nickname came out of my manager's lips, I immediately looked at her. I knew Sandy long enough, from my beginnings in this industry, and I could already discern precisely when something was not right.

"What happened?" I immediately ask, although silence persists from Sandy's side. She has chosen to sit on the couch, watching me through the mirror. "Sandy, tell me now, you're making me nervous". I say.

I see a sigh escape her lips as she nods towards me and says, "It's about your performance".

My breathing starts to become uneven as infinite possibilities take shape before me. I remain calmly silent for a moment until I decide to respond.

"Okay..." I affirm, maintaining composure regarding the situation, and wait to get more details. "What happened with that?"

"They said we have to cut it down," she replies at the same time my confusion arises. This time, Sandy doesn't wait for me to ask additional questions and proceeds to explain, "Now, you'll only have time for one song, then you'll have to leave the stage to make way for the next artist".

My eyes narrow in her direction, I turn my back to her, and lean on the back of my seat at the dressing table.

What exactly did she mean by that?

"Next artist?" I ask still confused. "I thought I was the main performance".

"That's right," she replies. "But, apparently, there was a sudden change of plans because they need to add someone else in that slot".

I continue to watch her attentively, examining each of her gestures. She clearly seems nervous, but I feel like she's hiding something more.

"Who?" I venture to ask. The question is enough for Sandy to shake her head repeatedly and get up from her seat on the couch. I watch as she starts pacing around the dressing room, holding her phone and typing at the same time. I call her again, but her response is limited to giving me a look and remaining silent. "Sandy, I was promised a full performance. I've practiced for months to occupy an entire slot, not to be limited to just a few minutes. At the very least, I deserve to know who it is".

Sandy's eyebrows furrow, showing an internal struggle to reveal the truth. Finally, after a sigh that reflects her unease, she utters the name of the responsible party: "It's Harry Styles".

Of all people in this damn industry.

I sigh with frustration and look at myself again in the dressing room mirror. The light illuminates the space, covering my entire face and clearly reflecting my furrowed brow and a pout beginning to form on my lips.

What was originally going to be a complete performance of about ten minutes will now be reduced to only four, with just enough time to present my latest single.

I was upset, or rather, furious. I had dedicated months of effort and rehearsals to this, preparing to occupy an entire slot where I would not only present one but two songs, each with its own set design and choreography. And now, all that work was going to be wasted by having to involuntarily share the spotlight with someone else.

And worst of all, that someone else turned out to be him.

Harry embodied all the negative aspects of my career, being my number one rival since my position began to rise rapidly. There was a time when I considered that his growing popularity along with mine could be seen as a positive boost for my career, but it turned out to be the opposite when I realized he saw it as competition.

At one point, he snatched a venue where I was supposed to give a show. I tried to communicate with his team at that time and eventually with him, thinking it was a mistake. However, when I received a small note on my phone with a headline showing him laughing at the situation and even making sarcastic references to my loss in the middle of his own show, I decided that things needed to change in that regard.

I could tolerate many things, but I wouldn't allow him and his actions to leave my fans and me hanging.

"I'm really sorry, Maddy. I did my best, but they insisted on sharing the space". I hear Sandy's words, feeling her closer and visualizing her behind me, leaning on the chair that still supports my body.

I nod finally, aware that the issue was not in her hands to resolve, as it transcended our team.

I hear three knocks on the door, announcing that it was time to go. I check myself once again, making sure my makeup is still intact, and rise from my seat, also adjusting my skirt.

"Fuck them all. Let's go".

I hear Sandy's laughter beside me, leading the way as the dressing room door opens, allowing me to re-enter the bright light of the hallways. Most of my team is waiting for me. I greet the dancers who will accompany me with a smile and join them as applause fills the space. My team makes the moment more lively, allowing us to perform a small ritual that has become a tradition for us before each performance. We join our hands and raise them with cheers of excitement.

This is how I finally position myself behind the stage, gaining confidence as I turn my back to the audience. With my right hand, I hold the microphone and squeeze it tightly at least three times, inhaling air as I adjust my breathing.

Until I see the stage light up with blue lights, I close my eyes and let the music fill my ears, a chorus of screams chanting my name initiating my performance.

The performance unfolds exceptionally. The dancers beside me don't hesitate to execute strength in their steps, and I, in turn, accompany them beyond necessity. I put into practice all the breathing exercises, holding the high notes perfectly. All the effort is reflected in the applause and screams around me when the music stops and the lights intensify the drama.

I stayed on stage for an additional time, under everyone's gaze, waiting for the team's signal to descend from the platform. I raise my hand and give a small wave to everyone, receiving warm smiles, many of them from faces familiar to me in the industry.

The cue comes through my in-ear monitors, and with the dim lighting present, I descend from the stage at the back.

My team welcomes me with hugs and some applause as we return to the backstage. However, I sense the music resurfacing once again with a sound of trumpets that extends throughout the environment, triggering my inevitable curiosity.

I turn slightly backward, watching the bright light flooding the stage again in a warm tone, this time accompanied by a tall man who exhibits a unique presence that I have had the chance to witness on a few occasions, and he wears a suit that fits perfectly to his body, made of a fabric that seems to be leather.

I make a small grimace as I see him confidently traverse the stage, as if I had never appeared in this one, looking at the people as his own and quickly winning them over with his movements. The audience erupts in cheers when he drops what appears to be a green feather boa, revealing his bare torso, covered only by his leather jacket.

Not wanting to see any more, I turn around and head back to my dressing room, ready to change my clothes and head this time to the new place where the after party would take place.

I opted for a dress in a celestial shade and also fitted to my body, although the fabrics of this one had a subtle dewy effect that I loved.

As I enter the new lounge, I am greeted by upbeat music from a DJ and the dark lights in shades of red and blue become familiar with my dress. I sense greetings from a few industry acquaintances before finally finding my best friend in the crowd. Near a table at the bar, Ally was actively engaged in a conversation with the guy we once talked about, and then I began to doubt whether I should interrupt.

My lips concealed to prevent my smile from being too evident as I approached, but my gaze shifted, and immediately, I regretted it when I felt my steps instinctively stop.

A few feet away, I spotted Joe with his distinctive brown hair, recognizable to me. However, that wasn't all; next to him, a young blonde placed her hand on his shoulder, carelessly approaching his face while smiling at him.

At that moment, I couldn't pinpoint exactly the feeling I was experiencing, except for the paralysis of my heart that prompted me to continue watching their interaction. I mean, it wasn't common to meet my worst ex again, let alone witness his audacity in introducing the woman I discovered was his lover for much of our relationship.

I felt like I could vomit at any moment, and everything seemed to get worse when I sensed that Joe's gaze shifted from the girl beside him to me.

I felt the world crumbling around me, forcing me to blink and look away, although it was already too late when, from the corner of my eye, I saw his figure starting to approach.

Although Ally was still immersed in her conversation with Shawn, I no longer cared about interrupting them. But they were both far enough away that trying to get there in a hurry would be a hopeless endeavor.

So my only option was to turn around and head back to the dressing rooms, which ended only in colliding with another body in the attempt.

"Have you gotten lost all the way to your table now?" I hear Harry's characteristic husky voice, revealing his presence in front of me with a completely revamped outfit, still in dark tones, wearing a suit that seemed to be crafted from a wool-like fabric, though I couldn't pinpoint it due to the dim lighting. What was completely visible was his torso, now covered by a bividi.

A sigh escapes me. This was the last thing I needed.

"I forgot something in my dressing room," I reply.

"Still your dressing room?" he asks mockingly, causing a furrow in my eyebrows. "I thought once your performance was over, your name simply vanished from that door".

"I don't know, what do you think?" I respond sarcastically, hearing his laughter, knowing he expected me to reply with the same tone. "Did your name already vanish?"

"What do you think?" he replies. I roll my eyes, confident that no one would really see my expression due to the lively atmosphere around us. However, I decide to remain subtly cautious and maintain a falsely enthusiastic expression before smiling at him.

"I don't have time for this, Harry. Excuse me". I mutter under my breath, looking down, instantly erasing my smile, and waiting for his body to give me the pass.

Instead, Harry chooses to inquire, "Are you sure?" leaving me again with an inevitable furrowed brow as I realize he's not moving. "Because I see your ex-boyfriend over there with an attractive blonde a few meters from us," he states. Once again, I feel my heart freeze, and a dry cough resonates in my throat. Uncomfortable, I avert my gaze carefully, avoiding meeting anyone's eyes, until the husky voice manifests once again, but this time a bit closer. "And, in case you've forgotten, the dressing rooms are in the opposite direction".

Damn.

"Of course, I remember," I immediately respond, turning my head to address him directly, allowing him to step back a bit as he notices our proximity due to my movement, though I, for my part, don't even react. "I was going to the bathroom first, and then to my dressing room, that's what I meant".

"Sure". he murmurs with another smile. He doesn't hesitate to express his intention to tease me in front of me. His audacity has persisted since I've known him, and the incendiary reaction every time we cross paths only intensifies over time, becoming increasingly unbearable.

I felt a sense of suffocation every time I encountered him. I often watched him from a distance, displaying evident kindness to the public, being friendly, joking, and laughing, letting his dimples adorn his face. Despite all the charming image he projected around him, my perspective on him remained unchanged.

Every close encounter with Harry carried the accumulated tension throughout our career. The thirst for competition lingered silently as we exchanged glances at various events, and at times, even shared cheeky smiles that revealed our triumph when one of us won in our confrontations.

And, on this occasion, that's precisely what he was taking care of.

"Why don't you let me buy you a drink?" he suddenly asks, causing surprise and confusion on my face. I wait a few seconds before he continues, "As a way to congratulate you on your performance".

And there it was. It wasn't a friendly invitation but a celebration of his own triumph.

I feel discomfort rise on my cheeks, turning them reddish and experiencing the spreading warmth in me.

"Do you mean the performance you were about to steal from me?" I respond inquisitively.

"Did I?" he asks, feigning confusion in his words as his eyebrows tilt in sarcasm and his green eyes narrow.

I take the opportunity to get a bit closer to him, leaving us almost at the same distance as he once chose to move away. However, this time, he chooses to remain motionless in his place, making our height difference more evident, though my response is equally close.

"I know perfectly well that all of that was your fault," I murmur, making sure my words stay between us two. His eyebrows slightly arch as he continues to look at me, and I interpret it as a sign to continue, "It was a solo performance, and obviously, you couldn't stand not being the center of attention tonight".

Harry chooses to remain silent, studying my face carefully. I interpret his silence as confirmation, perhaps even something he was ashamed to admit aloud, and rightfully so, because that was what I really expected.

"You seem pretty sure," he finally responds, dropping his head to one side. "Let me discuss it with liquor on me".

"No way". I immediately deny.

"Your ex is still chasing you," he murmurs once again close to me.

I lower my gaze and inhale deeply.

There was no alternative. Either I faced Harry's words, or I faced Joe. One seemed to be worse than the other, although I couldn't decide which was which; but my instinct only urged me to go along with his proposition, and that's exactly what I did.

"Just one," I reply, reaching a conclusion. "No more".

Immediately, a dimple forms on his face, and an almost malicious look accompanies it. Whether I regretted it or not, I had already accepted, and he wouldn't allow me to truly retract.

Finally, this seemed to be my destiny for the night.

"Of course".

Harry turns, indicating for me to follow as the music around us increases as we approach the bar table. Lights flash in a variety of colors, now immersed in a dark violet tone. I grip my small purse firmly as bumps affect my body due to the dancing crowd, possibly drunk, without realizing or anticipating the space they occupy.

I don't pay much attention as I return my gaze forward, realizing that the bar atmosphere is left behind as we move forward.

I furrow my brow and try to match my pace with Harry's, striving to find an explanation. However, he keeps moving with determination and doesn't even turn around, knowing I'm still following him.

I identify the nearest exit door and decide to stop him at that moment. I pull his arm and hold it close to me, causing his pace to halt, and he finally turns to look at me.

"Where are we heading?" I inquire.

"I'll buy you a drink," he simply responds with a shrug, implying that the answer should be obvious.

"But I thought—" my words are interrupted by a sidelong gesture from him as he answers: "Those there aren't good".

My eyes narrow in suspicion. "Did you even try them?" I ask.

"I heard some comments," he says, shrugging his shoulders again.

Harry doesn't wait for me to say more and takes advantage of the grip I still have on his arm to grab my wrist, pulling my body slightly to keep walking.

The door of the lounge is opened by the security personnel guarding it, and the night breeze intensifies around me, leaving the noise of the music behind.

Once the doors close, I can appreciate the difference between the white lights coming from one of the main parking lots of the venue and the various luxury cars parked all over the place. Harry leads us to one of them, specifically a Range Rover that is slightly separated from the other cars. His hand releases my wrist and goes in the opposite direction of the car, letting me pass alone to the other side. I stay there for a few seconds, watching his interaction with the driver until he returns to my side, opens the back door, and lets me go first. I express a "thank you" in response and get into the car.

The journey turned uncomfortably silent, allowing me to settle at one end of the fine leather seat as I watched the city streets materialize around us through the polarized windows. My grip on my bag occasionally intensified, fidgeting with my fingers in an attempt to calm my nervousness.

The moment inside the lounge replayed in my mind, with Joe's brown eyes fixed on me, probably witnessing my exit with Harry. However, all the concern faded, carried away by the same tide to which I was willingly submitting. It's at that moment I hear my companion's voice, alerting me that we have arrived.

Harry steps out of the car first, unexpectedly assuming the role of a chauffeur as he opens the door and takes my hand while helping me descend. I feel his warm touch, contrasting with the multiple rings adorning his fingers. A chill runs down my spine, accentuated by the surrounding breeze.

The environment seems colder than usual, permeated by the salty aroma, and the presence of several yachts parked around the area makes it even more apparent. I furrow my brow, directing my gaze to the man beside me, who seems immune to my gesture and keeps his eyes straight ahead.

What the hell am I doing here?

"Where are we?" I inquire. More out of the need to know, I do it with the desire to get a genuine explanation from him.

It's only then that Harry turns his gaze back to me, revealing a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"I thought it was obvious by the yachts around us," he replies. At that moment, his figure starts to move, and I realize the car has withdrawn. The cool breeze surrounds us as I shift my attention to the majestic yachts practically next to me. One more luxurious than the other, with a shiny appearance, but this only serves to increase my confusion.

"I mean," I begin to say as I follow him down the wooden path, causing my heels to resonate more loudly. "I know where we are, but why are we here?"

Harry instinctively turns, throwing me a brief look before responding, "Because I owe you a drink". My gaze intensely connects with his, and I notice one of his dimples forming again due to his smirk. "What?"

"This is not a bar," I reply, pointing out the obvious at that moment. Our steps are the only response I continue to receive until, after what seems like a few minutes of walking, we stop in front of a particular yacht.

It was almost as extensive as the others, presenting itself with at least three sections from this perspective, equally white and gleaming, illuminated from the outside and showing only a glimpse of its interior. However, this one stood out even more among all, displaying the initials "HS" on the front, which leads me to connect the dots and take a closer look at the owner that I now recognize.

"What better than having a drink in the middle of the ocean, don't you think?"

For some reason, I choose silence as a response and wait for Harry, once again, to help me climb the stairs leading inside the yacht.

Inside, the opulence becomes even more evident. The bow presents itself as an illuminated catwalk, even equipped with spacious sofas for comfort. The interior looks almost like a small apartment, also furnished, with a table and chairs for any meal one might want to enjoy. A carpet covers the entire floor, softening the sound of my heels, while some ornaments decorate the space, highlighting the golden details around.

"Make yourself at home," I suddenly hear Harry say from behind, taking me by surprise. I turn my head instantly, slightly bumping into his face, as I see him enter the space. Finally, I notice that in the background, behind a partition, there is a wide stool that seems to be part of the kitchen and, in turn, the bar with a variety of drinks on display welcomes my presence. Harry's body is disappearing into that area, blending in and leaving me alone at the entrance.

A sigh escapes my lips as I sink into the spacious sofa. I check my bag, opening it to take out my phone and heading straight to Ally's contact. The call doesn't ring until the third tone, by which time I already hear the music hitting my speakers, forcing me to move the phone slightly away from my ear.

"Maddy?" I finally hear my friend say. "Where the hell are you?"

"I'm fine, calm down," I reply. "I came with a— Um," at that moment, I didn't know what to say. I had called to assure her that I was okay, but I hadn't considered the most obvious: what would I tell her if she asked what I was doing? I couldn't just spill the situation, as that would prolong the conversation, and the last thing I wanted was for Harry to hear all the details as if it were a gossip show. I quickly think of a response before Ally starts to suspect. "With a friend I met backstage, and we came for a drink at a... small nearby bar so no one can make assumptions," I conclude. I bite my lower lip as I hear Ally's response materialize on the other side of the line.

"Do I know that friend?"

"Uh," I hesitate for a moment before responding, genuinely trying to stop lying altogether. So I say, "Yes, probably". But before she can ask more questions, I interrupt her. "I'll tell you later".

"That's fine," she replies. I hear the music around her slightly fading, suggesting that she's stepping aside to get more privacy. "But is he at least hot?" she asks. And I have no idea what to answer.

I swallow as I look back into the yacht, watching Harry's broad back and curls from a distance. Even meters away, he appears unperturbed, and curiosity fills my instincts again. I hide my lips and look straight ahead.

"A bit," I reply.

"Alright," she responds. "Let me know if you need me to pick you up or something, I'm here for you".

"I know, there's no need to worry," I reply. "Are you going back with Robert?" I ask, knowing that now only my driver remains to ensure she gets to her own apartment safely.

"Well..." I hear a small laugh from her, and my eyebrows raise as I wait for her response. "I think I'm heading somewhere else too".

"Oh..." A shared laughter joins the conversation. "Okay... I understand," I nod through the call. "I'll wait for the details".

"I'll be waiting for yours too. Goodbye," I hear her slightly dragging the words, so I simply respond with a goodbye and hang up.

It seems I wasn't the only one who had an unexpected encounter.

A few minutes passed as I dedicated myself to look around, putting my phone back in my bag. At that moment, I hear the partition opening, with a subtle but attention-catching sound making my head turn in its direction.

Then, I see Harry holding two glasses in his hands, bringing one towards me and keeping the other.

The liquor has a hue similar to pink, sharpening my curiosity as I bring it to my lips. The sip results in a bittersweet taste, immediately recognizing the mix of vodka and strawberry.

"It's really good, thank you," I comment as I continue to feel the subtle sweetness on my lips. I sense the sofa slightly sinking under the weight of someone else a few meters away, as if they were trying to maintain a distance. Harry leaves his drink on the table in front of us, watching me as I continue to drink.

It truly was delicious, but I no longer knew what else to say besides continuing to sip. So, I decided that the moment might be more bearable if I introduced some alcohol into my system. That would be the only way to stop thinking about the look Harry was giving me at that moment.

"Now we can address what you mentioned in that room," I hear his rough voice through my ears, awakening any instinct as I pay attention. "You seemed very confident in stating that I tried to steal your presentation".

"Wasn't that the case?" I inquire in response, finally placing my glass with the drink less than halfway on the table, right next to his. "It doesn't make sense for you to deny it. And neither do I have any point in remembering it". I tell him. A silence hangs between us, leaving his response in the void as an idea forms in my mind. At this point, the liquor has started to take effect, and although I'm not seeing blurry nor unconscious by any means, my filter disappears. And I really have no objections to that, as it is exactly what I wanted.

"I propose something," I start, capturing his attention with a steady gaze into his green eyes, which seem filled with curiosity, not really anticipating what I'm about to say. "For tonight, I'll leave all that behind, and you won't mention it with the intention of annoying me."

"Do I do it to annoying you?" he asks, laughing, one that highlights his dimples again as he shakes his head expressively and approaches the table to reach for his glass.

"You really have difficulty recognizing what you do, don't you?" I inquire, tilting my head to the right.

"That's all you assume," he responds.

"All you don't admit," I retort.

"Now you're calling me a liar," he comments after taking another sip of his drink. His words are laced with more sarcasm than usual, and his cheeky smile becomes more evident. "After you've had a drink, that's a bit disrespectful".

"Tell me a truth," I suddenly say, catching him completely off guard for a moment. His eyes meet mine directly, squinting slightly and raising his chin a bit. I watch as his tongue passes over his lips, moistening them and giving them a natural shine, before he answers: "I watched your performance".

"Now, a lie,"

A smirk begins to form on him, and then he replies, "I watched your performance".

Unexpectedly, a smile of my own appears on my face.

"I think it's your turn now," he tells me. I nod my head and inhale a bit of air before settling into my seat, allowing my dress to rise slightly and reveal more of my thigh. I don't bother to fix it, noticing Harry's gaze descending before realizing that I'm watching him.

And then another idea crosses my mind.

"Let's make this more interesting," I propose. "The loser will take off an item of clothing".

Harry's eyebrows raise in surprise, but quickly lower, leaving his expression showing only curiosity.

"Are you sure?" he questions.

"Of course," I reply without hesitation, reaffirming my confidence.

Harry responds with a small sigh, settling into the sofa, letting his body sink a bit more into it. He adopts a pose by resting his arm on the backrest and slightly opening his legs for comfort. In the whole process, I can't help but observe him.

"I didn't know that bold side of you, Maddy," he suddenly mentions my nickname, leaving me with a slight frown, wondering how he knew. "Who would've thought".

"On the contrary, I feel like I know a lot about you," I reply in a lower tone.

"Oh, really?" he asks, matching my tone. A playful smile forms on my face as I nod.

"Yes," I start, leaning slightly closer to him. My knees press into the sofa, and my hands sink into it as I slowly approach his body in a crawling position. I focus solely on following Harry's eyes, which darken, taking on the same tone as the night that envelops us, abandoning the green they briefly exhibited. I stop at the level of his knees, not directly colliding with them, and then I also rest my arm on the back of the sofa.

"You're narcissistic," I murmur, allowing silence to settle between us as my words hang in the air. "You enjoy being the center of attention, and when someone doesn't give it to you, you seek it at all costs," I continue. "That's why you brought me here. You can't stand that I won't surrender to you for real".

Silence settles between us again, but this time I feel the atmosphere becoming denser. Despite the breeze, I experience how heat floods my body, reddening my cheeks and forcing the opening of my lips to facilitate the circulation of oxygen. As for Harry, watching each of my movements with his eyes, which still retain their dark color, observing me with precision.

His lips receive another moistening from his tongue before he responds: "Aren't you already doing it?" he asks, his voice deeper than usual.

"You lost," I retort. A look of fake disappointment forms on my face, followed by a smile that I can't hide. "You know what that means".

Harry doesn't say anything for a few more seconds, until I finally notice one of his dimples returning on his cheek as he lowers his gaze. And with a final nod, he replies, "If you insist".

The minutes keep ticking away, and the atmosphere becomes hotter as Harry's clothes disappear. I always trusted my statements, no matter the question, and thanks to my certainty in words, Harry accepted his defeat in most of the rounds.

However, things took a turn; my glass was already empty, and my embarrassment vanished with it. This time, I was more than obvious, allowing the only garment that played against me, my dress, to disappear from my body when I admitted defeat, leaving me in lingerie. Harry simply watches the moment as I stand up from the sofa to make it easier to remove my dress. My lace set is black, with small flowers adorning the edges.

I leave the dress on the sofa and approach to return to my place, but Harry's hand lands on my wrist, stopping me as I look at him.

My breathing starts to become irregular, accentuated by his touch that intensifies it. I watch as Harry rises from his seat, standing in front of me, highlighting once again our height difference, but closing the gap nonetheless. His cool chest impacts against mine, brushing against me in a contact I eagerly await. I feel anxious to experience more, and Harry seems to sense it, patiently waiting to take my neck with his palm, sliding his right thumb over my lips. In an instant, I part them slightly, allowing the gentle touch of his fingertip to meet my mouth and eventually take its place inside.

My lips wrap around his finger, caressing it with my tongue as a circular motion saturates it with saliva, all of this under Harry's watchful gaze from above.

And at that moment, when I feel I can no longer bear the pressure and try to move away to take the next step, Harry tightens his grip on my neck, placing his entire palm around it, leaving me immobile for a moment and allowing my breath to come out with slight difficulty through my mouth. I can feel my heart beating harder, and at this point, I have no doubts that he can hear it too. His palm raises my neck, placing his face inches from mine. My gaze lowers and rises in an expectant rhythm, watching his lips and returning to his eyes, a rhythm that keeps me restless, asking for more, craving more, and only calming when his face takes on the expression I desire. His gaze, changing in the darkness of the night, follows me, and my agony comes to an end when his lips meet mine.

A passionate, desperate, thirsty kiss fills me, complementing my body and intensifying my sensations. My hands become explorers, and he satisfies them as I touch his body, tracing his face, reaching his hair, pressing him more against me, if only it were possible.

Harry, for his part, releases his hold on my neck and descends down my body just as unrestrained, exploring every corner of my body with his touch. He moves across my back with intensity, brushing with delicacy and eliciting a moan from me during our kiss. His rings are still cold, becoming more evident as he descends, exerting pressure on my skin and possibly leaving marks due to their firmness. Although I wouldn't admit it out loud, I wished it to be so, especially on my buttocks, where his pinkie and ring fingers, adorned with his significant initial rings, exerted pressure.

The kiss becomes careless, causing us to separate slightly in search of air. Harry takes advantage of this to grab my hips, and in an unexpected move for me, he turns me, allowing my body to fall and press me forcefully against the table in front of us.

My face and palms are pressed against the glass, adjusting to the space, although I have no complaints about it. My senses intensify, perceiving Harry's body behind me with strength, and even more noticeably, his erection protruding from his boxers, pressing firmly against me.

My eyes begin to close, surrendering to the sensation even when my underwear remains a barrier between us. However, as seconds pass, desperation takes over me again; the dripping of my fluids only increases, and my hips begin to move as a signal. But Harry takes care of putting an end to it, pressing my hips once again and, this time, letting his palm strike forcefully on my buttock.

I can't contain a scream that escapes from me, while my hands desperately search for something to hold onto. I realize that the smoothness of the glass plays against me, and I can only try to hold on firmly to the table.

I feel the tingling on my skin, probably already reddened, but it is soothed by Harry's palm, which moves gently around, in a dangerous massage that approaches and moves away from the area that needs it the most. His fingers intertwine with my underwear, slightly raising the fabric and allowing the breeze from the surroundings to reach that part. Another moan escapes from my lips, and I close my eyes, surrendering to the sensation.

"It looks so good on you," I hear his voice near my ear as he continues exploring the fabric, causing a shiver to run down my spine. "It's a shame that it's getting in the way right now".

It's at that moment when I hear the fabric's crunch, and my eyes open immediately. Harry doesn't give me time to react as I feel his erection finally pressing against me. Touching me, but this time without restrictions, he maintains an ascending and descending rhythm while moistening it with my own fluids. The sensation is pleasurable, so much so that my lips part more, and sounds of satisfaction resonate throughout the bow.

My mind focuses exclusively on the sensation, paying attention to every movement, and I join in with my hips. Harry keeps his firm grip on them until, at one point, I feel him distant. I don't perceive his touch with mine, and a pout forms instantly on my lips. I turn slightly towards him and see that he has a condom package in his hands, already starting to open it.

My pout becomes more evident, emitting a sound that draws his attention back to my face. I know it's the right thing to do, and yet surprisingly I find myself feeling disappointed by this when I should be grateful; but considering that I am free from any disease, perhaps I expect the same from him.

Harry watches me for a few seconds before lowering the condom, half-open, and looking at me attentively.

"I have no doubt that you're safe, but are you taking care of yourself?" he asks. My heart starts to beat rapidly as I nod immediately.

"Should I doubt that you're safe too?" I inquire in response, just to be reasonably sure.

"I can show you my certificate another day if you wish," he says, showing a serious expression that indicates his proposition is genuine. A smile escapes from me.

"Do you come with a pedigree?" I jokingly ask. Then his gaze changes once again, observing me with darkened eyes.

And I feel Harry's response materialize in a smack that elicits a moan of pain and pleasure from me.

"Damn," I mutter through gritted teeth.

"Very funny," he replies in turn.

The moment is brief, with his anger disappearing or maybe intensifying when the first penetration takes place.

A moan escapes from me, intensifying as the thrusts become more frequent. Harry shows no mercy, much less moderates his strokes. He grips my hip with one hand while the other presses into my lower back, pushing me harder against the table with each thrust and leaving me adrift with each impact.

"Fuck, Maddy," his simple voice, mentioning my nickname again, provokes a sigh that escapes my lips, being carried away by his movement. "You feel so good".

My eyes struggle to stay open, wishing to truly absorb the moment in all my senses but becoming increasingly difficult as the intensity builds.

The upper part of my underwear still rested on me, but now the fabric becomes uncomfortable as my body craves the slightest freshness to contrast with the moment. Apparently, I wasn't the only one seeking it, as Harry, as if reading my thoughts, shifts the hand that was on my back to my bra, and in a swift motion, unclasps it, freeing my body.

I feel his torso press against my now exposed back, lifting me slightly and allowing his hand to fit perfectly on my bare chest. I bite my lower lip once again with such force that it anticipates the possibility of blood in my taste.

Harry's caress feels soft on my skin, creating an absolute contrast with his movements inside me. Occasionally, his roughness manifests fully when he lightly squeezes my nipples, making the sounds coming out of my mouth more pronounced as he advances.

"Do you want to tease me again?" his voice emerges as I drop the question and focus on the sensation. "Come on, pretty girl, talk to me," he insists once more, trying to provoke a response. I bite my lip, holding back a smile, aware that I am getting into a small dangerous game at that moment.

Harry's grip intensifies, pressing against my skin, probably realizing the dynamic that was unfolding.

"Or do you prefer me to call you a slut?" the simple suggestion makes my back arch, revealing my immediate response, and I hear a husky laugh from his part. "Is that what you are? A little slut who enjoys my cock filling you?" another moan from me manifests in the space, representing my own thoughts.

"Does it feel good, huh?" Too good, I wanted to respond, but once again, I chose to hide my lips between my teeth. Then, I feel my hair being pulled sharply, lifting my body from the table and leaving me in an arched position. My buttocks rise, and the sound of the collision of our skins becomes more evident.

"I bet that idiot you had as an ex didn't even get close to this," I hear him say, and actually, far from worrying about the mention of my ex, the unspoken response to his statement is more than evident in my body.

Harry personified desire in its purest form, and the longing for more became evident in each of our encounters. I hadn't realized this until this moment when I felt him hitting inside me, holding me firmly, talking dirty to me. This was all I needed.

I hear Harry's breath in my ear, intense enough to reverberate in my senses and take me to experience a deeper level than I thought I could reach in my whole body. The adrenaline keeps rising in me, reflected by the thin layer of sweat on my skin, completely undoing the smoothing I once had.

My hands, full of desperation, try to move backward in an attempt for contact. However, Harry's firm grip on me makes this almost impossible; daring to move on my own would mean losing balance completely.

I have no sense of how much time has passed, with the only sound being the echo of my moans mixed with his in the space, when I feel everything come to a complete stop. I turn my head towards him, seeking his gaze and finding it with an amused expression that he doesn't even try to hide.

"Keep going," I demand in a whimper, but Harry ignores my words, still watching me and still inside me. "Damn it, Harry, continue," I express this time with annoyance. For his part, Harry tilts his head to the side, looking at me expectantly.

"Not even a please?" he asks.

A sigh escapes from me. I don't hesitate to do it. Honestly, at this moment, anything was valid for me; I just wanted to feel him again.

"Please, please," I murmur to him. The plea makes his eyes darken once again more than usual, and his gaze reflects the quickness of the change in his expression. "Continue, please".

I don't even finish speaking when Harry pushes his cock once again into me, with a speed that equals or surpasses the previous one. My grip tightens on the table, holding on with strength and trying to endure as much as I could.

"Tell me a truth, Maddy," I hear him say in my ear. "Tell me how you feel. Tell me you need this as much as I do". His words express an assertion, being confident as always, and if I had been fully conscious, I would have laughed just to tease him. However, now I felt like I was levitating and was willing to follow every order he gave me just to keep feeling him.

It was surprising to admit that his effect really caused this, the nullification of my own reason, yielding to his, and letting myself be carried away by the waves of the same ocean we were in. That was Harry, the whirlpool I willingly submitted to, just to experience another taste.

At least, for this night.

"Tell me, or I'll stop". I hear his threatening voice, and before I can articulate a response, I feel the firm pressure of his hands on my hips, urging me once again.

"Holy shit," I manage to say, gripping the table tightly. My head tilts back, feeling his own chest behind me as he advances in his movements. I can't form a coherent sentence without being interrupted by the pleasant sensation. As his movement continues, I pray for him not to stop; therefore, his name escapes my lips, expressing a single plea that I hope satisfies him, although with Harry, we both know it will never be enough.

"Come on, pretty girl," he repeats that nickname that sends a shiver down my spine once again. "Tell me a truth or you'll lose again".

"It feels so good," I finally utter, albeit still with difficulty. "Don't you dare stop," I warn, hearing a low chuckle in response. "I'm so close".

"Come," he responds immediately, accelerating his pace inside me, causing my eyes to close. "Let me feel how you tighten around me".

"Come with me," I manage to say only.

"You don't have to ask me twice," I hear his response in my ear.

The intensification of his thrusts makes them more rhythmic, marking a strong beat that increases the collision between our naked bodies. My head continues arched backward, but this time it remains immobilized by his arm around my neck, holding firmly in the precise place. The pressure is strong enough to be felt, but still allows me to breathe without too much difficulty. However, this complicates as I feel my movement synchronizing with his, my hips coming to life on their own as I approach the peak of pleasure in my life.

Tears run down my cheeks, leaving a salty taste on my lips, inevitably absorbed while my mouth emits moans or seeks air. The walls of my pussy begin to contract, and I can feel the pulsations inside me from Harry's cock, indicating that he is as close as I am.

I couldn't help but wish that he would come before me, longing to experience his reactions firsthand. However, the inevitable happened.

I felt a sensation of warmth rising through my body, wrapped in an electricity that made me move more restlessly and carelessly. My moans became louder, and finally, I experienced the tension bursting around me. I was unable to feel anything other than my own release and the overwhelming sense of satisfaction that invaded me.

Harry's grip relaxes on my neck, releasing it and allowing my body to fall back onto the table. It is at that moment, when I finally find myself able to regain awareness of my surroundings, that I can feel Harry's body leaning against mine, embracing me gently with his posture and holding me with delicate gestures.

The synchronization of our own breaths takes at least a few minutes, during which we both maintain our positions and experience an immediate sense of relaxation that extends throughout our bodies.

The minutes seem to prolong, and fatigue envelops me, allowing me to perceive only the freshness of the night breeze as Harry pulls away. I feel his touch on my legs, wiping me with what seems to be paper and holding me to prevent me from falling. Finally, I let myself fall on the couch, backed by him, and let myself be carried away by exhaustion, while Harry's green eyes are the last thing I see before everything plunges into darkness.

The whisper of the sea and the movement of the waves wake me up, and I realize that the night has given way to the blue morning sky around the yacht.

My drowsy eyes struggle to accurately perceive the environment until I focus on the table in front of me, which seems to be located farther from its usual position, several meters away from the scattered chairs in the place.

Memories of the previous night assault me at once with this landscape, leading me to look up and meet the serene face of a sleeping Harry beneath me.

I contemplate some of his curls falling onto his forehead, while I realize that his face has small marks from my dark lipstick. A faint smile forms on my lips as I try to move in my position without waking him.

In my attempt, I look around again, noticing that my bag is also scattered on the floor and has started buzzing similar to my notifications, which doesn't cease.

My brow slightly furrows, trying to distance myself carefully from Harry once again until I finally manage to and take my bag in my hands, pulling out my phone.

The time is revealed to me, noticing that it might be due to the various notifications that were coming in. On the screen, I see messages from some friends, numerous missed calls from Ally and Sandy, and a last message from an unknown number.

I access the last message from Ally, finding her response that she is already home and noting a drastic change this morning, or more precisely, since dawn. Her messages started with capital letters and filled the chat with about twenty monosyllables, culminating in a final message begging me to explain what was happening.

I didn't fully understand until I decided to open the link she attached to the message. Then, a note from People magazine opens in my browser, with my profile face and the image of a smiling Harry next to me.

I close my eyes for a moment. I should have anticipated that this would happen.

Inevitably, I continue scrolling down the page, and a big headline appears, accompanied by more photos of me getting into his black car and disappearing with Harry, leaving no trace of us throughout the night.

«CAUGHT IN A SPECIAL NIGHT Has Madison Moore decided to leave behind the melancholic romance and opt for vibrant pop? Discover the latest details about the encounter between the star girl and none other than Harry Styles.»

Shit.

#harry styles fandom #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #one shot harry styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic recs #harry styles smutty fanfic #one shot smut #one shot

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bmpmp3 · 2 years

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sasuke ikesen needs a character song so i can make an amv of him to tsunagaru connect and an amv of rina lovelive to his hypothetical character song

#i think sasuke and rina are best friends. i think sasuke is her cool uncle #also i think like every character from ikesen needs a character song in general but yknow #LIKE we have one for like hideyoshi and ieyasu and i think uhhhh SHINGEN and ranmaru if i remember correctly #i'd understand if some characters like sasuke never got one since it doesnt seem like their seiyuu does singing #but we can do like an amnesia kent situation with him he can just monologue to a tune i'll accept that #BUT WHAT ABOUT THE OTHER SEIYUU WHO DO SING. i KNOW masamune's actor is a full out singer with like albums and stuff #and you cant hide from me mr mitsuhides voice actor i know u sing for that music franchise. i listen to quell. i know ur secrets #and im gonna be honest i dont need my anime character songs to have like. exceptional singing #like im happy with a few vocal lessons to hit the notes right and let the actor do whatever in character. i think its charming LOL #anyway. screaming crying throwing up because we only ever got 4 character songs #we did get a bunch of theme songs sung by maiko fujita tho which is pretty awesome

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lewisvinga · 3 months

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older | daniel ricciardo x fem! reader

summary; with the real ease of y/n’s ep, ‘older’ , everyone goes crazy trying to figure out who she is writing about

fc; maggie lindemann

warnings; age gap , cursing, mentions of sexual themes

notes; requested! n yes it’s similar to agora hills ! also the way i <3 to write abt dating older men should be studied

taglist; @namgification

masterlist !

liked by yourbestfriend, and others

yourusername: older, out now 🖤

yourbestfriend: bitch I FUCKING LOVE THISSS🥴🥴🥴🥴👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

yourbestfriend: tell him to hook me up w one of his friends too ( specifically someone older )🤗🤗🙏🙏🤪🤪

yourusername: LMFAOO, he said he got u

username: OMG

username: thank u mother for serving once again

username: i think abt u w older pls give me a chance

username: THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDER😩

username: ok but what’s up w yourbestfriend’s comment?? who are u dating??? an old man????

yourusername: ok he’s not an old old man per se, he’s just… a lot older 😁

username: WHAT

username: the sexiest singer itw liked by yourusername!

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, and others

yourusername: me n my sexy old man who can please me better than guys my age 🔥🔥

tagged; danielricciardo

danielricciardo: awh come on now, sunshine, i’m not that old! just 10 years older!

yourusername: hmmmmm

yourbestfriend: hook me up w an old rich man like u and i can change her mind

danielricciardo: deal!

danielricciardo: last part is very true & i take pride in it 😌

yourusername: 🙈

danielricciardo: love you ❤️

yourusername: love you 🫶

username: OMG YOUR EP WAS ABT DANIEL RICCIARDO??

username: his grip on her in the 5th picture 🥴🥴😵‍💫😵‍💫

username: i get dangerous woman now bc i too would sing like that if i was fucking daniel ricciardo 😩

username: how did we not catch this, they’ve been following each other for ages 😭

landonorris: gross

yourusername: ur just sad bc i said guys my age can’t please me

landonorris: IVE HOOKED UP W PLENTY OF GIRLS I AM GOOD

yourbestfriend: i volunteer as tribute??

yourusername: do u want an old man or not

yourbestfriend: he’s older than me by 2 months instead of 10 years 🥴

danielricciardo: aren’t you the one who set us up?

yourbestfriend: so can u hook me up w someone or not

danielricciardo: i told u i am ok it

yourusername: that’s my old man❤️‍🔥

username: screaming crying throwing up

username: do u guys need a third??? 🤔🤔

username: i wanna be in between them so bad

username: y/n is sooo right, older men>>> liked by yourusername !

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #formula one social media au #f1 scenarios #daniel ricciardo smau #daniel ricciardo scenarios #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine

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hairmetal666 · 4 months

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Steve who goes on a Bake Off type show after Robin, Dustin, and Max set him up as a contestant. He doesn't want to, doesn't think baking or cooking should be stressful, but he's been wallowing since his knee surgery took him out of work and basketball, since his divorce.

His first day on set, he's totally gobsmacked by the sexy host with all the tattoos and long, curly hair. Just, cannot take his eyes off the guy, blushing and stammering whenever he comes around to do interviews, obviously can't stop starring.

After the first day, where he manages to stay comfortably in the middle of the pack, he calls Robin to complain about what a mess he becomes around this gorgeous dude.

Her response is to cackle and say, "Steve! How do you not know who Eddie Munson is? Oh my god, you're a disaster."

Turns out, Eddie Munson is the lead singer of Dustin's favorite band, Corroded Coffin, and also pretty well-known for his dnd YouTube channel. He's been a host on the show for years, only Steve doesn't really pay attention when the others watch it and didn't know.

Eddie, for his part, is losing his mind. He'd known about the beautiful contestant for this season, former college basketball superstar turned coach, having a hell of a shitty year after dislocating his kneecap in a charity game. Eddie--foolishly, it turns out--thought he wouldn't be as attractive in person. He also expected Steve to be terrible and egotistical, a jock through and through.

So, when Steve Harrington walks into the tent in a short-sleeved polo and obviously ironed jeans and is still drop-dead gorgeous, he's fucking flabbergasted. And then Steve has the audacity to be nice? Kind and thoughtful and running to help other bakers when he still has work to do himself? He also blushes so pretty, high across his nose and cheeks, and god does hewant to be the reason Steve blushes like that.

Eddie is beside himself.

Leading up to the second week, Steve schools himself into being calm around Eddie. He can't afford to lose his cool like that every time the host is around. Except, this week Eddie flirts with him shamelessly. Winks at him, leans into space, calls him "m'lord" with this deeply resonant voice that makes Steve want to drop to his knees. Steve doesn't mean to, not really, but he flirts right back, feeding Eddie tidbits of his bakes and looking for any excuse to touch him.

Steve does well for the first half of episodes. He never wins the technical or star baker, but he's regularly within the top contestants. On episode five, though, something is off. He's distracted, forgetful, doesn't leave enough time for his custard to set in the signature. Eddie asks if he's okay, but Steve shrugs and smiles, says "off my game today."

But then, in the technical, he curdles his buttercream more than once, and his genoise sponge burns. Eddie watches as Steve folds his arms above his head and disappears from view. He doesn't hesitate, he sprints from his interview, falling to his knees in front of the contestant.

"Stevie, sweetheart, what's going on?"

"I get migraines," Steve whispers. Trails of wet streak down his cheeks. "I've felt one coming all morning, been trying to stave it off but--"

"Okay, okay," Eddie shakes out his hands. "You can sit out this challenge, yeah? Or take this weekend off. It happens. You'll come back next week--"

"I don't want to stop." More tears fall from his eyes.

"What do you need?"

Steve shakes his head, wry little smile pulling at his lips. "Time to breathe."

Eddie glances up, eyes catching on the camera crew hovering in front of them. He throws both middle fingers up and says, in the most reasonable and even tone, "fuck!" Everyone in the tent looks at him, but he doesn't stop. "Shit!" "Bitch!" Motherfucker!" He goes on and on, saying the filthiest series of things he can think of. The camera crew steps away, another contestant brings Steve a glass of water, and Eddie sits with him.

The other host announces that there are thirty minutes remaining in the challenge.

"Well. That's that, then," Steve says. He stands, patting the naked skin of Eddie's knee where it shows through the rip in his jeans as he goes.

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"Out of time, no cake, no buttercream."

Eddie hops to his feet. "You're going to let that stop you?"

"Well." Steve laughs. "Can't serve this." He gestures to his discarded bowls of frosting, his burnt cake.

"You have time to make another buttercream."

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Sure, but not the cake."

"Cut the burnt off. Cover it in the buttercream. Easy peasy."

"Okay..." Steve stares at his station. "Okay, that could work. It won't be pretty, but--"

Eddie, knowing he's no longer needed, steps away, and Steve gets to work.

Steve tells Robin all about it and, as soon as he gets home from the taping and she's immediately like, "Eddie Munson, huh?"

He shoots her a look. "It's nothing."

"Yeah, him leaping over a table to check on you is surely nothing."

"Robin," he warns.

"What?"

"Eddie would never want a guy like me."

She laughs but quickly grows sober. "Steve. Of course he would. He likes you."

"It's nothing, really." He walks towards the kitchen. "What do you want for dinner?"

Eddie experiences the same harassment from his band members and their manager.

"You're gonna ask Harrington out, right?" Gareth asks.

"That would be a little bit of a professional conflict of interest," he deadpans. He doesn't look up from his guitar.

A puffed Cheeto smacks him square in the forehead. "Hey!" He shrieks.

"He means once the season is done, Edward," Chrissy says.

He wipes the cheese dust from his forehead. "Not a good enough reason to call me Edward. Anyway, I'm pretty sure he's straight."

Jeff guffaws. "C'mon, dude. No way. He's so into you he might as well have a neon sign."

"He divorced a woman."

"That doesn't mean anything, and you know it," Chrissy says.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I may be considering asking him out. Maybe."

Everyone cheers. More Cheetos hit him in the face.

---

To Steve's great surprise, he makes it to the finals. Not just makes it, he gets a star baker, gets first in the semi-final technical. He's baking in the final and might have a fucking chance.

It's with great surprise, once it's all said and done, that he hears his name announced as the winner. He doesn't have much time to process it, because Eddie is striding towards him. He's not carrying the cake stand trophy or flowers, it's just Eddie.

Eddie who stops in front of him, eyes shining. Eddie who leans in and whispers, "I knew you could do it, baby, I'm so proud of you." Eddie who twines his fingers through Steve's hair, pulling him into a soft, sweet kiss.

The internet explodes as the season airs. Everyone is obsessed with Steve and Eddie. They have fics on ao3, a dedicated tumblr community, edits, playlists, gif sets, a ship name all dedicated to them. The fandom grows after episode 5 airs. Not all the footage makes it, thanks to Eddie, but they still witness him tenderly taking care of Steve and directing the cameras away. Fans start scouring their social medias, looking for any hint of their relationship status; even beg them in comments and DMs to reveal if it was just a showmance.

Eddie and Steve, however, are happy in the quiet little world the carved out for themselves after filming. They aren't ready to reveal anything, even hints, whether or not the show would let them.

Then, the final airs and the kiss is revealed to the world. The ending title cards show a picture of Steve with the rest of the season's bakers and the caption, "Steve threw a party for the other bakers..."

The picture then changes to one of he and Eddie, arms wrapped around each other. This caption says: "...at the home he shares with his boyfriend Eddie."

That night, in bed, Steve says, "I'm really glad Robin and the kids made me go on the show. But do you think it's bad that the thing I'm happiest about, way more than winning, is that I met you?"

Eddie places a slow circle of kisses in the dip of Steve's lower back. "Sweetheart, I'd be disappointed if you said anything else. Now, hush, I have a baking champion to congratulate."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #fluff #mutual pining #bake off au #tv host eddie munson #bake off contestant steve harrington #i just finished the latest season and had to make it steddie #mel and sue used to do the thing where they cussed and flipped off the cameras so upset bakers couldn't be filmed

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libraryofgage · 6 months

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Good Vibrations Two

This AU got a lot more attention than I expected actually hfjdks I'm so glad everyone likes it!

Anyway, here's part two! We get some concert, some peeks at how Robin helps Steve navigate social situations, and a little Eddie having an itsy-bitsy crisis over Steve's fashion choices.

Have fun! And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't (especially for this one since I wrote most of it on my phone actually lmao)

----

Steve stares at the shirts laid out on his bed, arms crossed over his chest. Choosing jeans had been easy, but choosing a shirt is giving him trouble. What do you wear to a metal show at the local dive bar for a small-town band in which the lead singer is a long-time and way-out-of-your-league crush that you've been holding a candle for since the first time you saw him laugh on top of a cafeteria table?

You definitely don't show up in a plain black shirt, that's for sure.

The lights in the hall outside Steve's room flicker, switching off and on three times. Steve just barely notices, which means he doesn't get his pants scared off when Robin appears in the doorway, grinning at him while pocketing the key to the front door he'd given her months ago into a messenger bag. "Hey, dingus," she says, striding into the room and flopping onto the bed.

Steve rolls his eyes, yanking the shirts out from under her and laying them once more over Robin's stomach and legs. "What shirt should I wear?" he asks.

It takes a few seconds for Steve to look from the shirts to Robin, and she patiently waits until he's staring at her to say, "Just pick one. Nobody's gonna care what you're wearing."

"I care," Steve says, frowning as he looks back at the shirts. For the aforementioned crush reason, Steve cares very much about the shirt he wears. "What says 'Hi, we've never talked before but your music is the only thing I can hear and I think your hair is in desperate need of quality shampoo and also I've been halfway in love with you since, like, sophomore year'?"

Robin considers the question for a long moment before picking up a red sweater. "This one says 'I'm horny'," she offers.

Steve blinks, staring at the sweater for a few beats before laughing. "But I'm not," he says.

Despite looking at Robin, she happens to angle her head toward the sweater, and her response is lost on Steve. He frowns, waits until her jaw has stopped moving, and says, "I didn't get that."

After Robin first learned about Steve's deafness, he'd been overly anxious about asking her to repeat things. Somehow, it was worse to constantly ask when the person knew he couldn't hear well, if at all. But Robin had never shown annoyance; she'd just adjust her posture, make sure Steve could see her lips, and repeat her words. She does all of this now, and Steve gets to read her joking response, "Yeah, but you will be."

And, yeah, she has him there. Steve huffs and collapses onto the bed beside her, sacrificing the shirts. "I'll need a jacket," he says, turning his head to look at Robin so he can read her response.

Instead of words, though, he sees her face light up, and she jumps off the bed. Steve sits up, watching as she digs in her messenger bag before pulling out a t-shirt. "Remember when I stayed over a few weeks ago? And you let me borrow a shirt? You should wear it!"

Thankfully, Robin waits until she's done talking to throw the shirt in Steve's face. Honestly, he only understood a few words ("remember," "borrow," and "wear") but he's gathered enough context clues to get the gist of things.

He spreads the shirt out, humming at the Iron Maiden design. It's not one he wears often; for the most part, it's a shirt he wears on lazy days at home because of how soft it is. But as he's studying the design, Steve is suddenly hit with a stroke of pure genius.

He quickly changes into the shirt and then grabs a varsity jacket (not his letterman, but one he'd seen at the mall and bought on a whim because it used a nice shade of yellow) off his desk, tugging it on over the shirt but leaving it unbuttoned. After a few more seconds of digging around, he finds sneakers under the bed and tugs them on.

"Okay," he says, turning so Robin can see the outfit from every angle. He comes to a stop when he's facing her once more, hands buried in his jacket pockets, and asks, "What do you think? How's it look?"

"I think you'll give Eddie a crisis," Robin replies, wrinkling her nose at the varsity jacket. "Not, like, a bad one. But he'll probably ask where you got the shirt from."

Steve grins, thinking that sounds about perfect, and turns to study himself in the mirror. It's a surprisingly solid blend of metal and jock, and it makes him feel oddly confident, the same way he felt the first time he did his hair just right and everyone complimented it.

"Perfect," he decides. "Let's go."

----

The ride to the Hideout isn't exactly quiet, but it's not like Steve can talk and drive at the same time. So it's filled with music blasted as high as it can go on his car stereo, causing the whole vehicle to vibrate with each beat. When he finally turns the car off after parking, Robin grimaces as she rubs her ears.

She waits for Steve to be in front of her before saying, "We're putting the windows down next time."

"Oh. Sorry," Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck a little awkwardly as Robin dismissively waves off his apology.

"No, it's fine, I'm just saying. Now, let's get inside before they start."

With that, she loops her arm through Steve's and drags him into the Hideout. They're hit with a wave of cigarette smoke, spilled beer, and sweat as they walk through the door, the combined smells making Steve dizzy. He frowns, leaning closer to Robin as she squeezes his arm. He feels her thumb tap him twice, their code for asking if the other is okay.

"I'm fine," he mumbles, nodding to a table in the corner. "Let's go sit. I just need to get used to...everything."

The lights are weird, too. Despite the place being dim, the few lights that are on are flickering, and Steve is having trouble processing all the new information his (working) senses are taking in.

Thankfully, Robin pulls him over to the table he pointed to, a small circle near a stage of dubious sturdiness. It looks like it can barely hold the instruments, much less those plus the people who will play them. There's an amp on the side of the stage near the table, which means they'll have the perfect spot to feel the music's vibrations. Steve slides into one of the chairs there and closes his eyes, resting his arms on a table that is surprisingly not sticky.

He feels Robin move the other chair next to him, slide in, and start pulling things out of her bag. When Steve opens his eyes again, there's a notebook between them and a variety of pens in all different colors spread out across the open pages. Robin has already picked up a red pen and is writing with it as Steve chooses a purple one.

When Robin is done writing, she taps the page so Steve can read, "Want something to drink?"

"I'm not sure we can trust the glasses here," he writes back.

"The fact you're calling them "glasses" tells me everything. Just sit tight."

With that, Robin drops her pen, winks at Steve, and heads over to the bar where a woman is wiping the counter. Steve watches her for a few seconds before looking around at the other people in the place. Most of them are sitting in groups, talking amongst themselves. Most of them also have mustaches or beards, making it downright impossible for Steve to read their lips.

Instead, Steve just gets a dull kind of rush in his ears, an ever-present background noise he can't escape. Soon enough, maybe because he's thinking about it too much, a high-pitched ringing starts up in his right ear, growing and growing in pitch until it's all he can focus on. Steve grimaces and looks down at the notebook, trying to keep his shoulders relaxed so he doesn't look as tense as he feels. The ringing persists, and he rubs his ear like that's going to help.

His ear is still ringing, though it has started to diminish, when a water bottle is placed in front of him. Steve jerks, forcing himself to calm down as Robin slides into her seat again with a mug of beer that's more foam than anything else. "They're about to start," she says, waiting until Steve has nodded once to show understanding before taking a sip.

Steve looks up at the stage and wonders how he missed Eddie and his friends arriving. As his friends are setting up behind him, Eddie is resting one hand on the neck of his guitar and using the other to hold the mic close to his mouth. Steve can't read his lips, but Eddie's grin is a little contagious as he says something to a guy by the bar. The guy must say something back, because Eddie bursts out laughing, his head thrown back to show off a neck Steve wants to bite.

A tap on his arm brings his attention away, and he looks at the notebook to see Robin has scrawled out a transcript:

"Eddie: Thanks for coming out tonight, everyone

Guy: Fuck off, Munson

Eddie: Love you, too, Jeremy"

Steve snorts, looking up to see Robin's equally amused smile as she continues to write on another page. When he glances at the stage, Steve sees Eddie still talking into the mic, his eyes roaming over the audience until they reach Steve and Robin. Eddie seems to grip the mic tighter, and he holds Steve's eyes for a few seconds, giving just enough time for Steve to wave awkwardly before Eddie looks away. But his smile seems a little bigger than before, and Steve is happy to let himself think he caused it.

When he looks down again, Robin has finished writing, and she nudges the notebook closer to him. Eddie must talk fast, because her writing is almost indistinguishable from chicken scratch in dirt that a cat got dragged through. Thankfully, Steve is an expert at this point.

"Eddie: Anyway, you know the drill. We'll start with some Metallica, treat you to Iron Maiden, throw in a dash of Black Sabbath, and then grace you with a Corroded Coffin original. If you don't like it, not my problem."

Steve feels the beginning of the set as he finishes reading. He sits a little straighter, planting his feet firmly on the floor and placing his palms on the table with his fingers spread. Robin is still writing next to him, most likely transcribing the bits and pieces of conversation she can hear for Steve to read later and laugh at. She doesn't try to get his attention while she does, already knowing it won't be worth it after Steve has shifted into Music Mode.

In the same way that people can tell what song is playing based simply on the first note, Steve can sometimes tell based on the strength and length of the first vibration. In the same way people know the lyrics of songs after listening to them enough times, Steve knows the vibration patterns like the back of his hand. In the same way people who hear their favorite songs played live can tell when a note is wrong or a lyric is sung too fast, Steve can tell when the drummer or bassist makes tiny mistakes that wouldn't be caught otherwise.

And Steve loves it. He loves how his entire body thrums with each vibration that travels from the amp. He loves how he can close his eyes and picture a story based on the music, one that probably doesn't match the lyrics but tends to replace them in his heart. He loves that this is something he can still share with his friends, even if most of them don't realize how different his experience with music is.

So, for all the little bumps and dips that occur in the vibrations as Corroded Coffin plays, for all the tiny slips that certainly go unnoticed by anyone else, and for all the fact that Steve doesn't get to hear Eddie's voice, he can confidently say he loves the show. He's never heard the songs played like this before, and it helps diminish the gut-deep desperation for new music.

And then Corroded Coffin starts a new song. It's one Steve doesn't recognize, one with vibrations that are completely foreign to him, and he jerks his head up to watch Eddie play his guitar in an opening solo. It thrums across the floor, climbing up his legs and spreading in waves from his palms on the table. Steve feels goosebumps chase after it, a new wave washing over him when the guitar solo ends with a particularly strong vibration that's immediately followed by the drums and bass.

Eddie throws himself into the music, moving and twisting and strutting around the stage like he's playing to Madison Square Garden. Steve can't look away, the lyrics incomprehensible but replaced by the jerk of Eddie's hips and the tilt of his head and the little half-spin he does on his heel.

It ends too quickly with one final, reverberating strum that lingers in Steve's bones, burrowing into his marrows as Eddie pushes his hair back and grins into the mic. He says something breathlessly, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath, and Steve knows he's gone.

He's hopeless.

He's desperate.

He needs more Corroded Coffin, more Eddie, in whatever form he can get.

----

For the first time, Corroded Coffin gets genuine applause after playing. Usually, the patrons of the Hideout will politely clap (if they even notice the set is over) for about two seconds. Tonight, however, Eddie and his friends are graced with excited clapping, a few shouts, and one very strong whistle from a small table to the left of the stage. And it spreads because even rough biker dudes can fall to peer pressure when it's that enthusiastic.

So, yeah, genuine applause all because of Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley who, Eddie thinks, is surprising company for the former King of Hawkins High. No matter how unexpected, he should still thank them and ask what they thought of the set now that it's over. He carefully sets his guitar on a stand and glances over his shoulder, catching Jeff's gaze and flashing a grin. "I'll be right back," he says before jumping off the stage and heading over to Steve and Robin's table.

As he gets closer, he notices the notebook and pens spread out, colorful writing filling the pages and Steve grinning with amusement as he reads it. Robin is watching him like she's waiting for him to understand an inside joke already so they can laugh about it together. If Eddie didn't already know Robin was like him (band camp, summer after his junior year, during an unfortunate game of Seven Minutes in Heaven where they awkwardly stood in a closet together before Robin commented on his black bandana), he'd wonder if something was going on between them.

"How'd you like the set?" Eddie asks when he reaches the table, suddenly nervous enough to tug on a lock of his hair and pull it in front of his mouth.

Robin looks up, but Steve doesn't. He's still reading the notebook, snorting at whatever is written there like he didn't hear Eddie. It's not until Robin elbows him that he raises his head, eyes widening when he sees Eddie. "Sorry, could you repeat that?" Steve asks, his gaze dropping to Eddie's mouth (Eddie definitely isn't imagining that) and faltering some.

"I asked if you liked the set," Eddie says, frowning slightly as Robin grabs a pen and scribbles something on the notebook. It's too small for him to read, but he doesn't miss how Steve glances down for less than a second before his eyes light up with realization.

"Oh!" he says, looking back at Eddie and flashing a charming grin. "It was great. You guys are so loud, and I've never f-uh, heard anything like your original song before."

Eddie catches the way Steve fumbles, faltering like he wanted to say one word but forced himself to say another. Something is tugging at the back of Eddie's mind, but he can't quite grab onto it just yet. For now, he leans forward, placing both hands on the table so he can be closer to Steve. "You listen to metal often, Harrington?" he asks.

Steve stares at his mouth for a few seconds before nodding, and Eddie feels the thrill of learning something completely unexpected. "I like Black Sabbath best, but Judas Priest and Guns N' Roses are close seconds," Steve says.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, "What do you like most about it?" He wants to know. Does Steve Harrington (King Steve, Steve "The Hair" Harrington, Steve fucking Harrington) like metal for the same reasons he does? Does he like the stories and the passion and the heavy theatricality of it all?

Steve seems to hesitate, possibly thinking about how to answer, before finally saying, "I like how it's music I can feel. When I listen to metal, it digs into my bones. Other music doesn't."

Somehow, Eddie's grin gets impossibly wider, and his cheeks are hurting from the sheer force of it. He's about to say more when Robin glances at the clock and swears under her breath. "Shit, I promised Mom I'd be home ten minutes ago," she says, grabbing the pens and recklessly throwing them into her bag.

It's the movement that seems to catch Steve's attention, and he looks down at Robin's hands before looking up at the clock. "Oh, fuck, your curfew," he says, looking at Robin like she hadn't just said the same thing two seconds ago.

"Yeah, no shit, dingus," Robin says, pausing long enough to speak while looking straight at Steve before throwing the notebook into her bag, too. She jumps to her feet and hauls Steve out of the chair, making his varsity jacket fall open to reveal an Iron Maiden shirt.

And Eddie thinks his heart just about stops. He doesn't know why, but seeing Steve in a metal band shirt under an undeniably jock jacket makes him feel....something. This is, like, sacrilege, right? How dare Steve Harrington allow Metal and Jock to meet? Doesn't he know the two styles clash? Or, well, they're supposed to clash, but Steve somehow wears them well, and Eddie thinks he's upset and annoyed by the fact.

Before Eddie can analyze that feeling, Steve says, "Sorry to run, Eddie. You played really well. Let me know when the next show is."

There's a lot to unpack there, too. Steve Harrington wants to come to another Corroded Coffin gig. Steve Harrington is sorry he has to cut the conversation short. Steve Harrington thinks his band played really well. Before Eddie can say anything in response, Robin is dragging Steve away, throwing a goodbye over her shoulder.

Eddie doesn't want Steve to go without something, though, some kind of departing word, so he shouts, "See ya later, big boy!"

Steve doesn't look back, but Robin nearly trips over the doorway. She then pauses long enough to say something to Steve, watching with sheer delight as he splutters and glances at Eddie before dragging her through the door. Eddie couldn't stop the grin if he tried, and he didn't try.

Later, when Eddie is sprawled on the floor of his room, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about Steve's stupid combination of Metal and Jock, he'll be struck by a sudden, consuming thought. What if Steve was wearing just the Iron Maiden shirt? What if he wore just the jacket?

Eddie swallows around the sudden lump in his throat, his mouth going dry as he scrambles to his feet and gets ready to take a very, very cold shower.

----

Tag List (the tag list is completely filled up! There definitely wasn't enough room for everyone who requested a tag orz

Please follow the tag "good vibrations Steddie" or put on notifications for my blog to see when new parts are posted :D)

@hallucinatedjosten, @queenie-ofthe-void, @r0binscript, @jewellthebooknerd, @paintgonewrong, @vacantwatchers, @newagemyth, @gutterflower77, @just-a-tiny-void, @littlebluejane

@whenindoubtb72, @different-tale-student, @sharingisntkaren, @current-steddie-brainrot, @willim-billiam-byerson, @nuggies4life

@lostgurl-12, @anomalygal, @synonym-for-strange, @sani-86, @missmagillicuddy, @ilikechocolatemilkh, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @harringrieve, @awesomeimportantfan, @fredtheemoplant, @warlordess, @therealscarletpumpernickel, @gsvshsjsbs, @mightbeasleep, @mollymawkwrites

@lil-gremlin-things, @honorarybrit81, @sonny-ray-of-goth, @potent-idiocy, @fandomcartographer, @heartsong18, @lingeringmirth, @ko0kyco0kies, @ccomandercody, @spiderman-stilinski, @l0st-strawberry, @xxsky-shockxx, @stilesstickitinme, @boxsam, @thepansexualsnake, @37-screamingfrogs, @yourmom-isgay, @brainsteddielyrotted, @plasticcrotches, @hannahhook7744

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fluff #good vibrations steddie #deaf steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve harrington #stranger things #my writing

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billfarrah · 25 days

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One of my favourite things about Young Royals and its characters is how much it romanticizes being utterly ordinary.

Stories often focus on characters who are exceptionally good at something or who are more ambitious than the average person. Even in the teen shows I’ve watched, these young characters always seemed to have their dream career and dream university figured out at a young age and I could never relate to that because I had none of those things figured out as a teen. It always felt like pushing this narrative that teenagers need to have their entire lives figured out before their brains are even fully developed.

None of the characters in YR seem particularly ambitious and in fact, the main character’s journey is a story of anti-ambition. When he is introduced to Simon, it is precisely Simon’s ordinariness that draws Wille to him. Sure, Simon is a very talented singer, but it’s never indicated within the series that he has dreams of being a pop star. It’s just something he likes to do. Simon is motivated by very ordinary things - he wants to do well in school so he can have better opportunities for himself, he wants to take care of his family, he wants to hang out with his friends and play video games. He’s a dedicated student but not necessarily valedictorian. It’s not his ambition that Wille is drawn to but his integrity and kindness and warmth.

Wille had a chance to be extraordinary - to be Sweden’s first gay king - but being extraordinary has never been Wille’s ambition. Wille’s ultimate goal and dream within the series’ narrative is to be free to make his own decisions and live his life as he pleases. He just wants to kiss his boyfriend and get drunk at parties and live his life one day at a time instead of spending every moment of his life preparing for an inevitable future he doesn’t want. In the end Wille is extraordinary not for his ambition, but for his bravery to reject the expectations thrust upon him and throw himself into the unknown and see where it takes him. Wille had a whole future in front of him as crown prince and future king - he’d never have to work a day in his life and would have people advising his every move - and he rejects that. This lack of ambition is not portrayed as a moral failure, but a necessary step in Wille’s journey to personal self-discovery and fulfillment of his own desires. His desire right now is simple - be free with Simon, but that doesn’t mean his dreams end here forever. He deserves peace and tranquility after all the trauma he’s been through without having to worry about where or who he’s gonna be in a few years. He deserves time to just exist.

None of the characters know where they’re going when they drive away at the end. We as the audience don’t know what careers if any these characters will find themselves in, but that’s also not important to this story. The series is saying you don’t have to have everything figured out when you’re 17 and you don’t have to do something just because your parents think they know what’s best for you and even if you don’t know exactly what you want to do, that doesn’t mean you don’t have the agency to know what you don’t want.

It’s not a moral failing to want the simple things in life or to be ordinary, and I love that Young Royals celebrates that. It shows the beauty in simple moments that feel revolutionary to a person - touching the person you love, forgiving someone and making amends after a hardship, whooping with your friends in a car as you drive into the summer and celebrates them. Ultimately these are the moments that make life worth living.

#young royals #idk if this even makes sense but I had to get it off my chest

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petpenname · 10 days

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Heartache

pairing: Ellie Williams [brother's best friend] x fem reader c.w. : smoking summary: you have had your eyes on your brother's best friend and band member forever, but you'd never think she would actually talk to you? a/n: this was a submission + I'll make more parts if it gets a good response!

The air in your room hangs heavy with humidity. A slight breeze from your open window blows through, fluttering your various posters and decor hanging on your walls. And over you, sprawled across your bed, flipping through social media, you were honestly bored out of your mind. Three weeks into summer and your closest friend was away for vacation, leaving you alone… and bored.

Cycling through your socials again you get fed up with the lack of entertainment and toss your phone on the floor with an exacerbated sigh. You lay on your bed, wondering what you should do to fill the void of dopamine when the sound of music begins to fill the house. A mixture of rock, indie, and midwest emo songs rang out from your garage, conveniently positioned directly under your room.

Your brother's band got around to practicing, you assumed. You didn’t even realize your brother was home, he had gone out earlier this morning after your parents left for work. The music got louder and you suddenly had an idea of what you wanted to do, and it wasn't staying here and listening to your brother's shitty garage band. You gather your sketchbook, some pens, headphones, and a few other things into a bag, throw on a hoodie and a pair of shoes and head downstairs. You were headed to a river spot in the woods near your house. It was a commonly frequented spot by you, and your friends but not known to many. Perfect for a little seclusion and wading in cool water.

You walk down stairs and almost instantly are hit with the strong earthy smell of smoke. You linger for a second and decide that your trip would be improved with a joint, hoping your brother would front you something, you enter the loud garage.

Your brother and his band mates, all two of them, were unaware of your entrance. They were playing as loud as possible (maybe not as well as possible) but they were producing sound! Your brother slamming away on the drums while the guitarist, and bassist/singer were in their own worlds.

“Hey!” you yell over the trio.

“HEY KAI!” You shout once more at your brother. Who, without skipping a beat or stopping, yells back.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

This got the attention of the other two band members who did stop upon seeing you standing there, amps silencing to white noise feedback.

“Can I get a joint?” you ask.

“You got money for a joint?” Kai laughs.

“Can you just front me one?” you reply back flatly

“Why should I?”

“If you give me one I wont tell mom you were smoking in the house again.” You counter.

“It’s the garage so technically not the house and whatever you know they wont do anything”

“She can have one of mine?” a voice sparks up behind Kai, drawing your attention to the guitarist. A girl named Ellie. She and Kai had been longtime friends and bandmates. You barely knew anything about her other than she was in Kai’s grade, one above yours, but you knew her. You knew her eye color, her favorite flannel she wore a little too often. You knew she got a new guitar last year, and a fresh tattoo this year that shined under the garage light as she held up a joint in your direction.

You also knew that this was one of the only times she had ever spoken to you. Not like you were around each other often but you almost felt like she would try to avoid you when she was over. Shocked, but with adrenaline pumping you took your chance, walking over to Ellie. She still had her guitar hanging around her, flannel sleeves rolled up, her hair was a bit disheveled from playing, strands falling out of her half up hair do.

She hands you the joint with a sideways smile, and her eyes glint a bit.

“Thanks, you’re so much nicer than my brother” you scoff, giving her a smile back. You turn to leave, flipping off Kai as you bound out the door, leaving the band members commotion in the garage. Not seeing Kai chuck a drumstick at Ellie who dodges it with a laugh.

The success of getting a joint over shined the butterflies fluttering in your stomach from that look she gave you. The sun hit your face as you got outside and you were only looking forward to your solo date in the forest.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was setting slowly, but from where you were in the woods shade had taken over your spot. You had smoked, worked on your art, and walked along the water looking for rocks. Hanging out in the forest for a few hours always rejuvenated you in a way you couldn’t explain. But you started to get cold and decided now was a good time to head home. While packing up you realized you had pretty bad cotton mouth from the joint, so you planned to stop by the corner store.

It wasn’t a long walk but by the time you got to the corner store it was dusk. Street lights started sparking up like stars in the night sky. You opened the glass door and walked in, perusing the aisles for any snack or drink that could satiate your munchies. You were contemplating between an iced tea or a soda when the doorbell rang as someone walked in the store. You barely noticed the bell, or the girl walking up behind you until she spoke.

“Did you enjoy your smoke?”

You jump, previously lost in your thoughts, you turn around to see Ellie standing there. She was wearing a hoodie now, her guitar in its case strapped to her back.

“Oh my god you scared me!” you say, almost dropping the bottles in your hands.

“Sorry! Didn't mean to!” Ellie laughs, moving around you to open the fridge door next to you and grab a coke. “Funny running into you here” she says, a little awkward you note.

“I mean my house is only a few blocks away,” you laugh.

“Mm ya i guess so, you getting both of those?” Ellie looks down at the bottles in your hand.

“Oh um, I'm getting this one.” you hold up the iced tea & go to put back the soda. Before you could think Ellie takes the iced tea from your hand and starts walking towards the front of the store.

“Hey wait!” you look at her confused.

“Oh do you want something else princess?” Ellie turns back to look at you with a smirk.

Sparks ignite in your stomach, confused but now flustered, your mind swirling. You finally get a word out, “no, just that” and Ellie turns back to walk towards the cash register.

You follow her, not really knowing what to do or how to act. Ellie and you had barely spoken to each other before this. And now she's acting so casually around you, and what did she call you? Everything happened so fast you barely caught it but reflecting back now, did she call you princess?

Ellie pays for the two drinks and you walk out together, taking your ice tea from her once outside.

“Thank you, you didn't have to do that” you say, unscrewing the top and taking a refreshing sip.

“Don't mention it” Ellie says, “So are you going back home now?”

“Mhm yeah, what about you?”

“Yeah I was, but it's getting dark now, i’ll walk you back home first” Ellie says with a smile.

“Who said chivalry was dead” you joke, it was a nice gesture, as much as you were confused by Ellie’s sudden intentions you couldn’t help but feel a type of way when she looked at you. Her green eyes danced over your face like she was memorizing your features. You wondered if she always looked at you this way?

She had. Ellie for the past few years had been keeping such a distance from you because when you were around she felt her whole body tense up. She felt like she was on fire if you looked in her direction. And god help her if she tried to speak around you, she ended up tripping over her words and losing her train of thought. Truthfully, she didn't know what magical queer fairy blessed her with the confidence to talk to you today. But she had taken in a chance earlier in the garage, and when she saw you in the store she knew it wasn't a coincidence.

The walk back to your house was short, only a few blocks. You and Ellie joke together and talk about summer plans in the meantime. Both of you slightly high still, making your balance shifty, occasionally you would brush shoulders, sending sparks down each other's spines.

When you get to your house you stop at the walk way, a little awkwardly since you knew Ellie had been in your house before.

“Thanks for walking me home! And buying me this, um and the joint '' you say, taking in all of Ellie’s courtesy today, a little unsure what to do with yourself.

“Any time!” Ellie says with a smile, she fidgets where she stands for a second before reaching her hand up to your face. She tucks a small strand of hair behind your ear, without breaking eye contact.

“Have a good night y/n” and with that she turns around and walks away, putting up her hood.

She left you solidified on the sidewalk, body unmoving but nerves on fire with a simple touch. You float for the next hour or so, barely registering going into your house and up to your room. Trying to make sense of what had just happened, and why now? And why so suddenly?

Later that night you receive a notification on Instagram

* @www.ellie followed you *

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #ellie williams smut #ellie smut #the last of us

874 notes · View notes

astonmartinii · 4 months

Text

a very nonsense christmas | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem singer!reader

face claim: sabrina carpenter

based on this request: Hi, how are you can you please write something with Charles x singer reader like a part 2 of "nonsense... or is it?" based on Santa doesn't know you like I do music video something very wholesome idk you can ignore this if you want, hope you have a good day/night 🤍 - @rana030

MASTERLIST | BUY ME A KO-FI? | PART ONE

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,441,934 others

yourusername: do you hear those slay bells ringing? i love christmas so much that i'm giving you guys six new songs for this holiday season !!

view all comments

user1: mama is going straight on the nice list for this one

user2: christmas is saved

charles_leclerc: so proud of you cherie

yourusername: says the muse

charles_leclerc: you're my angel on the top of the tree

yourusername: as long as you're under the tree ready to be unwrapped

pierregasly: STOP

alexalbon: we MUST protect the sanctity of christmas

yourusername: oh alex, do not listen to the ep...

alexalbon: too late just pressed play

alexalbon: YOU NEED THE CHARLES DICKENS ???

yourusername: amazing word play, am i right?

alexalbon: no.

charles_leclerc: he doesn't meant that babe. lily has a commitment, he's just lonely

user3: y/n was like "if you weren't aware, i am getting DICKED DOWN for christmas"

user4: as much as i'd peel all of my skin off to be in either of their positions, good for her

maxverstappen1: i think nonsense christmas has single handedly killed my investigative journalism career. i am not analysing charles' massive sack

yourusername: damn right you won't be

charles_leclerc: maybe you should analyse it, you could learn something from it

maxverstappen1: hOW DARE YOU

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, charles_leclerc and 1,887,341 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, taylorswift & killatrav

yourusername: thank you to all the lovely people who came to the fruitcake release party ! xx

view all comments

user7: CHARLES AND TRAVIS IN ONE PLACE ALERT

user8: so does this mean we can get a y/n and charles appearance on the new heights podcast?

charles_leclerc: do you think people could tell i was about to pass out while playing the piano?

yourusername: definitely not !

maxverstappen1: yes we could

charles_leclerc: WHAT I WAS JUST NERVOUS AND I DIDN'T WANT TO LET Y/N DOWN AND TAYLOR WAS THERE SO I DIDN'T WANT TO EMBARRASS MYSELF

maxverstappen1: okay i didn't need the pity party. you were good, unfortunately very good. i need to learn piano now. i have to beat you in everything

yourusername: maybe you should've forgone the santa suit... it was quite warm

charles_leclerc: but you wanna be mrs claus ? (i also have a big north pole lol)

alexalbon: ENOUGH

user9: wait so like, was the grid at the release party?

user10: based on most of their instagram stories, and y/n's stories i'm gonna say yes

taylorswift: i had so much fun !! i love fruitcake and tell charlie his piano was great

charles_leclerc: SUCK ON THAT @maxverstappen1

taylorswift: ?

charles_leclerc: we've got bad blood taylor's version featuring kendrick lamar?

taylorswift: i see

maxverstappen1: he's the reason we can't have nice things

user11: someone free taylor from lestappen

killatrav: okay. the girls throw the best parties. esteban and pierre i own your team now, you guys gotta get better at drinking

yourusername: careful travis they're french ...

killtrav: is your boyfriend not also french? he's like a puppy dog

yourusername: HE'S MONAGASQUE

charles_leclerc: i am NOT french

estebanocon: i only threw up because eggnog is not what you guys advertise it to be

pierregasly: i'm not gonna lie i don't remember even seeing you last night

user12: okay so get invited to one of these parties is definitely on the bucket list now

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, yourusername and 1,922,033 others

tagged: yourusername, killatrav

charles_leclerc: charles and travis 🤝 just happy we got a chance

view all comments

user13: if he's not like them i don't want it

user14: if santa doesn't pull through with a man like them under my tree this year ... imma be mad

killatrav: travis and charles 🤝 having girlfriends that make us giggle and swing our feet

charles_leclerc: does the honeymoon phase ever finish?

killtrav: well it definitely hasn't for me

maxverstappen1: NOOOOOOOOOOOO

alexalbon: say it ain't so

yourusername: haters gonna hate 😎

alexalbon: he is so happy it is bordering on insufferable

charles_leclerc: alex :(

alexalbon: i am very happy for you charlie and lily is definitely very happy for you, but if you talk to me for the TWELVE HOUR flight to brazil again i will terminate this friendship

killtrav: i am so confused

user15: poor travis and taylor are just being exposed to the grid chaos

yourusername: you posting this like i'm not the luckiest girl in the world

charles_leclerc: i just love you so much and i'm so glad you shortlisted me for your music video

yourusername: yeah spolier alert there was no shortlist. i wanted you and i didn't want to get out right rejected...

charles_leclerc: as if i would reject any offer from you i think i would've torn down maranello if they said i wasn't allowed to be in it

scuderiaferrari: ?

user16: i'm so obsessed with how much charles has embraced the wag life

user17: can't believe i get to live a life where i can bop along to music about how good in bed charles leclerc is

user18: they better not break up cause i may be tifosi but i shall be streaming

yourusername added to their story

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, charles_leclerc and 1,833,922 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: santa doesn't know you like i do baby

view all comments

user21: all i want for christmas is even more y/n and charles content

user22: mum and dad have kept us fed over the winter break

user23: i'm not ready for them to be separated when the season starts again :(

charles_leclerc: not to be that person but we're so hot

yourusername: no, you should say it louder

charles_leclerc: WE'RE HOT

maxverstappen1: can you people knock it off or we're not coming to your christmas party

yourusername: ERM ??? 🫤

alexalbon: you people have single handedly made me the grinch

yourusername: but but but ??? you all begged for an invite :(

charles_leclerc: FAKE and that's why you're all getting coal from us

user24: my god i am so lonely

user25: if i don't wake up to a charles shape gift under my tree i will not make it to next christmas

danielricciardo: just to be sure, this party is not going to be filmed and turned into a music video?

yourusername: it's just an old-fashioned shin dig girly don't worry

yourusername: or by the tone of this, should i be worried?

danielricciardo: no!

charles_leclerc: do NOT ruin my home please

danielricciardo: no promises xoxoxo

user26: y/n might want to film the party but I NEED THE FOOTAGE

user27: @tedkravitz boy do i have a gig for you

danielricciardo

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,093,445 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & yourusername

danielricciardo: do NOT drink the eggnog at a y/n christmas party this is a public safety announcement

view all comments

user28: i would commit unspeakable crimes to be present here

yourusername: if you weren't a fake fan you would've listened to fruitcake and would know we spike the eggnog 🤷‍♀️

danielricciardo: i am a fan !!!!!!!!!

yourusername: you asked me and yuki how we escaped the north pole last night

yukitsunoda0511: don't think i've forgotten about that, say goodbye to a tow in quali old man

danielricciardo: IT WAS A COMPLIMENT ELVES ARE CUTE?

charles_leclerc: don't call my girlfriend cute that's my job 🤨

danielricciardo: do you people ever let me live? i am battling a hangover like no other please stop shouting at me

charles_leclerc: maybe someone of your old age should manage his drink better

danielricciardo: THAT'S IT I'M GOING

yourusername: thanks we did actually want the kitchen floor back

user29: daniel calling y/n and yuki elves kills me

yourusername: we're not elf height we're cutie patootie height 💅

yukitsunoda0511: amen

alexalbon: i will endure the torture because that was fucking insane

maxverstappen1: @yourusername you're in charge of all after parties now sorry

yourusername: let charlie win and you got a deal

maxverstappen1: i'd rather drink my gin and tonic in a ditch than let that happen

charles_leclerc: BOOO

alexalbon: cocktail recipe immediately @yourusername

yourusername: you've changed your tune ?

alexalbon: i had fun, sue me. plus i am actually happy for charlie but please no more singing about his dick

yourusername: i can't make any promises

charles_leclerc: and there's plenty of material to get the creative juices flowing

alexalbon: FUCK OFF

maxverstappen1: FUCK OFF

user30: the grid will never know peace, not even at christmas time

charles_leclerc

liked by taylorswift, yourusername and 1,893,446 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: nothing like the holidays with the love of your life

view all comments

user35: how down bad all men should be

yourusername: best holidays ever !!!! love you charlie xx

charles_leclerc: my christmas wish last year came true, and now you're stuck with me

yourusername: no one i would rather be stuck with

charles_leclerc: I LOVE YOU

yourusername: I LOVE YOU MORE

user36: good thing i got presents this year or the sheer sight of this couple would make me so jealous i would spontaneously combust

user37: real

landonorris: you will see to the crime of the stupid amount of mistletoe you had up at that damn party

charles_leclerc: have you seen y/n? (don't answer that) obviously i want any excuse to kiss her

landonorris: i DON'T CARE I HAD TO KISS DANIEL FIVE TIMES I WILL NEVER RECOVER

danielricciardo: i know you enjoyed baby

landonorris: @yourusername @charles_leclerc YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS

yourusername: idk it looked like you enjoyed it to me

landonorris: you WATCHED?

yourusername: i filmed it :) top blackmail material, don't crash into charlie OR ELSE

charles_leclerc: thanks babe

landonorris: @georgerussell63 get the gdpa to intervene nOW

georgerussell63: eh i'm quite entertained

user38: this really is the giving season huh

arthurleclerc: do i mean nothing to you?

charles_leclerc: you're nowhere near as cute as y/n 🤷‍♀️

yourusername: awwwww charlie

arthurleclerc: EXCUSE ME? WHAT HAPPENED TO CHRISTMAS SPIRIT?

user39: charles is really ride or die lol

note: have a very merry christmas! i hope you guys all have a great holiday season and enjoy this quick one! i've been super busy but wanted to give you all a lil christmas treat - much love xx

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc

1K notes · View notes

dirtyvulture · 16 days

Text

Envy and Venom

Heiress!Natasha Romanoff x CEO!Beefy!Fem!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You are the notorious playboy who just inherited one of the biggest tech companies in the world. Your first move? Sleeping with the heiress of your rival company.

Word count: 4190

AN: Randomly came up with this idea, it's a little different than my other stuff, but give it a read. :)

DAY 1

“You couldn’t have picked a better person for the job,” you tease, gripping tightly onto your father’s hand as the sea of flashing lights fifteen feet away practically blinds you. The reporters call out for your attention but you ignore them, pausing in the awkward, hand-holding pose with your father so the photo can be plastered across the front page of news outlets around the world.

“I trust you. Don’t ruin what I’ve started,” your father says, grabbing onto your shoulder and pulling you into a tight embrace. “And please try to keep your…escapades…a little more under wraps, okay?” he whispers into your ear.

“I’ll try, Dad,” you say, but it isn’t really your fault that the public was so interested in what goes on in your bedroom. Then again, you hadn’t exactly been trying to be subtle when you were fucking your secretary against the penthouse window of your apartment, but people should try to mind their own business more.

Your father pushes you back and the two of you turn in unison to wave at the crowd once more.

“Congratulations!” you hear them echoing. “To Envy Industries’ new CEO, Y/N!”

***********************************************************************

Naturally, to celebrate your latest achievement, you host the party of the century, inviting other world-renowned millionaires, fellow tech company gurus, actors, singers, celebrities, and pretty much anyone else who fit society’s thinly-veiled description of “famous.” You initially show up with two models you had already spent the afternoon with, but you weren’t interested in stringing them along and were excited to find some new target to chase after.

The first hour alone is spent wading through faces you recognize from online but have no personal connection with, and you have to pretend that you’re grateful when they take enough interest and ask about the future of your company.

“We’ll probably stick to the production of GPUs for a while,” you say, yelling to be heard over the music and rumble of people. “We just signed a huge contract with Tesla, so we’ll be supplying all the hardware they need for their next products. They have a big need for AI software, and we’re one of the few companies that can build exactly what they need.”

“Wow, that’s very impressive.” The short-haired blonde woman suddenly throws herself at you, her nails digging into your bicep so hard you can feel the prick through your burgundy silk jacket.

“Thank you.” You’re not sure you’ve ever seen this woman before in your life and you wonder if she even understood half of what you were saying or she was just trying to get into your pants.

“I’m Carol, by the way. Do you want to get a drink?”

“I would never say no to a drink.” You let Carol lead you to the bar (that you are footing the bill for) and she orders for you, picking an old-fashioned cocktail for you. A decent choice, but if she had read your interview in The Chief Executive Magazine, she would have known that your favorite drink was actually a vodka martini. You join her at an empty table.

“So, what do you do for a living?” you ask out of politeness, taking a sip and letting the whiskey burn your throat.

“I’m an influencer,” Carol says. “I have one-point-seven million followers on Tik Tok right now. I mostly post fitness routines or travel vlogs. And I also stream video games on Twitch.”

“Ah.” Now it’s your turn to act like you’re impressed when you have no idea what she’s talking about.

Carol drones on about her next project, which involves a collaboration with another influencer you’ve never heard of. Your eyes scan the people walking by, looking for a new object of infatuation. It doesn’t take long until you make eye contact with a beautiful, redheaded woman, her voluptuous body hugged by an emerald green dress. Immediately, your heart rate spikes as you scan her up and down, not predatorily, but admiringly. The neckline of her dress plunges down to her belly button, a tasteful hint of her cleavage showing through, highlighted by a long silver necklace with a thin gold bar tassel.

You perk up, smoothing your hair back and puffing out your chest like a proud pigeon when she starts walking over.

“Congratulations,” the redhead says. “Your family must be very proud of you.”

“My dad didn’t want to give it to me,” you admit, completely oblivious to Carol’s pout as you instantly give your attention to this new woman. “But I convinced him the company would be in good hands.”

“I bet.”

“Can I get you a drink?” you ask, desperate to keep around for the conversation (and perhaps more).

“I should be the one treating you,” the redhead says. She takes the cocktail out of your hands and brings it to her lips. “Hmm. I didn’t think this was your taste,” she notes. “How does a vodka martini sound?”

You know instantly this is the woman you’re taking home with you tonight. “That sounds delightful.”

***********************************************************************

You ditch Carol without a second thought and follow the redhead back to the bar, where she picks up two vodka martinis. She brings you to a private booth, sitting so close to you that your knees are touching hers. You can almost feel her body heat through the fabric of your clothes.

“To Envy Industries’ long and prosperous future,” she says, raising her drink in a toast.

“Cheers.” You clink your glass to hers and drink half of it in one long sip, smiling in satisfaction. “I didn’t catch your name,” you say.

“Natasha.” It sparks a familiar memory, a name you’ve heard before. But she’s so intoxicating that you give it no second thought. Natasha is one of the most gorgeous women you’ve ever seen in your life and you can’t believe she’s sitting here talking to you and you alone.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” you say, formally offering her your hand. She shakes it, and you gently bring her hand up to your lips to kiss her knuckles.

“Likewise,” she says, crossing one perfectly toned leg over the other, her foot nudging the back of your calf. “Not to eavesdrop, but I overheard you mention a contract with Tesla. Say what you want about that company, but you can’t deny the evidence that they’re one of the highest valued companies in the world. I wouldn’t be surprised if Envy Industries is soon up there with them.”

“Exactly.” Your interest in this woman skyrockets, because you know she isn’t bullshitting you. She isn’t like Carol. She knows what she’s talking about.

“We’ve been trying to strike deals with the automotive industry for years,” Natasha goes on, “But you’ve beat us to it. And now that you’ve partnered up with Tesla, you’re basically unstoppable.”

“Not quite,” you correct, now unable to stop yourself from unraveling the schemes of your company’s next five years. “Our research on artificial intelligence is just getting started. We just applied for ten new patents within computing technologies and we’re on track to absolutely dominate the market for discrete graphics processing units by the end of the year.”

Natasha grins at your enthusiasm and you feel yourself blush in embarrassment. You know the media often labeled you as stupid, reckless, irresponsible, unfit to lead, and constantly bashed your sexual appetite, but you were all those things and a technology genius. Your father had built this company from the ground up, but you had been there alongside him the past six years. While everyone classified your promotion to CEO as nepotism, you felt you had rightfully earned it.

“I don’t know how you do it,” she comments.

“Well, it definitely wouldn’t be wise for the new CEO to be giving away all the secrets, now would it?” you chuckle, even though you’ve definitely already said more than you should’ve.

“Your success is no trade secret.” Natasha turns her whole body to face you. The attention she’s giving you is almost more than you can bear. Your heart pounds against your chest. No woman has ever made you this excited before. “But if you want, maybe we can go somewhere a little more private, where you can share whatever else you’d like.”

“Hmm.” It was rare for another woman to be so bold with you. But you’ve never lusted after another woman like Natasha before. Arousal heats up in your stomach as Natasha leans forward, resting her hand on your thigh and squeezing it teasingly. Her breath fans over your face and you can smell the vodka and her cherry lipstick. You lean forward to meet her, moving like you’re in a dream, fireworks sparking in the back of your head the moment your lips touch.

Suddenly, you’re overcome with the carnal desire to drag this woman up to your penthouse and have her squirming underneath you, crying out your name as she comes undone.

“Um, would you like to…” You can hardly think straight. “My room…apartment…is upstairs…if you want to…”

“Show me the way,” Natasha says, standing up and offering you her hand.

***********************************************************************

Your brain is swirling in a fog as you follow Natasha to the elevator. You don’t even register any of the people you pass, fully aware of the fact that someone will report this headline to the National Enquirer, at the very least. But all the worries of the future disappear the moment the elevator doors close and Natasha throws herself at you, her legs hooking around your narrow waist and her heels digging into the small of your back. Your hands support her supple bottom, squeezing in appreciation as her lips crash against yours in a desperate frenzy.

You stumble into the wall, smashing your hand onto the top floor button and feeling the elevator start to rise, but not fast enough.

“Lucky me,” Natasha pants between kisses. “Getting to go home with the newly-christened CEO of Envy Industries.”

“You’re the most beautiful woman here tonight,” you respond, heat rising between your legs. “Of course you were coming home with me.”

Natasha glows with the praise and pulls your head into her chest, where you instinctively lick and nip at the flesh of her exposed breasts and she keens at the attention. When the elevator doors open again, you stumble out with her still in your arms, your feet automatically taking you down the path to your apartment. Thankfully, your apartment door opens automatically when your key card is in range, so you’re able to kick it open with your foot, without having to put her down.

You carry her straight to the bedroom, dropping her on the freshly-changed sheets you had housekeeping put on after you were done with the two models from earlier. You can hardly remember your time with them and your body is practically vibrating in anticipation like you haven’t had sex in years. You crawl on top of Natasha, lowering yourself to kiss her again, this time with more passion and her arms snake over your broad back, pressing your body against hers.

“I need to get you out of this dress,” you pant, desperate for skin-to-skin contact with her.

“You first,” she says, releasing you as you sit up, yanking off your jacket and throwing it to the floor. You’re annoyed at your choice of shirt, a white button-up that has way too many buttons, as you impatiently pop them off one at a time and remove your bra. Natasha watches you with hunger in her eyes and you’ve never felt more proud to reveal yourself to another partner. The daily, painful 2-hour visits to the gym and strict adherence to a customized diet showed in your chiseled physique, your biceps bulging like you had baseballs under your skin, your perfect washboard abs, and your thighs were sturdier than tree trunks.

“Fuck,” she mutters, reaching up to run her hand across your abs like she can’t believe you’re really in front of her. “I could look at you all day.”

It’s a common reaction most people have, but it definitely heats you up more when it comes from Natasha. “Your turn, gorgeous.”

She sits up and turns around so you can access the zipper of her dress. You sweep her hair to the side, stealing a kiss to her neck because you really can’t help yourself. Natasha hums in appreciation and you lower her zipper slowly. Her dress pools at her waist like a glimmering green puddle. She isn’t wearing a bra so your hands immediately gravitate to cup her breasts, and she arches her back against your bare chest.

“Are you gonna fuck me the same way you do to every girl you have in here?” she asks, placing one of her hands over yours and guiding it down her stomach, where your fingers part through her soaking folds.

“If you want me to,” you say, pressing deeper into her and she whines at your touch. “But I’ll give you whatever you want.” Normally, you enjoy being in full control in the bedroom, but you are absolutely willing to give that up if it pleases Natasha.

She suddenly pushes your hand away from her center; you can still feel traces of her stickiness on your fingers. “Do you have a strap? I want to ride you.”

Your stomach flips at the thought of her on top of you, grinding down on you until she finishes. Her heaving bosom in your face for you to suck and kiss while she enjoys the orgasm you gave her.

“Yeah, let me grab it.” While you launch yourself off the bed to go fishing around your nightstand drawer, Natasha nudges her dress to the floor and delicately removes her long necklace, settling back comfortably on your king-sized bed while she waits for you. You take off your pants and pull the harness over your waist, turning back to the mouth-watering sight of her naked and ready for your taking. Her body is toned and curved in all the right places: clearly, she respected her body as much as you did to yours. There are few things you love more than a woman who takes care of herself.

You climb back onto the bed and Natasha pounces on you while you’re still getting into position, holding onto your biceps to pin you down. You catch sight of her glimmering wetness as she drags herself along your abs, pressing back against your cock until it rubs against her butt. You reach over to grab the bottle of lube always present on your nightstand and squirt a generous glob onto your strap, not that it looks like Natasha will need it.

“Look how wet you are. You’ve been waiting for this all night, sweetheart?” you tease, your hands running up and down her sides. Natasha takes you by surprise when she shoves you back against the headboard.

“Shut up and let me fuck you,” she growls, her voice dangerously dropping an octave. Natasha lifts herself up to line herself with the head of your cock and slides down in one move. The slick noise as it fills her is downright sinful. Your big hands wrap around her tiny waist, guiding her to bounce in an aggressive rhythm as the two of you watch your cock disappear inside of her.

“Fuck, Y/N,” she moans, throwing her head back, red hair spilling over her shoulders. “That feels so good.”

“Look how well you’re taking me,” you praise, your hips jerking up to match her rhythm. Even though you can’t necessarily feel it, you swear her pussy is clenching around the toy, greedily sucking you in and requiring physical effort to pull out. Your own clit is throbbing as the toy bumps it every time Natasha slams down on your thighs.

“Deeper, babe. Go deeper,” Natasha begs, moving her hands from your shoulders to the headboard, grabbing it so firmly you hear the wood crack. You change the angle of your hips, punching them up to satisfy her command. The bed frame creaks and shakes; you know your father would be unhappy to hear he has to order you a new one so soon, but you can’t be bothered to care right now.

“Fuck, right there. That’s it,” Natasha moans, rolling her hips with such fluidity it makes your stomach clench. She looks down at you, admiring the flex of your muscles as you do your best to please her, a singular bead of sweat running over your collarbone and sliding down between your breasts.

“I’m close. I’m almost fucking there,” she warns, her hips beginning to lose their rhythm. But you keep your intense pace, until your abs are cramping and you’re certain there are bruises on your thighs. Your own arousal burns like a ball of white-hot fire and you so desperately want to make this woman cum you will gladly ignore the ache of your own orgasm for hers.

“You’re fucking me too well, baby. I’m gonna lose it,” Natasha pants and the praise almost breaks your control. She throws her head back as she finishes and you bury your face in her heaving chest, tasting the sweat on her skin and sucking one of her nipples into your mouth. Her hand abandons the headboard to tangle in your hair, yanking almost painfully at your roots while you feel her cum spill onto your lap. She pushes your head away once she’s done, your lips parting from her nipple with a string of saliva, and lifts herself off your cock. The two of you are panting in unison, while you’re still fighting the simmer of arousal in your gut.

“Hmm, that was nice. Do you normally let your partner finish first?” she asks, resting her hands on your chest again. “I didn’t think you were the type.”

Your face burns in embarrassment because she’s not wrong. “Um…no,” you admit, knowing full well you could lie, but you feel like she’ll be able to see through it.

Natasha smirks. “Such a gentlewoman with me,” she says, bending over to kiss you, this time much more softly than before.

“Only for you,” you murmur back, shocked at how whipped you already are for her.

“You want me to help you finish?” Natasha asks, pushing the strap aside to brush her fingers across your hot center. Your hips jerk off the bed, almost launching Natasha into the air. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she giggles, climbing off your lap and helping you pull the strap off your waist. You’re practically frozen in anticipation, watching with bated breath as Natasha scoots herself down the bed and lowers her head between your legs.

You melt at the feeling of her mouth against your center, perfectly hot and wet. Your back arches off the bed when her tongue glides through your folds, lapping up the mixture of body fluids like it’s some kind life-saving elixir.

“Shit, baby, that feels amazing,” you moan, burying one of your hands in her red tresses, motioning with your hips that you want her deeper. She obliges by wrapping her lips around your clit and giving it a few hard sucks that have you seeing white stars behind your eyelids. You let go of her hair, afraid you’ll tear it out and grab onto the Egyptian cotton sheets tightly. Her tongue pushes into you and you swear you convulse around it, already leaking into her mouth when she’s only just started to go down on you.

Natasha’s arms wrap around your powerful thighs, trying to force them apart as you close them around her head. You don’t mean to put her in awkward, even dangerous position, but you can’t think about anything other than the pulsing in your center, soothed and encouraged by the heat of Natasha’s mouth. You dig your heels into the mattress to prevent yourself from bouncing across the bed at the rocking motion your body had adopted to maximize your pleasure. Every time her tongue slips into you, the muscles in your stomach contract so sharply it almost hurts, and when she laps at your clit, the stimulation is so great you feel immediately dizzy.

“Natasha,” you pant, unable to hold out any longer. “I’m gonna…Please let me…”

She presses into you with even more enthusiasm than before and your body seizes as you release yourself into her mouth. Natasha eagerly collects all your slick, her red lipstick smeared on the insides of your thighs.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you moan, feeling your high is going to last forever. But just the sensations start to fizz, you realize Natasha still has her iron grip on your legs, keeping them spread apart.

“I want another,” she demands, in a sultry tone that almost pulls the second orgasm from you right there.

“Natasha,” you whine, fearing you are too sensitive to deliver her wishes. You twist your body back and forth, half-heartedly trying to free yourself. But Natasha won’t let you, lowering her head to your heat and taking what she wants. Overly stimulated, every muscle in your body goes rigid as fireworks of pleasure, bordering the line of painful, explode inside of you. Natasha’s tongue somehow reaches even deeper than she had the first time, the tip pressing against your front ridged wall and you lose it for the second time in minutes.

“Oh, fuck!” you cry, your back arching off the bed but Natasha holds your waist down, determined to not let a drop of your essence go to waste. Your head is spinning and your body is like a live wire of excitement, twitching and trembling until you have no more energy left and and you melt into a limp mess.

Natasha kisses up your abs, between your breasts and licks at the column of your sweaty throat. Her lips finally connect with yours and you can taste a hint of yourself mixed with hers. You can’t wait to taste her straight from the source, but it’s going to take a bit of time to find the strength to move after two back-to-back orgasms. She wraps her arms around your torso, nuzzling into the side of your chest and inhaling deeply.

There is a long, but not uncomfortable silence as you two of you find your breath.

“I’m not letting you leave until you sit on my face,” you finally say. Natasha looks up at you with a satisfied grin.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she says, crawling up so she can do just that.

***********************************************************************

The moment Natasha made eye contact with you, she knew you were done for. You were far too predictable. She knew exactly the kind of woman you chased after. She knew what she needed to say to catch your attention, to convince you that she deserved a private moment with you.

You were too easy.

When you were so busy looking at her lips, trying to figure out when the right moment to kiss her was, you didn’t notice her take your phone out of your pocket, plug a flash drive into the charging slot, and return it back to your pocket in record time.

As you carry her in the elevator, your face buried in her breasts while she slips a tiny audio recorder into the pocket of your blazer. Through the fog of pure lust for you, Natasha struggles to but succeeds in making a mental map of your apartment. Where your office is, how many computers you have.

After numerous orgasms, she’s sufficiently fucked your brains out and cuddled with you long enough for you to pass out into an impossibly deep slumber, she gets up and heads into your office. She doesn’t need more than five minutes to hack into your devices and steal all the data saved on them. She chuckles to herself at how easy the task is; if she had known it would’ve been this simple and enjoyable, she would’ve come after you a long time ago.

Natasha gathers all her things and excuses herself from your apartment without a good-bye.

***********************************************************************

DAY 2

When you wake up the next morning, your mind a haze from the absolute debauchery that occurred the previous night. You rub your eyes and roll over, finding yourself naked and alone in bed. There is a deep soreness in your body, in almost every muscle, and some you haven’t felt for a long time. Natasha’s scent of vanilla and cherry lingers, but she’s nowhere to be found.

“Fuck,” you grumble, reaching for your phone on the nightstand. It’s been blowing up with notifications, which is a little unusual, but you assume it’s mostly from friends still congratulating you on your promotion. You open a text from your best friend and work partner, Tony.

From Tony: You fucked up, dude.

He included a link to a TMZ article. You click on it, half-wondering if it’ll send you to some troll site. The headline reads:

New CEO of Envy Industries Y/N spotted getting cozy with Black Widow Corp. heiress Natasha Romanoff

Everything clicks to you now.

“Oh, fuck.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: To be continued? 👀

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader

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night-raven-tattler · 4 months

Text

What's your ideal type?

Summary: What would be the best traits for their potential partner to have?

Characters: Octavinelle dorm (Azul, Jade, Floyd) × GN!Reader (separate, romantic)

Other parts of the series: Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia

Warnings: none

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Azul's ideal type would be...

Someone witty. Azul is a smart guy who likes being entertained. While his way of achieving that is less... for lack of better words, aggressive than the tweels', he enjoys a good mental game. If you can carry a good conversation with him, he'll remember you.

Someone who doesn't pressure him into making decisions. He is someone whose independence is very important to him. On top of that, his signature spell literally revolves around choice as a concept, so he understand the importance of it. Someone as stubborn as Azul will keep his distance if anyone tries to influence his free will.

Someone who appreciates music. He's a pianist and a good singer, which are skills that require a lot of practice and hard work, something Azul is known for. He will appreciate any genuine praise, but if you ask him to teach you more about music or, Sevens forbid, you want to duet with him, all of his three hearts are yours.

Someone who doesn't mock him, not even when teasing him. If you really know Azul, you know how bitter he is towards the people who have brought suffering onto him. The words they said are ingrained into his brain, controlling his choices for years after they were spoken to him. I'm not saying to constantly uplift him, but bringing up old wounds will only push Azul away with low chances of getting any closer again.

『••✎••』

Jade's ideal type would be...

Someone whose next move he can't accurately predict. It's kind of easy to catch the attention of any of the tweels, but it's also easy to lose it. The key to keeping Jade's eyes on you is to make him believe he's had you all figured out, then do something unexpected. Being a little unpredictable, even when you think you're outside of Jade's vision, will pique his curiosity.

Someone who plays along his little tricks and schemes. Jade is not an honest person: he always has some ulterior motive, hidden behind carefully worded questions and statements that he uses to poke and prod for information. If you try to help him and his twisted game of detective, he will certainly find you amusing, if not helpful.

Someone who goes exploring with him. Just like his brother, Jade has a fascination for the land above water, and he loves learning things about the fauna and flora. Someone who understands his appreciation for nature and genuinely embraces his curiosity will have a bit more of his appreciation.

Someone who doesn't try to understand him. Jade is very careful not to reveal too much about himself. Being awfully private with himself, he won't open up to just anyone. So he will appreciate someone who doesn't try to pry into his business too much. At the end of the day, Jade can be many things: a bartender, a vice housewarden, an informant, but he'd like to be seen as "just Jade" sometimes.

『••✎••』

Floyd's ideal type would be...

Someone who isn't intimidated by him. It's a surefire way to catch his attention. Even if you just pretend to not be intimidated by him, he'll stick around and try to push all of your buttons, test your limits, squeeze all that he finds interesting out of you.

Someone willing to teach him more about land folks. Everyone knows that Floyd has quite the interest about land folks and their customs. He wants to know more, so don't be afraid to throw random land people things towards him every once in a while. If it's something he didn't know about, he'll tell you to prove it. Congrats, he won't leave your side for a couple of hours.

Someone who doesn't compare him to Jade. Since he's the more polite and responsible one, Floyd gets compared to his brother pretty often, and some people even assume he's the younger twin. It is exhausting to have his other half be given as example on how to behave time and time again. If you reassure him he doesn't have to be like his twin, that being Floyd is just fine, it'll pull at his heartstrings.

Someone who takes his mood swings in stride. From people thinking he is a threat to people who just find him annoying and hard to work with, no one really takes Floyd's mood swings seriously. That doesn't mean he'll open up if you asked him "are you okay" and "what happened". Still, it would be the first time someone outside of his family reacted like that to him. It will baffle him, in a good way.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader

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lydiimae · 25 days

Text

The stars, the moon

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

18+ MDI!

Warnings: Talk of drinking, sexist old ideas about women, talk of sex, Anthony being a cutie shhh, oral sex, penetrative sex, dirty talk, body worship (f receiving), heavy praise, lovemaking more than hardcore sex oopsies

A.N: YOU GUYS ARE SO SWEET TO ME ISTG T-T the love on my first two fics is so heartwarming. i'm so very glad you liked them both so much ^-^ Benny and Bridgerton as a whole are both so very important to me so i'm glad i did them both well. anyways my loves, this is an Anthony fic that i hope i can do as well as i did Ben. i was listening to Cosmic Love by Florence and The Machine and it gave me this idea! soooo here is an incredibly fluffy, (and smutty hehe) love filled Ant fic hehe<3 enjoy and thank you again <3 p.s that scene the gif is from sends my mind into a spiral CONSTANTLY my roman empire fr p.p.s I FINALLY GOT DIVIDERS, so now my fics will look a little cleaner i hope hehe >_<

Growing up next to the Bridgertons had been fun and eventful, to say the very least. You were there through every trial and tribulation their family had gone through, and them with yours.

You and your three sisters had always gotten along with the seven siblings. Being the youngest and most... rambunctious of them you had gotten along with Eloise and Benedict the most. They had views of marriage and duty that were similar to yours, and when you were younger you and Benedict would spend hours making doodles on the walls of the gardens at your estate.

Your sisters, who were much more of the traditional women you would often find in the ton, tended to be more akin to the eldest Bridgerton brother and sister. Daphne and Anthony, however kind and loving they both were, were always too strict or, in Daphne's case, too proper for your liking.

You had always thought of Anthony as the moon. He thrived in darkness and was often gone before you even noticed he was there. You never knew why he left balls early, or why you spotted him with that opera singer in the deepest corners of gardens or tucked away in libraries.

Until you grew up, that is. The first time you snuck out of the confines of your room was when you were ten and eight, right after the first ball of your first social season. Benedict had insisted on you sneaking out the window of your bedroom so you could tag along with him to a party a fellow artist was throwing, and you, out of pure curiosity, obliged.

You got there and had your first everything while Benedict was painting, or so he claimed, in another room. You kissed the lord, whose name you cannot remember to this day, and then you went beyond that. Sex. It was wonderful, you decided, and from then on you had much more of it.

Anthony was perceptive, he noticed the change in your behavior and one night even decided to ask Benedict about it. Benedict being Benedict told him everything in his usual carefree manner, not thinking twice about it. Anthony reacted quite strangely however, he just... turned on his heel and walked into his study, locking himself in for hours.

He avoided you at all costs from then on. It was strange, but then again, he was the moon. The moon cannot be out forever.

Anthony had always thought of you as the stars, a happy, mischievous young woman who thrived in the dark. You provided a light to every room you walked into that was too great for anyone to look away from. You were intricate, difficult to read and figure out, and yet you were also so intriguing that every man wanted to do just that.

You were also incredibly mischievous, he knew that from the moment you were born. Being eight years older, and a close family friend, Anthony was one of the first who got to meet you. You had always had that sparkle in your eye, like you were in on this grand plan that no one else was.

When you got older, it only got worse. You were constantly getting in trouble, whether that be drawing on your garden's brick walls with his brother or reading books about math or, fittingly, astronomy. Your father always described you as boyish, to which he would have to agree. You got into fencing when you were ten and two and immediately had a knack for it. When you were six and ten, you snuck off with Benedict and got taught how to hunt.

He was never attracted to your sisters as they were too... boring for his taste. They had interests in things like the latest fashion trends, or hairstyles, and he was sure that none of them had ever glanced at a book. It was quite comforting to know, that because of your foolish ways and thinking, he would never be attracted to you either. Or so he thought.

You were wearing a light blue dress when you entered your first ball, your arm tucked snugly with your father's. Your hair was pinned up more elegantly than he had ever seen it, a few of the still unruly, wavy strands fluttering in the breeze that your white fan made. Stunningly gorgeous in every way, and so ladylike. It was strange.

He had almost assured himself that he would never feel this way towards any woman like you, after all, his list of requirements for the next Viscountess was long and specific, to say the least. Yet there you were, walking towards his family, and he was very much sure he was attracted to you.

So when he noticed the jewelry you started using to hide the dark marks on your neck and the silly excuses you would use to leave balls early, it was worrying. He asked Benedict and his worst fears were made a reality, your innocence was gone. You were loose, in his mind. He could not, no would not, be attracted to a woman without her maidenhead. He refused.

The only way he could avoid that attraction was to avoid you at all costs, which is exactly what he did. He excused himself from every room you walked into, and every conversation. On the rare occasion that you somehow managed to worm yourself into a conversation with him, however, he gave short answers and cold glares.

His heart ached when he noticed your light dim after he left, but then again you were the stars. All stars have to burn out someday.

You found his insistence on completely avoiding you to be quite tiresome, after all, you considered him to be like a brother. An annoying, headstrong, arrogant, prick of a brother but a brother nonetheless.

You look over your shoulder to where he is talking to a young debutante, wishing that he would at least glance over. You would never admit it to yourself, but after his company waned you missed it quite a lot. You could talk to Benedict or Eloise, sure, but there was something about annoying Anthony that made your heart flutter and your cheeks flush.

"Miss L/N, are you listening?" The lord, who you were supposed to be listening to, asks. You quickly turn back to him and part your lips to make an excuse, but quickly think better of it. "No, my lord. I apologize, my mind seems to be running from me tonight." You mutter with a soft smile. He nods in turn before continuing to speak about his latest hunting trip, in which you have absolutely no interest.

You excuse yourself when he is done rambling and make your way toward the Viscount, wanting to finally know the real reason why he has made it his life's mission to avoid you. You wish, so desperately, to see the moon again.

He sees you coming and his heart tightens, you look as beautiful as always. You are wearing dark blue, a gorgeous dress he thinks, and your hair is done up just how he likes it. You have on gold jewelry, which sparkles in the low candlelight with every step you take.

He should talk to you, he really should, and yet he cannot bring himself to. You are not the kind of woman he wishes to make the next Viscountess, not even close to checking off any of the boxes he has on his long list for what a woman should be.

So, instead, he settles for leading the young woman he is speaking with to the dance floor. He passes you without a word but falters momentarily when he catches a whiff of your perfume. Your scent, even.

You had always smelled, however strange it might sound, so comforting. Your family's colors were a light purple, the crest having two bunches of lavender flowers on it. You smelled the part, always having some semblance of lavender to you that wafted through the room whenever you entered. It wasn't strong, no, but it was just enough to get his heart racing. It wasn't just lavender that made it so intoxicating, there was something else there. Something that he could only describe as just... you. He smiles to himself at the many fond memories that come with it.

He catches the young woman looking at him in confusion and quickly puts on a straight face, continuing to walk her to the dance floor, but not before noticing the look of despondency on your face. His heart aches, but it must be done. He could not let himself fall for you, no matter how much he longed to see the brightness of the stars again.

Your heart breaks when he walks past you with nothing but a faint semblance of a smile, and for whatever reason, you feel yourself tear up. You wonder if you had done something wrong, or said something in a passing conversation that had rubbed him the wrong way. Perhaps even entertained a man he had trouble with. Whatever it was, you did not like the unfamiliar feeling his avoidance brought.

Something that you had always hidden from everyone, including yourself, was your feelings. You felt no need to be a woman who expressed love openly, nor a woman who got teary at the slightest inconvenience. It is why you liked the parties you went to, sex and alcohol were wonderful to drown out feelings that you would rather not feel. Something else you had always hidden or shoved down, was your feelings for Anthony.

He was gorgeous, that much was obvious, what with his grey eyes and his thick brown hair. The things that you didn't like, such as his ignorant views of women, or his want to always be the best, were often drowned out by the fact that the man was extremely loving and protective of those he cared about. Not only that, but he was like you in that he was truly sensitive when he did not try and shove it down. He made you want to sing his praises from every balcony in London, to profess your love in front of all of the ton so everyone could see that he was yours.

You realize you have been standing in the same spot for what has to be at least five minutes now, and that a tear that had escaped in your reminiscing has now made it down your cheek. You quickly walk out to a balcony and lean on the railing, and for once, you allow yourself to cry.

He finds you after his dance with the incredibly boring debutante he decided to occupy himself with. He didn't want to find you, but his feet automatically found themselves to you. As if something deep inside him was naturally drawn to you and your stupid free-spirited nature.

He crowds around your back. "Is everything alright?" He whispers and is completely taken aback when he sees your face. You look up at him with tears rolling down your cheeks. It was surprising to say the very least as he cannot remember the last time he saw you cry. "My God, Y/N, what happened?" He asks, placing a hesitant hand on your shoulder.

"Why do you hate me?" You whisper back, and he is even more surprised than before. Hate? God he could never hate you, sure he avoided you, but he could never truly hate anything about you. No matter how much he tried.

He was just standing there like he had not been avoiding you for the past two months. Like he had not ignored your every attempt to speak with him, like he had not completely shattered your soul. It made you so angry that you could not stop the foolish words slipping past your lips.

"It is as if I have committed a cardinal sin, as if I am some heathen you cannot stand to be around and not a woman you grew up with." You say, taking a deep breath as heartbreak shifts to anger. "It is not fair. I have wracked every corner of my memory trying to figure out what I have done wrong and still, I turn up with nothing. I..." You falter and turn to look up at the stars. "You are so distant. I find myself aching without you, Anthony. Like a piece of my soul has broken off with your disappearance and is with you for eternity." You whisper, closing your eyes briefly before turning back to him.

"I ask you again, why do you hate me? What have I done?" You plead, searching his eyes for any semblance of his old self. His eyes widen in response and he takes one of your hands. "I do not hate you. God Y/N, how could I ever hate you?" He breathes and your heart flutters at the look in his eyes. As if you are the only woman on earth. He has returned back to you. The moon has risen again.

"I... I have tried to hate you, yes, but every time you are near something in me longs to touch you in ways that would make any lady blush. I hate that you make me feel this way, so foolishly in love that I can barely form a coherent thought, that the Viscount I am becomes but a memory, but I could never hate you." He confesses, bringing his hands to your waist.

Your eyes water as he continues. "You are a loose woman, or so I so foolishly tried to make myself believe. I ignorantly put that label upon you so I could have a reason to not profess from every rooftop in London how much I adore you and I can never forgive myself for it." He whispers, wiping the tears that have somehow escaped your eyes without your knowledge. "I will never be able to profess how sorry I am, but I can hope that in time you can forgive me for how foolish I have been." He whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

"How long?" Is all you can manage to croak out in return to his beautiful confession, resting your hands atop his shoulders as your eyes flutter shut. "Since I was a young man, darling. Far too long I have kept it from you." He whispers back as your heart flutters at the title he has given you. "I have loved you since I was a girl." You whisper back. "So I suppose we are both fools." You grin.

He chuckles at that, his hands rubbing small patterns into the small of your back. "Always the witty one, hm? You are truly as bright and as mischievous as the stars, my love." Your heart hammers in the stars, at the way he calls you his love but even more than that, he thinks you to be the stars. "You and I have similar minds, Ant. I always thought you were like the moon, so serious and so attuned to darkness. Yet, so beautiful." You confess, opening your eyes to look into his own. Your cheeks flush at the sight that lies before you.

He is grinning, as if you had just given him the world. He leans in and presses a sweet kiss to your lips, to which you eagerly return as your eyes close and one of your gloved hands cups his cheeks. He pulls away after a moment. "The moon is nothing without the stars." He whispers, and you smile softly. "I shall ask your father for your hand come tomorrow if you let me." He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your brow.

Your heart flutters and you cup his cheeks. "I would love nothing more than to marry you, Anthony Bridgerton." You whisper and he grins, pressing his lips to yours once more. This kiss is more intense than the first, more confident as he knows that you are now officially his. You wish for nothing more than to melt into him, become his both body and mind for the rest of your days. The thought sends shivers down your spine, making your core heat up at the thought of finally sharing your most intimate self with the man who has plagued your thoughts for years.

As if reading your mind he pulls back, but only just. "Might I invite you back to my bedroom, my star?" He whispers, dipping his head down to press a kiss to your neck. You let out a shaky breath at the feeling and nod eagerly. "Please do." You whisper back and he grins, straightening back up and grabbing your hand before pulling you out to where the carriages are. Not before muttering something to Benedict, who smirks playfully and winks at the two of you in return.

One carriage ride full of open-mouthed kisses and love marks later and you are getting lifted out of the carriage and carried into the Bridgerton estate. You had so many fond memories here, you are elated that you would have the privilege of raising a family in the big estate. The thought of a family with Anthony makes your chest feel tight with emotion and you bury your face in the crook of his neck to calm yourself.

He notices the change of emotion as he carries you through the front door, ignoring the many questioning glances the both of you receive from the servants who still linger in the hallways, and kisses the top of your head. "What is it, darling?" He murmurs in your ear as he walks up the stairs, toward his bedroom.

"I am only being sensitive as I envision our future that I have for so long ached for." You whisper back, pressing a kiss to his neck to assure him that nothing is truly wrong. He groans a bit and smiles down at you as he ducks into his bedroom and places you on the bed. "It shall be a grand one. One filled with happiness and light, I assure you." He hums as he locks the door before climbing over you and peppering your face with kisses, which makes you giggle softly.

He moves his hands to your hair, taking out all of the intricately placed pins so he can see it in the state he loves the most, untamed and unruly, just like you. He runs his hands through your hair once he has it down, pressing kisses down your neck and to your collarbone which he bites. You whine softly at the feeling, but more so at the fact that you know he is going to leave marks. The thought of parading around a ball with his lovebites on your skin makes your cunt dampen and your thighs rub together in an attempt to relieve the ache that settles in your core.

He feels the movements of your body below him and groans as your knee brushes against his clothed cock accidentally, making him harden further than he already has. He continues to suck on the sensitive skin of your neck as his hands move under you. He pulls you up to a sitting position and presses his lips to yours, reveling in the soft noises he draws from you as his hands move to your back to work on the buttons that hold your dress up.

His tongue slides into your mouth and he lets out a groan as he exposes your bare back, the choice you made to forgo any undergarments becoming the smartest one you made all day. He makes quick work of your dress, parting from your lips as he throws it across the room. "Christ." He growls when he sits back and gazes at your naked body.

Your nipples are peaked from both the cold air of the room and the arousal caused by the way he is gazing down at you. The look of pure desire in his eyes makes you flood down your thighs, which he picks up on instantly. He grins, almost a cocky grin, before removing his clothes from the upper half of his body.

He bends down when he is bare-chested and kisses from your collarbone, down to your right breast. He sucks on the soft skin just to the side of your hardened nipple, making your hips cant up and into his, a whine escaping your lips. He chuckles deeply and moves a hand to yours, so you can have something to hang onto, the other moving to hold your hip down.

He pulls up briefly and rests his chin on your chest, gazing up at you adoringly. "You are perfect, Y/N. Every mark, every blemish, every imperfection is so gorgeous. So perfect for me." He murmurs and you flush, squeezing his hand in yours as a silent thank you as you are unsure if you could even form a sentence now. "Mine." He murmurs with a soft smile before returning his attention to your breasts.

He takes your nipple into his mouth and you cry out at the feeling of his tongue swirling around the bud. You squeeze his hand and your back arches up into him, making him groan. He pushes you back down, all while his mouth sucks and swirls at your sensitive nipple, and rubs soothing circles on your hip with his thumb.

After a moment, he moves to your other breast, giving that one just as much attention. You whine as he bites down softly before pulling up and beginning to mark each of your breasts. He lets go of your hip and smears his hand down your thigh, gently parting your legs as he kisses down your stomach.

You gasp as he gives a kiss to your naval and look down just as he flashes a cheeky grin. He continues his trail of kisses right down to your patch of hair, your free hand grasping at the sheets while the other squeezes his. You cry out when he licks a stripe up your slit, his tongue pressing onto your swollen clit.

He takes the sensitive bud into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it slowly, his hand moving back to your hips when you whine and try to grind against him. You roll your head back, pressing it into the pillow. You get a whiff of his scent and it sends a zing of pleasure to your abused clit just as he moves his mouth down to your swollen hole to drink from you like a man starved.

You moan into his pillow, taking the fabric into your mouth and sucking as pleasure ripples through your entire body. He moves his mouth back to your clit as he pushes one of his fingers into your body, groaning at how tight you are. You cry out, the sound still muffled by his pillow, at the feeling of his finger and the vibrations his noises send through your body.

He adds another finger and begins to curl them into your walls, hitting that spongey spot that makes you scream. Your toes curl as he pumps his fingers in and out of your body in tune with the swirling of his tongue against your clit. You finally take your face out of his pillow. "Close... Fuck please please please, Anthony." You babble as you begin to see stars. You come screaming his name, his fingers gripping your hip so hard you're sure you will be marked there too.

He cleans you up with his tongue before returning to your lips and giving you a swift, but sweet, kiss on your lips. He sits up and slowly rids himself of his trousers, his cock standing proud against his stomach. The sight makes you mewl and spread your legs even wider in anticipation of him filling you until his tip meets your womb.

He settles between your legs and takes both of your hands in his, pressing his forehead to yours. "I love you, Y/N." He murmurs. "I love you, Anthony." You return, and his lips are on yours. He slowly pushes his cock into your body, groaning into your mouth as you moan into his. He bottoms out and lets you adjust, kissing down your neck to your shoulder.

You gently push your hips down as a signal that he can move, and he grins against your skin. He begins to slowly rock in and out of your body, groaning at the noises he draws from your cunt. "Faster, Ant. Please." You gust into his hair, squeezing his hands tight in your own.

He does not need to be told twice. He begins to slam into your body, making your toes curl as you scream out. He continues his brutal pace, the sound of body meeting body filling the bedroom. He presses his forehead to yours just as your eyes shut. "Look at me." He whispers, stalling for a moment. "I want to see how good I make you feel. I've waited far too long for you to hide, my love." He breathes, and you open your eyes.

He gives that stupid arrogant smirk before beginning to thrust into you just as hard as before as if he never stopped. Your mouth hangs ajar, your mind too focused on the feeling of his cock to even try and stop the moans that flow freely from your mouth.

He moves a hand down your stomach, his thumb finding your clit and circling to the rhythm of his thrusts. He growls when you clench around his length and moan his name. He tucks his head into the crook of your neck. "Come with me." He whispers, biting down on the skin.

The action sends you over the edge. You come for the second time, screaming his name and he follows soon after, painting your insides with his seed. He works you through your orgasm before pulling out and nuzzling your neck.

After a moment he climbs off of you and saunters to his bathroom, leaving you dazed on the bed. You turn your head and press your face into his pillow once more, letting his scent calm you down. He returns a moment later and laughs warmly at the sight. You blush at the noise and look up at him. "Funny that," He says, gesturing to his pillow as he cleans your thighs with the washcloth he brought out. "I did the same thing today." He grins.

"Mmm. When was that, hm? Did you sneak into my bedroom?" You tease and he grins, shaking his head as he places the washcloth on the bedside and crawls into bed. "No, though I am flattered you would think I would be so bold." He hums, pulling you under the covers with him and taking you into his arms.

You smile softly and bury your face into his neck, closing your eyes. "I did it when I walked past you at the ball. The young woman I was talking to thought I went mad. I had to stop and think of all of the fond memories I have of you." He murmurs as he rests his head atop yours, kissing it softly before closing his eyes as well.

You smile softly at the thought of him stopping mid-step just to think of you. It warms your soul. "I love you." You whisper, slowly nodding off to the sound of his heartbeat.

"And I love you, my star." He whispers before following you into a deep slumber.

The moon truly cannot thrive without the stars.

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