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#probably because that's when I decided I wanted a career in music
steddieas-shegoes · 1 month
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Country singer Steve Harrington, who has always leaned more into the pop country side of things (think Wanted by Hunter Hayes), but wants his third album to be more true to old school country roots.
His label agrees but only if he works with Eddie Munson, a rock star who had to leave the spotlight when he got kicked out of his band for, well, rockstar behavior gone too far.
Steve isn't amused, especially because he doesn't care for metal music or rock star shenanigans. He was "raised better" and doesn't think Eddie could sit down and write songs with actual emotion and feeling.
Cue long songwriting sessions where Eddie is trying his hardest to be on his best behavior because he knows this is his last shot at being taken seriously, and Steve being surprised every time Eddie proves that he's talented as a songwriter and musician, well outside the scope of just metal and rock.
They write a song that they're both so proud of, Steve asks if he'll record it with him just for fun. The released version would just be Steve.
Eddie agrees.
It's an incredible duet, something country music has needed forever, but Eddie doesn't want that version out there.
The label genuinely accidentally releases their version instead of the Steve only version. As soon as they realize, they remove it from official places, but it's too late.
Fans have already heard it and have gone crazy over it, begging them to let the radio play this version, begging for this version to be available for streaming. The Steve version is great, but it doesn't have the emotion that's laced in the tone of them singing together.
Eddie finally gives in when he sees how happy Steve is about the reaction to it.
But the label decides they want them to tour together, have Eddie work as his opening act, perform his acoustic songs that haven't been officially released anywhere. Eddie can't do it.
He can't go back into that lifestyle. He couldn't do it to his band, who made him promise that he'd come back to them when he got his shit straight. He can't do it to his fans, who stuck by him through some rough shit, but probably wouldn't support a fucking country music career. He definitely can't do it to Steve, who deserves to have someone with him who can be trusted not to go off the deep end.
So he runs. He hides. His uncle welcomes him home, congratulates him on finally embracing his country roots.
It doesn't take long for Steve to find him.
Because he'd been more honest with Steve than he'd ever been with anyone. He told him about his childhood, his Uncle Wayne, his struggle to make it. He told him about his worse struggle when he did make it, how he got in with the wrong people, the wrong things. Prioritized the lifestyle more than his own life.
Of course Steve knew where he'd run to.
Of course Steve came to remind him what his life could be if he allowed himself to find new priorities.
Steve's lips were pretty persuasive, but not nearly as persuasive as his promises to remind him what he could have if he kept his life his priority.
"But what if I let you down?"
"You won't."
"But-"
"No. You won't. You're gonna do amazing things for yourself. And I'm gonna be there to see it happen. That's all."
And he was.
They co-wrote Steve's entire album while Eddie worked on recording his own original songs. He liked that it was an old school rock and roll feel, some blues, some country, some hints of metal sneaking in on a couple songs.
He called his band to come help him with a song, hesitant to even ask, but they came. Of course they came.
He called his Uncle Wayne to play banjo on a song, worried that he wouldn't like the heavier electric guitar notes over it. Of course he loved being involved.
When their tour started, he let himself actually feel nervous.
But instead of running, he looked at the man who supported him through it, even when his own career was on the line.
Of course Steve was there.
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steddiewithachance · 5 months
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Vampire Pancakes
A response to this writing prompt. Thought it was too cute, had to write it! @dwobbitfromtheshire
🥞🫐
No one really knows what to do with Eddie right now. Everyone is jittery around him, going so far as to hold their breath when he so much as twitches. Even Dustin is squinting at him with calculating eyes; he's analyzing Eddie for threat.
Eddie will continue to courteously ignore the hand that Nancy is keeping stationed on her belt conveniently close to the little pistol everyone knows she's hiding. It doesn't matter that Eddie helped them kill Vecna, or that he saved Baby Byers' life. It doesn't matter when he has sharp teeth, dark eyes, and a thirst for blood. He can't blame 'em for being scared.
Eddie thinks about his dad. Wonders if even Al would see Eddie as a monster now.
Eddie got picked on a lot as a kid and he'd often come home from school tired and weepy. Al would look up from the couch in that black tank top he always wore. He'd set down whatever he was smoking to pat the spot next to him.
"What happened Ed? Was some little shithead mean to ya?"
Eddie would nod and slump into his father's side, eyes burning from the spicy, smokey air. When Eddie pressed his face into his dad's arm, Al would pull back and pat his head with sorrowful eyes. Al didn't really know how to comfort a kid or maybe he thought that being distant was in Eddie's best interest.
"You're too soft, Ed. Ya gotta make those kids think you can pack a punch. Chin up, eyes mean, shoulders back. Make 'em intimidated, make 'em fear ya."
So like any kid who thinks their dad's word is law, Eddie listened, or tried his best at least. But his dad never said that mean eyes, dark clothes, and loud music would get him accused of witchcraft by a bunch'a angry jocks and chased straight into hell.
Now his sheepies -his kiddos- are looking at him like they're scared, like they can't trust him and that is a fucking gut punch. Because pretty early on in his high school career, he decided that his purpose was gonna be standing as a shield for other kids like him. He wanted to be a source of safety and warmth in an otherwise cold and unforgiving storm.
Being feared is lonely and sad, Eddie has discovered, and he worries this is his new permanent reality.
Eddie quietly sits through his friends hammering out the logistics of a nighttime schedule to organize sleeping shifts so someone always has an eye on him. It's sick. Eddie has to excuse himself to cry about it. He has no uncontrollable urges to eat anyone here, Steve does smell appetizing, but he wouldn't jump the guy.
He can still eat human food apprently, it barely does anything for him, but it's something. Eddie thinks it's enough to quell any feral urges he may or may not get. He thinks the party is being unreasonable about their safety precautions, but really, he'd probably do the same if there was a monster in the same house as him.
🥞🫐
It's a long night, he can't fall asleep but he'll pretend to so that everyone can relax a little. The changing of the guard chafes at him and makes his lip quiver. He bites his lip to prevent a wounded sound from slipping out when Robin nudges Steve awake and says it's "his turn on hell shift". Eddie jolts because he remembers he has real sharp teeth now, and biting his lip does, in fact, hurt like a bitch.
"You're not asleep, huh?" He hears whispered into the air of the big living room after Robin has settled back into sleep. It's Steve's sweet and melodic voice.
"I'm trying." He responds, brokenly.
"Wanna get some fresh air with me for a minute? I need'a smoke." Steve is already shrugging the sheets off of him and carefully stepping over his sleeping friends towards the back door. Eddie doesn't think he has a choice, but to follow. Stepping out of this stuffy room does sound like a relief though.
Eddie makes the same journey through the sea of teenagers sprawled across Steve's floor and out the sliding glass door. When he steps onto the patio, all of the crickets stop chirping around him. The night goes silent. What the fuck? Is that because of him? He loves the sound of crickets, though.
He walks over and curls up in one of the Harringtons' fancy-loungy-pool-chairs. Steve stays standing, leaning artfully against the side of his house next to the glass. He flicks open his lighter and the small flame illuminates his square jawline with a warm glow. He's so achingly handsome. He's like a movie star, or a model.
"You okay?" Steve asks conversationally.
"Not even a little."
Steve sighs and pushes off the wall to walk towards Eddie's chair. He sits at the foot of it and swivels so he's looking at Eddie.
"I'm really sorry Eddie. I can't even imagine how you must be feeling. I won't pretend to." Steve sets a hand on Eddie's ankle and Eddie could cry from the small gesture of comfort that he's practically writhing for. "I feel like what happened to you is all my fault. I know that 'sorry' wont cut it, but for the record, I am. Completely and utterly sorry." That's a silly thing to think.
"It's not your fault, are you kidding? How do you reckon it's your fault?"
"Sending you with Dustin? Alone? Putting all that responsibility on you?" Steve looks down at his cigarette with disgust. He twists it into the cold concrete next to his socked foot and looks back at Eddie. There's no fear in his expression, and for once Eddie is grateful for his reckless bravery.
"It was the best plan and we all agreed to it. Don't sweat it, Harrington." Eddie feels like he's not all there. Feels like maybe if he was more composed he could comfort Steve better, but he's hungry and dazed, sad and tired. Steve nods solemnly, and clears this throat.
"And about everyone being kind of on edge... It'll pass. I think they're all thinking about when Billy Hargrove got possessed by the mind flayer and went homicidal on us. He tried to kill all the kids."
Eddie desperately wants to hear all the other Upside down stories one day. He keeps trying to stitch together all these scraps of lore that keep getting dropped on him. He has no right to ask about something so traumatic, so he'll just be patient and wait for more lore to drop.
"Everyone's just being cautious. Vecna's dead though, so I'm not really sure who they think would possess you." Steve finishes and squeezes Eddie's lower calf where his hand rests.
"I get it. Kinda hurts my feelings, but I get it." Eddie mumbles and feels his eyes getting heavy. He wonders if he could fall asleep out here. Maybe if the crickets were still chirping and it wasn't so goddamn quiet.
"I'm sorry, Eddie." It's fine, this might not even be the worst thing that's ever happened to him.
🥞🫐
In the morning Eddie curls himself into Steve's little kitchen nook. Eddie kind of loves the window seat, it's something his mom would have wanted, Eddie theorizes. She was always looking out windows, probably daydreaming about escaping. Eddie does it too.
The kids seem warmer this morning. There's no more hushed whispers or pointed looks. They're talking and moving around the house less cautiously. Hopefully, the stiffest interactions and the worst of their distrust is behind them. Nancy's still watching him like a hawk though.
Steve shuffles into view, his socks are bunched up around his ankles. It's cute.
He holds out a plate for Eddie with a dumb smile on his face. When Eddie reaches for it, he sees a stack of pancakes and the top pancake has a little face made out of blueberries and two whipped cream fangs. It's a vampire pancake. Steve made Eddie a sweet little vampire pancake.
"Oh my god, you're so adorable." Eddie squeaks and makes a grabby hand for the fork Steve's holding. Steve blushes and hands over the fork.
"Do you like it?" Steve asks coyly. The pancakes feel like a hug, they feel like an apology that Steve doesn't even owe.
"I love it, chef." Eddie pokes at the pancake-vampire's cheek. "I don't know if I can eat him. He's too cute." Eddie giggles. Steve looks up at him with bright sparkly eyes. God he's perfect. Eddie's hungry for him in five different ways.
Robin and Dustin come up beside Steve to look down at the plate.
"I want one!" Dustin announces loudly. Steve turns around and heads back to the stove, he looks so proud of himself.
"You can have normal pancakes. Those are special for Eddie." Steve says with a wink. Dustin looks down at Eddie and pouts at him as if Eddie has any say in who gets what kind of pancake.
"Dustin had to watch it all happen, he should get one too." Eddie tells Steve earnestly while Steve is pouring more batter into the pan.
Dustin gloats and yells "Exactly! Thank you, Eddie."
And it feels like things are gonna be okay.
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watchmegetobsessed · 8 months
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LOVE AND TOUR
A/N: im so excited to post this fic bc *drum roll* it's a collab with @harrysfolklore !! the post tour depression is still kicking our butts so we decided to team up for a story that features LOT! hope you guys will like it and as always, make sure to head over to her blog to check out her fic that features all social media posts for this story!
WORD COUNT: 5.1k
SUMMARY: Y/N and Harry were once friends, but his career pulled them apart. Then in 2019 Harry decides to invite her to ONO London and so their story begins or more like continues.
MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!
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2010
The handmade banner hanging over the white board in the classroom is crooked and two balloons have popped already. The sign reads ‘Good luck, Harry!’ and every letter is a different color. The desks and chairs were pushed to the side to make room in the middle and the teacher’s desk is full of snacks and drinks the kids brought in for the little impromptu party the class decided to throw before Harry’s big day.
He is going to his big X Factor audition this weekend and though he is not convinced he will make it, everyone in school is rooting for him. If anyone deserves the success it’s Harry, the goofy, kind boy who makes everyone smile and always helps whenever he can.
The soon-to-be rockstar is mingling with his friends and classmates, music is playing in the background and the chatting is nonstop. Everyone keeps asking Harry if he’s nervous or ready or which judge he is afraid of the most. He tries his best to talk to everyone and be everywhere, though he keeps an eye on one specific girl.
Y/N has been staying in the back for most of the time, sipping on some soda, listening to her friend as he enjoys the spotlight. She’s been friends with Y/N for quite some time, they live just a street away from each other, they often bike to school together and whenever one of them is sick the other one can be expected to show up at their house with the homework.
Good friends. That’s what they are. But deep down, Y/N is definitely feeling more than just friendship towards the curly haired boy who is now set to step his foot on the road to fame.
When the party is over and everyone has headed home already, Harry and Y/N are the last ones to walk out of the school’s building.
“So, be honest, are you nervous?” she asks as they are walking home , pushing their bikes this time. Harry said he hurt his ankle at PE today so he better not get on the bike, but in reality… he is just trying to spend more time with Y/N. 
“Kind of, yeah,” he admits with a chuckle.
“I’m sure you will crush it.”
“You think so?”
“I know so,” she smiles at him and his heart skips a beat. 
Harry has been trying to work up his courage to ask Y/N out since probably the sixth grade, but he just never got to the point. Now he tells himself that if he gets into X Factor she will see him in a different light and that’s when he should ask her out, but little does he know he doesn’t need to be in a talent show to have her like him enough to want him.
Reaching her house she wishes him good luck and even hugs him before he waves goodbye and continues his way home. Y/N stands by their front door and watches him get farther away, hoping that whatever happens that weekend won’t change their friendship.
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2013
The tour bus is quiet, everyone is asleep. Everyone, except Harry. 
Lying in his bunk bed, his face is illuminated by his phone as he aimlessly scrolls on his social media apps, checking out posts by fans, reading news, just killing time. He knew he shouldn’t have had a nap earlier, because now it will be way too late by the time he can fall asleep and won’t be rested enough when they arrive in the next city. 
He opens up Instagram and goes through his feed, he posts a picture he took of the crowd at the show the other day and then watches the likes flood in like crazy. 
Going back to his feed he goes through his friends’ posts, it’s just the usual, parties, vacations, hanging out, everyone seems to be living their life even though Harry often feels like time has stopped since he’s gotten on the road. 
He can feel himself growing sleepier and he is just about to put his phone down when he comes across a post that wakes him up.
Y/N is not one to post often, she is not like most girls he knows who want to share every and any moment of their life. Last time she uploaded something was probably weeks ago. This time she was snapped in her graduation gown, her hair flowing in the movement flawlessly and he recognizes her parents’ home in the background. It totally slipped Harry’s mind that in a life he left behind graduation was happening these days. 
He scrolls down to the caption and all it says is “Soon” and then a crown emoji. It’s enough for him to know she’s going to King’s College London, that’s what she always dreamed about and it seems like she hasn’t changed her mind.
Before he could think about it, he double taps on the picture liking it, completely oblivious to how fans can see his activity and they instantly start guessing about who the girl is whose graduation photo was liked by Harry Styles.
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2014
The screaming intensifies wherever Harry goes on the stage, he is jumping and shaking his long hair to the music while his bandmates are singing ‘Steal My Girl’ and the girls are going crazy, the energies are insane, Harry loves performing, this is truly his element. 
He’s been on the road for what feels like forever and if you asked him what day it was, he would have no idea. It’s a miracle he knows which city he is currently in.
Walking to the side of the stage he stops for a moment right before the bridge that’s his part. He lifts his mic to his lips and starts singing when the music dies down right before his lines.
“She knows, she knows, that I never let her down before…”
His voice fills up the stadium, thousands are singing together with him and he runs his gaze over the sea of people in front of him. He sees so many faces, some are even familiar, Harry tends to remember fans he sees over and over again at their concerts, but most of them are new. The song carries on and the boys start singing along with him, Harry is about to move back to the middle of the stage, but then he sees her.
He sees Y/N.
Or so he thinks. It’s hard to tell, because it’s dark and she is so far away from the stage, it could be just someone who resembles her, but something in his gut tells him it’s her. 
He does a double take, losing the familiar face for a moment but then he finds her again and a shiver runs down his spine. He hasn’t seen her in years, life has been simply way too hectic to keep in touch, last time he met her was probably in 2012 when he went home for Christmas, they ran into each other in town and promised to talk soon because they were both kind of in a hurry, but they never followed up with it. Y/N went to college, Harry’s career was skyrocketing, it was impossible to stay as close as they were before X Factor and Harry always regretted not trying harder, because now he has no idea what’s happening in her life. 
Niall walks up to him and pats him on the back and Harry’s focus shifts to his friend for just a moment, but it’s enough to not find her again when he looks back at the audience. Did she duck down? Walk out when she realized he was looking? Or did he just entirely imagine seeing her and it was just a mirage? 
He can’t get her out of his head for the rest of the show and he finds himself looking for her over and over again, but he doesn’t see her again and his consciousness starts to convince him she wasn’t even there. 
It was just a cruel trick his own mind played on him. 
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2019
Why does he feel like he is sending out an invitation to the Queen of England? Why is he so nervous to hit send on an email? This is nothing Earth shattering, nothing will happen if he sends it out and life will go on even if she never replies.
One Night Only is set to happen in a few weeks and Harry is now sending out his invitations to his friends and family, he wants everyone who matters to be there on such a big night. Making the list was no hard task, but then he thought of inviting Y/N as well even though they haven’t talked in so long.
The other night, Harry found himself stalking her Instagram which he is still following. She has been posting once or twice a month, tiny glimpses into her life that doesn’t include Harry anymore.
But he wants to change that.
“Fuck it,” he mumbles under his breath and then adds her to the list of people who will get the invitation and then he just hits send and it’s officially out there. 
Harry is not necessarily one to get overly obsessive about something, but the next few days he finds himself checking his inbox every hour, scrolling through the new emails, looking for one particular address to show up, but he has to come to the conclusion every time that Y/N hasn’t answered. 
Days go by, Harry’s enthusiasm fades and by the end of the week he is convinced she won’t be there and soon he doesn’t even have time to think about it. 
One Night Only arrives to London in december. The venue fills up with excited and devoted fans, but no one is more nervous about tonight than Harry. 
He is ready, his band is ready, everything is perfectly in place, but he knows he won’t feel fully calm until he is on stage, performing to the people who gave him this amazing life. 
It all goes as planned, Fine Line is finally officially out there (it has been for about a week if we are being exact) and Harry couldn’t be happier. Coming off the stage he is still high on adrenaline, taking all the congratulations the crew and guests are giving him relentlessly. His smile is so wide, it’s starting to hurt his face, but it’s a pain he could happily deal with for the rest of his life.
He hugs his mum and sister, all his old friends, they do a group hug with the band and he is sure he has greeted everyone by now, but then he spots one specific figure in the back of the room.
At first he thinks he is just imagining it. That his mind is playing the same trick on him it did a few years ago when he thought he saw Y/N at one of their concerts. Blinking a couple of times he is ready to watch her disappear like a ghost, but as the seconds go by he realizes that she is truly there.
Y/N is standing across the room with a nervous smile, looking all grown up and most importantly fucking beautiful. Even though Harry has seen plenty of pictures of her from recent times, it’s still a shock to have her stand in the same room as him. 
His body moves before his brain could process it. His feet start to carry him towards her and before he even realizes he is running and when he finally reaches her he wraps her in his arms, twirling her around, making both of them laugh.
“You’re here!” he breathes out, still hugging her even when he has put her down.
“I am, you invited me!” she chuckles and they finally lean back enough to look at each other. 
“I know, but… you never replied, I didn’t think you’d come and… You are actually here,” he repeats.
“Sorry I didn’t reply, I wasn’t sure until the very last minute if I would come,” she admits nervously.
Harry’s invitation was all she could think about since the morning she got the email. It was more than unexpected, for a moment she even thought it was just some kind of prank, but it came from Harry's old email address, so she had to believe that it was genuine. She hesitated until probably a few days ago when she woke up one day and just knew that she had to be here tonight. 
“It’s okay,” he smiles at her softly, taking in her every feature. The girl he knew is still there, but she changed a lot, she looks so much more mature and her features have definitely gotten a lot more feminine. 
She looks gorgeous. 
Suddenly it all comes down on him clashing, all the questions, the feelings, he wants to know everything, but he fears they don’t have enough time.
“How long are you staying?” he then asks.
“I took a couple of days off, I’m staying for three more days.”
He sighs in relief. 
“Come on,” he smiles, his hand taking hers. “I want to know everything.”
“Everything?” she chuckles, ignoring the tingles wherever his hand is touching hers.
“Harry, don’t assault the poor girl! She almost didn’t come!” Gemma chimes in. Harry stops, his eyes snapping back and forth between Y/N and his sister.
“Wait, you knew she would be coming?” he asks Gemma, who is sipping on some champagne with a knowing smile. She shrugs.
“Yeah.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” he scoffs, hands on his hips. The sight makes Y/N laugh, because she can see his sixteen year-old self in the pose so vividly, it’s insane.
“You never asked,” Gemma says and walks away. Harry turns back to Y/N.
“She messaged me if I got your invitation,” she admits. 
“So you’re telling me, all I should have done is to send you a message and ask for confirmation?”
Y/N just chuckles, shrugging her shoulders innocently. Harry exhales as he shakes his head.
“Alright, now you truly have to tell me everything.”
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2020
“Can you hear me?” Harry asks, as the FaceTime finally loads and Y/N’s pixelated face fills his phone’s screen. He leans back on his plush couch and he tries his best to ignore how fast his heart starts pounding in his chest when he hears her laugh.
“Yeah, I can hear you,” she answers and it seems like she just sat down somewhere too.
Struggling with the unstable connection they share how their day has been so far, though Harry has been up just for a few hours while Y/N’s is almost over. The time difference has been making it hard for them to keep in touch, but Harry has learned his lesson and he bends his schedule around these talks, because there’s no way he would waste even a moment he could spend talking to her.
ONO and the days that followed changed everything. It didn’t take long for Harry to realize that his boyish crush is still very much present and after seeing her it quickly evolved into something more mature. Seemingly, Y/N has been sharing these feelings, because it appears she enjoys spending time with Harry in any way possible just as much as he does. 
It took them quite some time to catch up and it feels like they still haven’t shared everything they missed in each other’s life in the past years, but they know they have all the time they need, even if the circumstances might not always be the best. They are both trying their best.
There’s a comfortable silence in their call where both of them are just staring at each other through the screen. The unsaid things have been hanging there between them, they know it’s more than just their old friendship rekindled, but saying the words out through a FaceTime call wouldn’t be right.
“I miss you,” Harry finds himself mumbling the words, kind of to himself, but she hears the words.
“I miss you too,” she replies, biting her lip as she adjusts the phone in her hands.
“Can I… Can I see you before I go on tour?”
“That’s like… in three weeks,” she chuckles.
“I know. But I want to see you.”
“I don’t know, I have a regular, mundane job, I’m not an international rockstar who can just travel whenever it’s convenient,” she reminds him jokingly.
“Okay, then let me visit you.”
“You’re way too busy to come here.”
“I’m never too busy for you.”
She gasps at his words, the pink clouds so thick around her mind it’s almost sickening. If only she could reach out and through the screen…
“Let’s talk about it tomorrow and if you still think the same, we can… figure something out,” she smiles shyly. Harry knows he’ll feel the same tomorrow and the day after and forever. So he just smiles and nods.
They chat some more until Harry has to leave. Unwillingly, but they end the call and return to their separate lives.
Y/N stays on her couch, her phone still in her hands and Harry on her mind. Her TV is on, but it’s been muted, the screen is the only thing illuminating her in the dark room. With a tired sigh she reaches for the remote and turns the volume back on.
The news are on. She stands from the couch and starts cleaning up, not even listening to what they are talking about on the screen.
“... therefore COVID-19 has been officially declared a pandemic. WHO warns everyone to wear a mask in all public places, countries with a high number of cases are urgently discussing what other safety measures should…”
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Y/N is questioning her sanity. She has been for the past week that was spent packing her suitcase, she took three covid tests in the last two days and now she is about to board a private jet at an airport that’s scarily empty. The last part shouldn’t be surprising, the whole world is under lockdown because of the pandemic, Y/N has spent her last month isolated in her apartment, right until one day Harry begged her to fly over to him.
“Y/N, please. I will settle everything, I’ll send a private jet for you, pay for it all, just please… please come here and be with me!”
There’s probably nothing she can deny from him. So here she is, escorted onto a private jet by an airport worker, they are both wearing their masks, just like everyone she has seen in the past week preparing for her travel.
Just as she settles in her seat on the jet, her phone buzzes from a text.
HARRY: Everything alright? Are you boarding already?
With a smile hidden under her mask she types her reply.
Y/N: On the plane, we’re taking off in 10.
HARRY: I can’t wait to see you.
Last time she traveled overseas was for a vacation years ago. She flew commercial then and it felt like hell, wedged between an obnoxious little boy and a middle aged woman who complained about everything. Now it’s just her and literally one single stewardess who is there to serve her. It’s a whole different experience for sure. 
Luckily, the journey feels a lot shorter when she’s comfortable, she can get up anytime and eat excellent food instead of some weird frozen meal on a plastic plate. By the time the jet touches down she feels rested and most importantly excited to see Harry again. It feels like forever when they had to say goodbye in december and in all honesty, it took them way longer to reunite, but it’s all because of the pandemic. It’s late april now, they were planning to meet about a month ago originally at the end of march before his tour was set to kick off. By now he was supposed to be on the road through Europe, but instead, he has been under lockdown just like the rest of the world.
She walks through LAX as if it was zombie land, it’s so eerily empty she is expecting zombies to round the corner any minute, but it never happens. She reaches the car waiting for her, the driver loads her begs to the trunk and then they are off to Harry’s place. 
It’s her first time at Harry’s LA home, and naturally it still baffles her to see where he’s gotten from his old life in Holmes Chapel, one that included her.
But his life includes her now as well, she reminds herself just as the car rolls up the long driveway. Getting out of the car she is about to grab her suitcases from the back of the car when the front door flies open and Harry sprints out. Literally.
He is running towards her with such speed, she almost gets knocked over when he finally reaches her and locks her in his arms, twirling around in the air.
“You’re here!” he breathes out, making her laugh.
“Were you not expecting me?” she teases him when he finally puts her down, but his arms remain around her.
“It’s just… I’m so happy to see you,” he smiles widely, taking her in. She hasn’t changed much since December, maybe her hair has gotten a little longer, but she looks the same.
However their feelings are nowhere near the same.
He thanks the driver and then grabs all her bags, urging her to come inside. Y/N wanders further into his home exploring it right away, already migrating towards the pool outside. Harry sets her luggage down in the hallway and walks after her, watching her stop by the sliding doors, admiring the enormous backyard. She turns around and catches him staring.
“What?” she asks, nervously laughing.
“Nothing,” he shakes his head. “I’m just really happy you’re here.”
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2021
He’s nervous. There’s no use in denying, anyone could see it. But no one can blame him, it’s been so long since he last stood on a stage, he’s afraid he lost his groove, though the people who know him beg to differ. 
Washing his teeth in his fluffy robe he is eyeing his outfit for tonight that’s hanging in the corner. He knows his fans will love it, the color pink alone would make them go feral, but the sparkly vest with no top underneath will be surely like they won the jackpot. 
He spits and rinses his mouth just when there’s a soft knock on the door and just by the rhythm of it he knows who it is.
“Come in!” he calls out, wiping his mouth with a towel just when Y/N pokes her head inside, her body following a second later. 
“Hey,” she smiles shyly, taking him in for a second as he moves around the room.
“Told you, you don’t have to knock when you come in,” he chuckles.
“But, what if you’re… naked or something?”
He stops and stares back at her, giving her an ‘Are you kidding me?’ look that gets her all flustered in an instant so he decides to take it even further.
“Nothing you haven’t seen, baby. In fact, you can see it right now if you wanted to.” He starts untying his robe, but she stops him laughing and taking the opportunity of having her so close now he wraps her in his arms and kisses her.
It never gets old. The feeling he gets whenever he gets to kiss her, whether it’s a good morning kiss right after he wakes up, or a tired kiss at the end of the day, a needy kiss when he just wants her more than anything or a make-up kiss after a fight, which doesn’t happen often. He can count it on one hand how many times they got into an argument since they’ve become an item in April 2020, when Y/N spent most of the lockdown with Harry. Originally, she planned to stay only for a couple of weeks, but she didn’t return home until the start of June and she was back by July.
Now it’s September 2021, so it’s been almost one and a half years since then and they are still just as in love as they were during lockdown.
“You’re nervous,” she mumbles against his lips and it’s not a question. She knows him, all of his looks, his movements, she knows what he thinks about most of the time if not always, she can read him like a book.
Harry hums and just goes in for another kiss.
“You’ll be amazing, don’t worry,” she smiles at him, patting his chest as she pulls back. “And even if you make a mistake, the pink sparkles will distract everyone,” she jokes, nodding towards his outfit.
“You’ll be out there?”
“Of course. I’ll be the one screaming the loudest.”
“As loud as last night?” The cheeky grin that stretches across his face is proof that he is not that nervous if he can make dirty jokes.
“Shut up or I’m going home,” she laughs, poking a finger into his chest teasingly. He grabs her finger and pulls her back for another kiss.
“Nope, you’re stuck here. With me,” he smirks, lips coming over hers again.
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2023
The bittersweet feeling has been lingering around the crew not just all day, but probably for a week now. Everyone knew that the end was coming and now that the final show is officially here, the emotions are overflowing. Everything they are doing, they are doing it for the last time on Love On Tour. It’s the last stage, the last sound check, last time Wet Leg takes the stage before Harry and it’s the last time Y/N is sitting in his dressing room, watching him put on his outfit of the night.
She can sense that he is different than he usually is before a show, he seems antsy and his eyebrows have been furrowed probably since lunch. Y/N watches him pace the floor back and forth in his sparkly outfit, nervously fixing the wire behind his neck even though it’s exactly in the same spot it usually is.
“Do you want me to help?” she asks and Harry stops in his tracks, as if he just realized what he’s been doing. His hands fall by his side as he exhales sharply.
“Sorry, just… fidgeting.”
Y/N stands from the couch and walking over she absentmindedly fixes his fringed vest, planting her palms onto his chest gently.
“It’s okay to be sad, H,” she reminds him. Harry tends to hide his big, sad feelings, because he feels like it would bother others. He is always so considerate about dealing with everyone else’s feelings, but this time his emotions should be in focus as well.
“I don’t want to be sad, that’s the thing. It was a great experience, sadness should not be a thing when I think of Love On Tour.”
“But that’s why it’s okay to be sad. Because this amazing experience is ending and it’s natural that you’re mourning it. It lasted, what? Like almost two years? And if we count in the planning, this tour has been part of your life since 2019. That was four years ago, no one expects you to just let go of it laughing.”
Harry nods, his arms snaking around her waist as he pulls her into his embrace, needing to feel her close in this overwhelming moment. She’s been his anchor, the person he could turn to no matter what during this insanely long tour, he’s convinced he couldn’t have done it all without her. 
Not even Harry can slow time down, so the moment to step onto the stage for the last time in this tour finally comes. Y/N stands with his family and friends at the side, holding Anne’s hands whenever an emotional song is played by him. He puts one thousand percent into it, just like every time on this tour and Y/N’s chest swells with pride when she realizes that it’s one hundred thousand people screaming at her lover.
Or fiancé, to be exact. 
When Harry sings Falling, to his fans’ surprise, she notices him looking for her in the crowd. The song is melancholic and it was written about a time he felt at his lowest, but to look in his eyes tells it all to Y/N.
He is not there anymore, because he has her. 
She’s twisting her diamond ring around her finger as tears dwell in her eyes while she sings along to the song, hoping that her expression tells him too, that she is happy to be the person who brought light into his life, because he did the same to her.
Then the time comes for Harry’s thank you speech and no eye is left dry after his words. Y/N has to swallow back her sobs when he turns to her and addresses his words straight to her.
“My love, thank you for everything, you were such a big part of this journey and I hope that our journey will continue forever.”
The fans are screaming, phones are pointed at her, recording her reaction as she just nods eagerly, one hand covering her wobbling lips. 
For his final piano piece Y/N moves backstage to watch him from there and be there when he walks off the stage for the very last time in the history of Love On Tour. She is standing there with the proudest and most emotional expression on her face when Harry jumps down the steps and he smashes into her arms right away, burying his face into the crook of her neck. She can feel his tears against her skin and she gently keeps combing her hand through his hair, giving him as much time to recover as he needs. 
When he finally lifts his head his eyes are glassy, but there’s a smile on his lips.
“You did amazing,” Y/N tells him, gently wiping his cheeks with her hands.
“And you did too,” he says and his words make her laugh.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You did the absolute most, Y/N. You gave me your love and support and I couldn’t have done it without those.”
Her heart melts as she pushes up to her tiptoes, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.
“You’ll forever have those. You’ll forever have me.”
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!
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riizewrld · 1 month
Text
꒰ঌ ◜⁺⋆⋎⋆⁺◝ ໒꒱
arguments with bf!RIIZE / how they would be in an argument ! pt.2 (shotaro,wonbin&sohee)
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໒꒱ warnings: mentions of drinking. more crying lol
part one here!
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shotaro:
arguments with taro are extremely emotionally draining. you two care about each other so much. taro is such a bright and affectionate person, seeing him upset really pulls at your heartstrings, especially when he’s upset with you. the two of you are on a break bc he wants to focus on his career. he proposed the idea to you since your relationship was going through a slight rough patch. you had gone back and forth for weeks before he came to a conclusion. he was so busy with group promotions that he hardly had time for you. you’re having a hard time coping with the fact that the love of your life can’t decide whether his priority is you or his career. that’s what drove you to call up your girls and hit to club to drink away your sorrows. you’re in the middle of downing your 4th shot in the last half an hour when your bestie, karina turns to you, yelling over the music to tell you that you need to slow down. she’s right. you’re past the point of being tipsy. your speech is slurred and your gait is unstable. karina steps away for a moment and returns less than a minute later. “i called your boyfriend, he’s on his way,” she tells you, steadying you with a hand on your hip as she checks your clutch to make sure you aren’t leaving anything behind. your eyes widen comically in surprise because the last thing you want is for shotaro to see you like this. plus, you hadn’t told your friends yet that the two of you were on a break. you wonder how he reacted when he was informed about your current state. as if on que, shotaro enters the building. he’s scanning the club and pushing his way through the crowd when he spots you. you’re not sure how to act so you say nothing to him and say your goodbyes to your girls. he whispers a soft “let’s go.” as he takes you by the wrist and leads you to his car. once inside he fastens your seatbelt, since you’re too gone to do it yourself. he’s upset you’re so drunk but he can’t bring himself to get mad at your for it. knowing he’s probably the reason why. you’re analyzing his expression as he situates himself in the driver’s seat. it’s completely stoic. your drunken mind convinces you it’s because he doesn’t care about you like he used to and before you know it, tears are streaming down your face and you’re crying into your hands. “you can’t keep doing this to me taro…” say through sobs. you want him to make up his mind. you want him to choose you. shotaro’s gripping the steering wheel, fighting back tears of his own when he says “let’s get you home ..” he’s avoidant of the issue and the emotional turmoil makes him somewhat withdrawn. he’d be the complete opposite of his usual self. it definitely takes some time to work past this setback.
wonbin:
you and wonbin would probably have disagreements over little stuff. never too serious and they usually get resolved within the same day. but when the subject matter is serious, commence the war. probably the type to grumble about stuff under his breath and everytime you ask him what he’s talking about he replies “i’m talking to myself.” he thinks by doing this, he’s preventing an actual argument but it actually does the opposite. but you’re reaching the point of just wanting to talk it out. he’s probably not the type to raise his voice he’s unless extremely upset. the two of you are in your kitchen when you tell him about a work related trip you that you’re required to go on next week. and of course you had to go along with the one coworker that wonbin couldn’t stand. he’s almost positive that the guy has a crush on you. you’re not sure how to tell wonbin that you’re going to have to share a hotel room with this man since your company accidentally booked the room too late which left you guys with the no choice but to settle for the only room they had available. you decide it’s just best to get it over with, so you tell him straight up. once the words slips past your lips wonbin stops in his track, turning off the running sink water where he’d previously been washing some vegetables. his eyes are wide and mouth agape “what?” he asks. he heard you the first time but can’t believe what it. he tries to look composed, but his anger is bubbling beneath the surface. “you’re not going.” he says firmly. you sigh, knowing fully that he’d react like that, and you can’t really blame him. the whole situation is weird to begin with. you try to explain that you don’t that you don’t have a choice but he shoots a look that leave absolutely no room for discussion. it’s not a threatening look but more of a ‘this is final’ kind of look. it would be hard to get your way in a situation like this.
sohee:
so i can’t reallly imagine sohee arguing with anybody in a serious manner, let alone his partner. however, if he were to get upset with you, i’d imagine him getting quieter than usual. he’d probably pout and whine quite a bit. if you’re also that type of person, literally nothing would get resolved in a timely manner. you two would probably just have to agree to disagree and let it go for the sake of the relationship. he seems like he’d be non-confrontational. i don’t think he’s been in a serious relationship before so he probably has a avoidant approach to conflicts. he doesn’t want to say or do anything that might hurt you. because of this i could see most of your disagreements stemming from miscommunication, since sohee often won’t communicate how he’s feeling in fear of damaging the relationship. you notice he’s uspet when the two of you are talking and it suddenly feels like you’re talking to yourself. he’s quiet and when he looks at you his gaze looks uneasy. he’d avoid eye contact as to not give away how he’s actually feeling. when you ask him what’s up he’d try to brush it off like it’s nothing. when you finally press him enough to discover the cause of his discomfort, you’d find out sohee was upset maybe something you said or did earlier and then he’d been keeping it in. you’d probably have to encourage him to be more honest with his feelings because, as much as he cares about your comfort and happiness you care about his.
this was hard for me to write since i was out of ideas. i hope it’s decent. not my best work. i just needed to finish the headcannon. i had to wring my brain out to finish this. feedback appreciated! also happy belated valentine’s day
mini taglist: @snuglyjwi @troublemaker02
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redbullgirly · 2 months
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Hellooo 👋, can you write enemies to lovers with fernando alonso maybe with some angst? 🤭
It's totally alright if you don't want to! Thankssss :))
EL DESTINO [FA14 oneshot]
Fernando Alonso x reader
Masterlist
Summary: Y/N works for Alpine, and even though Fernando Alonso isn't part of the team anymore, they can't forget their distaste for each other. The driver seems to think she's just an irresponsible party girl and Y/N doesn't like him because he's, well... annoying and mean and doesn't care about anybody but himself. Though could they be both wrong in their prejudices?
Word Count: 4.5k
Warnings: Not much, maybe they're kind of mean to each other and stupid at the start, but that's the point of enemies to lovers, right? XD
Author's Note: Hello Anon and thank you for the request! I didn't expect it to turn out so long, but hey XD. I hope you and everybody else will like it. Also I tried for a little bit of angst, but I'm not sure if I'm good at it... you can let me know :).
If anyone could read your thoughts at the moment, you’d probably end up locked behind bars and with the key from your cell thrown far away. Whoever's great idea was to allow the group of inexperienced interns to touch the important data and statistics deserved to rot seven feet underground. Chopped into small pieces. And doused in poison that eats their lifeless body until there's nothing left.
Okay, that's maybe a bit too violent, but still not far from the truth.
You rubbed your tired eyes, not caring about smudging the mascara anymore. There was basically no one left in the building, just a few mechanics desperately needing the cars to be in perfect condition tomorrow – or should we say today? And then there was you, who stupidly agreed to fix the disaster caused by too much excitement and not enough cautiousness. You knew the interns didn't do it on purpose, and blaming them wasn't going to help you, but still. It wasn't them who had to sit there long after their working hours ended, staring into a too bright computer screen.
When you finally managed to save all the damaged data, it was almost three in the morning, and before you made it back to the hotel, you weren't sure if it was even worth going to bed. Because of the emergency, you didn't have time to finish your usual duties. And even though it wouldn't be fair to want the analysis from you, that wasn't how the game was played in motorsport.
Legs almost giving out under you, you dragged yourself to the elevator. The poor lady sitting at the receptionist desk looked at you skeptically, but didn't say anything as you stepped in and pressed the button with the number of your floor on it. Generic music started playing, numbing your brain even more.
The metal door was about to close, but then a hand came between it. Before you blinked and processed what's happening, a man slipped into the elevator right next to you, pressing his own number.
You see, everything could have been fine. You could've just survived the thirty seconds of embarrassing silence, then mumble a polite goodbye and go to sleep in peace. But no. Fate apparently had other plans for you.
Because as the man turned to you and the bright light hit his face, you realized it wasn't just some stranger.
Suddenly, the silence shifted from the normal elevator weirdness to tension. You pressed your lips together, silently cursing the higher power that decided to mess with your life just today, when you looked like a zombie. With smudged mascara. Perfect.
For someone, maybe it would be a fulfilled dream to be in an elevator with Fernando Alonso. Two time World Champion, great driver, loved person. And a dickhead that almost ruined your whole career.
“You look like you had a wild night,” he murmured with a thick Spanish accent. You narrowed your brows, trying to control the anger bubbling inside of you. Was he trying to insult you? You wouldn't even be surprised.
“Perhaps I did, thank you very much.” Your voice lacked any signs of friendliness, clearly trying to provoke him. It was quite funny, really, how a minute ago you didn't have energy to think clearly, and now you were ready to argue with this man over anything. Almost like the magic of despising someone.
You noticed his jaw tensing and knew it wouldn't be good. But still, his words hurt: “Maybe if you focused more on doing your job instead of wild nights out, Alpine would do better.”
The sting in your chest was strong, but by some miracle the elevator finally stopped, and the robotic voice announced the twenty-sixth floor. Even life itself took pity on you, it seemed.
Without any other word, you turned away from Alonso and walked into the empty hallway, hearing a quiet scoff and then the door sliding closed again behind you, leaving you all alone in the darkness. How poetic.
Every door you passed looked exactly the same, and you just hoped you remembered your room number correctly.
You didn't even remember taking out the card and entering your temporary home for the weekend. You didn't remember taking your clothes off, removing the remaining makeup with a tissue because you were too tired for your usual skin care routine. You didn't remember responsibly setting up your alarm and then falling into the soft mattress.
All you could remember before the exhaustion took over were his words that cut deeper than he thought, and deeper than you'd like to admit.
-----
You couldn't believe it.
As you walked out of the debrief, you could basically feel everybody's frustration crawling up your spine, mixing with your own. The team, all the mechanics and engineers, pit crew members and marketing, hundreds of people worked so hard the whole week. And for what?
It was already bad when both cars didn't finish the last Grand Prix in Silverstone. But for it to happen again? That was downright embarrassing. Not only did it bring exactly zero points in the Constructors' Championship, but the drivers were angry, disappointed. You could see that in the team, the motivation level decreased quickly. And honestly, you couldn't blame them.
Last year, Alpine was the fourth-best car on the grid. Best of the rest, as they'd call it. But this season, everything was going terribly. You honestly weren't far from crying.
To lighten up the mood, some of your colleagues decided to enjoy a night out in Budapest before you'd have to fly to Belgium tomorrow, to prepare for yet another racing weekend. At first, you declined the offer, insisting you needed to catch up on some work, do analysis for the car and figure out exactly what happened to it. But then, one of the mechanics you were friendlier with saw your drooping shoulders, and pulled you into the club despite all your weak protests.
Soon enough, you let loose and after an hour, you were a few drinks in. Your head was spinning, a big smile planted on your lips and giggles coming out of your mouth uncontrollably. Not that you had low alcohol tolerance, but the last time you got properly drunk was some time ago. Perhaps you just forgot how it felt. The freedom, the sweet mist of oblivion clouding your mind.
Currently, you were sitting at the bar, sipping on a cocktail. You already enjoyed your time on the dance floor, which tired you more than expected. Thank God you went to the club right from the paddock, so instead of high heels that'd kill your feet, you had comfortable sneakers on.
As you waved at the young barman to give you another round of whatever he mixed for you before, you felt someone's eyes on your back. You didn't bother to turn around, thinking it was just another drunken man checking out half of the women in the club.
Then, someone stood behind you. “The drink's on me, hermosa,” the man said, voice smooth like honey. You froze. You knew that deep, thick Spanish accent too well. What the hell was Alonso doing here?
He clearly mistook your silence for an impressed one, or so you thought when he came to sit down next to you, his hand gently brushing your back. That was the moment you turned your head towards him, eyes wide, and his face dropped. So did yours.
You hoped for a split second you could pretend you were total strangers randomly meeting in a bar for just a little longer when he instantly frowned and his demeanor changed from charming gentleman to pain in the ass.
“Y/L/N,” he uttered it in a way that made you wonder if there was something wrong with your last name. “Guess I shouldn't be surprised to see you here.”
And here it was — the instant wave of anger and hurt he managed to bring up by just a few poking words.
“Says the right person.” You rolled your eyes, the flowing feeling the alcohol gave you before now gone. You felt like you were going to be sick. “I bet if it wasn't me you tried to hit on, you'd bring the poor woman to your hotel room tonight.”
“Careful, or you might sound jealous.”
“Oh, you wish, Alonso,” you laughed humorlessly. 
The bartender chose that moment to bring you the requested cocktail you already forgot about. You gave him the cash, though you had no intention of actually drinking it. As always, Alonso left a sour taste in your mouth.
“I see you're drinking the team problems away,” he pressed harder, knowing damn well it was a sensitive topic. You gritted your teeth, reminding yourself to be the better person.
Then you looked into his dark eyes, and your self-control was gone. For some reason, you couldn't stand the look he was giving you. It was full of something that was too similar to disappointment. You hated people being disappointed in you, even if you hated that very person.
Out of nowhere, the alcohol kicked in, and you remembered why you didn't drink in clubs too often — it made you emotional. So stupidly sensitive that you couldn't stop your eyes from tearing up. You shook your head, opened your mouth, wanting to tell him something. Anything that'd make him just as much hurt as you were.
Instead, you bit your trembling lip and abruptly stood up. You almost knocked over the bar stool, though at the moment, you didn't really care.
Was it cowardly to run away from him and his harsh words? Yes, you knew that. But you did it in the elevator, and so you could do it again.
In a rush, you got through other people enjoying their night out, oblivious to the lump forming in your throat.  You needed to get out, breathe in the fresh air and just forget about everything.
It was probably nearing midnight, and even though it was late July, you still shivered when you stepped outside the club. Just then you remembered you left your jacket back in the paddock. And you also realized the mechanic and his group of friends drove you here, and you had no idea where you were or how to get to your hotel room.
“Great. Just fucking perfect,” you mumbled to yourself, a few tears running down your cheeks. You wiped them away, willing yourself to calm down. Budapest couldn't be too different from other European cities, so you'd just walk to the nearest public transport station and then see what you could do from there. Yes, that was exactly what you're going to do, and it's going to be okay.
Having a plan calmed you down, at least a little. You walked in a direction you hoped would get you to the center and took your phone out. The battery was low, and you cursed yourself for not charging it during the day.
“Where are you going?” You winced and nearly dropped the phone when you heard the loud voice calling after you.
When you turned around, you already knew exactly who was standing before the club entrance.
“That's not any of your business,” you tried to sound tough, but it came out tired and weak. So instead, you lifted your head, trying to save the remaining bits of your dignity.
Alonso tilted his head, brown eyes studying you for a moment before he made a step towards you. “Don't tell me you don't have anyone to take you back to your hotel?” The undertone of his voice was strange, and if you didn't know better, you'd think it was worry seeping out.
“Oh, then I won't tell you,” you fired back, satisfied with your own answer as you turned around and left him standing there.
You made it around the block when a strong hand suddenly grasped your hand, and you screamed, prepared to fight whoever attacked you.
“¡Ay dios mío!” Alonso cursed and held his red cheek, where there was a clear hand print now.
You stared at each other in shock. You wanted to kill him for scaring you to death, but at the same time, you were relieved it was just him and not a creepy kidnapper.
“I'd say I'm sorry… but I'm not,” you managed to mumble. A weak attempt, you knew that. But it still seemed to wake him from his trance and make him scoff at you in annoyance.
However, he didn't let go of your hand.
“Let's go,” Alonso urged you back towards the direction you came from.
“I'm not going anywhere with you.”
“Y/N, if you think I would let a drunk girl wander around a city she doesn't know, alone, at night… then you clearly don't know me at all.”
It took a few seconds for his words to hit you, and all there was left for you to do was to look up at him with surprise written all over your face. That seemed to annoy him for some reason, but with alcohol still very much present in your system, you didn't have the capacity to think about it too much.
“Let's go,” he repeated, though this time you didn't protest when he started walking towards what turned out to be his car. You knew it very well, from the years you used to work together, for the same team. Silently, you wondered how the hell did he get it to Hungary, but you soon forgot about that.
Fernando unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for you. Your mom would probably tell you to be more cautious about getting into the car of a man you didn't like and were sure he didn't like you as well. But hey, it's still better than being lost in a foreign city, right?
So you sat down, and before you could reach for the seatbelt, he took it and strapped you himself, mumbling something about safety hazards with drunk people. You were so surprised by that unexpected action you didn't even have time to feel offended.
You closed your eyes, the comfortable seat making you sleepy. You heard him get in the car as well and join the night traffic. For a moment, silence reigned and for the first time in a long time, it didn't feel horrible and tense.
“Isn't it illegal to drive with alcohol?” you whispered, eyes still closed.
“I didn't drink anything in the club. Too busy with you.”
Just then, you realized you actually asked the question out loud.
“Sorry for ruining your celebration night. Probably didn't want to leave it with me,” you laughed quietly. When he approached you in the club, he thought you were a random pretty woman with whom he could share a drink and take her to his bed for a fun night.
“Whatever.” You could hear him shrug his shoulders. “Sorry for ruining your night. Though you don't have much to celebrate.”
That made you open your eyes and gaze at him. He was looking straight ahead, concentrating on the road ahead. The lights of the other cars occasionally landed on his face, and you wondered if he was always so handsome, or it were the cocktails speaking for you.
“Wow, even in an apology there's a hidden insult,” you snickered, though there was a small grin on your lips now. Yes, definitely the alcohol speaking for you, you told yourself.
This time, Fernando actually looked at you before he averted his sight back to the traffic. “I wasn't insulting you, Y/N. I was insulting the team.”
You raised your eyebrows, but didn't comment on it. It was pointless to argue over this, he had his opinion about Alpine and given the fact both your cars didn't finish two races in a row, you didn't have exactly the best arguments to convince him otherwise. After all, he was part of the team last year. And the year before.
For the rest of your ride, there wasn't much more said between the both of you. You were tired — not just because of the night out and drinking, but from the whole week, from the whole season.
Finally, he parked the car before a building you recognized. You didn't ask him how he knew which hotel your team booked, perhaps he remembered it was the same one as the year before. Honestly, you were just glad he helped you get out of the car and walked you inside.
Then, you found yourself in an elevator alone with Fernando, again. Though unlike a month ago, he gently held your hand for support this time.
You told him your room number and somehow, he got you all the way in front of the door. You thanked all the saints in the world when you dug the keys out of your purse. After three unsuccessful tries at unlocking the room, Fernando's patience apparently ran out. He took the keys out of your hand and silently opened the lock.
“Thanks,” you muttered, and let him lead you inside your own hotel room.
When the light switch turned on and illuminated all the papers lying around, he looked at you, flabbergasted.
“What's all this?”
You shrug your shoulders and look at him like he was stupid. Which he was, at least in your humble opinion. “Work. What else?”
“Yes, yes. But why is it… here?” He motions towards the desk, nightstands, and bed.
“Because I don't have time to do it all in the office.”
“You work overtime?”
Now you were starting to get irritated.
“Yes, I work overtime. Maybe if you weren't so insistent in thinking I'm a dumb party girl ever since I made one stupid mistake in your car's analysis a year ago, you'd see I'm actually trying my best.” You hated how hurt you sounded, pathetic in your own ears.
But honestly, who was he to judge you? You never actually stood up to him before, defended yourself against his mean words. You always sucked it up, let him complain about you to your boss, who almost fired you because of the driver's obvious distaste for you. And when he left the team at the end of last year, you never tried to contact him, talk to him. Fix your non-existent relationship.
Today, though, you had enough. Maybe it was the alcohol giving you courage, maybe it was his shocked face when he realized you actually did your job.
“Y/N, I-”
“Get out,” you said in a tone that didn't allow for any objections. Fernando seemed to understand, but the pained expression didn't leave his face when he slowly walked to the door. Like he didn't really want to leave, like he desperately wanted to tell you something.
You didn't care about him. He never cared about you before as well, did he?
And so, with one last, regretful look in his dark eyes, Fernando Alonso left your hotel room. When tears ran down your cheeks, you weren't sure why you were even crying.
-----
You were avoiding him after that. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, but you managed and after surviving the Belgian Grand Prix in Spa, you were excited about the summer break as never before. Almost a whole month without races, which meant you wouldn't have to meet anyone from the other teams, including Fernando.
Usually, the team worked tirelessly through the summer break — it was a great chance to have a proper look into the car's engine and come up with new ideas and improvements. God knew you needed that. Typically, you were amongst those loyal employees, basically living in the Alpine headquarters.
However, this year you really wanted a break. So you used your vacation days and stayed in your flat, finally sleeping like a normal person for once, eating home-cooked meals instead of team catering and enjoying the summer, though the weather could be better in England.
It was the start of August when you started finding flower deliveries on the threshold of your door. First, you thought it's a mistake, though what woman would refuse a beautiful bouquet of her favorite flowers. When it happened a whole week in a row, you thought about having a secret admirer or, in the worse case scenario, a stalker. Though, you still took the flowers inside every morning, cherishing them.
And then, one day, there was an envelope attached to the bouquet, and you had to curse yourself for being so, so stupid. Of course it's him, Fernando. Begging you to talk to him, to let him explain. One dinner, he said. One dinner, and then he'll let you go on about your life.
When he tried to write a poem in the middle of August, you finally gave in. You found his old phone number saved amongst many other contacts and sent him a simple “okay”.
The next morning, there was a time and address of the restaurant in the envelope.
You didn't let yourself get too excited about any of it. It's Fernando Alonso, the man who almost caused you to get fired from your dream job, the one that was so mean to you after making wrong assumptions about you and your way of life. Yes, he was trying now, but was that enough?
When the taxi dropped you off in front of the fancy restaurant, you took a deep breath. You had a simple dress on, light makeup, and a few accessories.
You walked into the empty restaurant. The waitress smiled at you when you told her the name of the reservation and led you to the only set table. You could see the deep brown eyes looking directly at you from afar.
Suddenly, nervousness settled in your stomach. If you didn't know better, you'd think this was a date — it certainly felt like one.
Without a word, he helped you sit down on a chair across from him and the waitress handed you the menu. It was without prices, but you were certain this place was lavish and expensive. Perhaps Fernando didn't want you to worry about it and let you order anything you wanted. And you tried not to be too impressed by that.
“You look very beautiful, hermosa,” he spoke after a minute of tense silence while you pretended to be interested in the menu. You didn't miss the fact he used the same nickname like that night in the club, when he thought you were someone else.
“Compliments won't make it easier for you.” Maybe you lied, because you liked him calling you beautiful.
“I know, but I couldn't help myself.”
The waitress came back with a bottle of wine that Fernando must've ordered before you arrived. You took a sip and it tasted like heaven. It almost made you forget about everything, almost.
“Please, can we talk?” You never heard his voice sound so… unsure.
“Aren't we talking right now?”
“Y/N.” The way he said your name was so soft, so delicate.
“Fernando.” You saw him flinch, and you realized it was probably the first time you called him by his first name. Suddenly, the whole situation felt more intimate.
He gulped, but there was determination written all over his face. Fernando Alonso wasn't the type of man to give up, you knew that. His amazing racing career was proof of that.
“Listen to me, please. I know that you have the right to never speak to me again after how I treated you. But I want to fix it, Y/N.”
Those brown eyes were going to be the death of you, burying themselves into your soul, your heart.
“I want to fix all of it, Y/N,” he repeated with all seriousness. “If you let me,” Fernando added.
And how could you say no to him? Deep down, you always admired him. Liked him, even. Before that fuck up with his car's analysis, you thought he might like you back. You always wanted his approval, and that was one of the reasons why his words and insults hurt so much.
Sometimes, people deserved second chances. Especially when they were looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.
Slowly, you nodded. “I think I might let you, Fernando.” You smiled, liking how his name felt on your tongue. “But it's not going to be easy, I'm telling you that,” you warned him with a raised finger.
“I wouldn't dream of anything less,” he replied with a thick Spanish accent that was stronger when he felt emotions. Fernando returned your smile and clinked his glass with yours.
-----
Brazil was a good race. Both Alpine cars ended up in points and Fernando, your Fernando, got another podium. You clapped along with others during the podium ceremony, eyes just for him. A proud feeling settled in you, and as he accepted his trophy for well deserved third place, he looked down at the gathered crowd. Mostly people from Aston Martin, McLaren, and Red Bull.
And then there was you — in your Alpine t-shirt, clapping for the driver who scandalously left your team last year, without a care in the world. That was when he knew he loved you, and that he'll always will.
You knew you loved him too when, after all the celebrating around the circuit died down or moved to clubs and private parties, instead of going to his hotel room, he knocked on the door of yours. Checking on you.
“Hermosa, I hope you're not working.” He rolled his eyes as he stepped in, seeing you indeed staring into your notebook at some data he probably shouldn't see as a part of a rival team.
“But Nando, I need to finish these-”
He cut you off the best way he could — hugging you from behind, gently turning your head towards him and placing his lips on yours. You instantly melted into the kiss, giving up the fight before it could even start.
“I think you need to properly celebrate your boyfriend winning,” he smirked, biting your lip teasingly. You felt like a teenage girl when the butterflies took off in your stomach.
Fernando slowly walked you to the bed, never parting your lips, as if his life depended on kissing you. You sat on his lap, your hips grinding against his as you moaned into his mouth.
And he couldn't help himself. He wanted to take you out on a magical date and tell you there, but how could he keep it a secret when you were sitting on him, so beautiful that his heart clenched. Smart and pretty girl. His smart and pretty girl.
“Te amo,” he whispered into your sweet lips, and your breath caught.
You pulled back a little, looking at him, silently asking if you heard him correctly.
“Te amo, Y/N,” he repeated. You knew enough Spanish for your eyes to tear up. “I love you very much.”
There was a heartbeat of silence, probably the longest one in your whole life.
“I love you too. So much,” you whispered back. And then, for him: “Te amo, Fernando.”
Now it was his turn to tear up, hold your face in his hands and press your foreheads together.
Perhaps the fate and its plans for you weren't so horrible after all.
THE END
Author's Note: Wow, if you read it all to the end, thank you very much! I'll be glad for likes, comments, reblogs, follows and every other way of support. Let me know how you liked this story and if you'd maybe like another oneshot from this "universe" because I have to admit, this version of Fernando and Y/N kind of grew on me... Have a great day and see you at the next post! :)
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m1ssunderstanding · 1 month
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Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 1.1
So disclaimer: I took screenshots instead of photographing my screen this time, but the quality of footage is a thousand times worse so the images are still mostly shit. But anyway, here we go :)
We're going to have to keep a tally on how many times they refer to their relationship in romantic terms. Less than a minute in, Paul has used the description, “great love affair.”
And John's right on his heels with “the sexual equivalent of . . . People in love.” So there's 2 already. Oh boy.
That opening montage of John and Paul just living for the light in each other's eyes should actually be the official music video for “I wanna hold your hand.”
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Also I wonder how many songs they have about hiding. Someone's got to have a list somewhere right?
I adore the absolute lack of reaction to John manhandling Paul.
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And then This Look. He's in love with him, ladies and gentlemen.
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I remember seeing somewhere that this footage was literally right after they'd finished “she loves you.” Which was pretty recently after Bob Wooler, which was right after Barcelona. And if you're like me and you think that song is secretly about their relationship? If Paul's just been singing “she said you hurt her so, she almost lost her mind, but now she says she knows you're not the hurting kind. She said she loves you” at you, after all of that? Of course John's acting like a fucking puppy dog.
Poor George tally number 1
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Excuse me??? John wants to live in the Beatle apartment instead of with his actual literal wife until Paul decides to move in with his girlfriend? What? He's so insane. Cynthia, you're lucky Paul's a fucking social climber.
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I think it's indicative of two things that Paul said “screw secret girlfriends” while John happily went along with secret wives. One: different levels of security in masculinity (John doesn't have gay eyebrows etc) and two: different relationships. Jane and Paul's relationship was a smart career move for both of them and I think, being upper-class, and having her own career, and not being a mother, Jane was in more of a position to have a say.
Every time I watch that footage of Ken Dodd asking about their parents I physically cringe. Poor poor babies. Do your research you idiot! I don't think that ever happened again. I wonder if Brian made sure of that.
Paul literally talks like such a husband here. “We've thought about it, and probably the thing that John and I will do . . .”
Obsessed with Paul shouldering himself between George and John after George's little joke shove. It's so protective and yet so subtle. Exactly the same strong posture and easy smile as when he stepped between John and that interviewer during the Jesus scandal.
Poor George tally number 2 (you can't quite tell from the pic but John is shoving him out of the way because how dare he put his suitcase by Paul's?! That's John's suitcase's spot!!)
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All the Beatles were cuddly with each other. It's one of the cutest bits about them, the puppies in a basket aspect. But I think we'll need a “noticable spacing difference” tally for this rewatch, too, and here's the first.
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Paul wearing John's hat for attention and it fully and completely doing the job? They're so embarrassing!
I actually love that John's imitation of his upper-class Scottish family (which Paul can't do) is actually much more convincing than his broad Liverpudlian (which Paul nails in two variations, one based off his own family) I'm obsessed with the class dynamics between them.
Poor George tally three. He shares this one with Ringo. That moment when Paul's pretending to interview them about their purple hearts and cuts them both off with, “thank you. Mi-mister Lennon,” and John and Paul proceed to completely forget the other two exist for who knows how long – certainly longer than the videographer was willing to record.
I find John sliding into Paul's raspy “tiiight yeeeah” with his very turned on “mmmMM it's been a hard” extremely suggestive. I'm sorry but I do.
It's like he thinks if he looks away for too long he's going to disappear or something. Which. Now that I said that. Yeah. That is what it is. Poor separation-issues baby.
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Ringo: Paul, you wrote a beautiful song and you sing it great. John: yeah and you're SEXY! Let's not forget that, everyone.
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Am I crazy to obsess over every little musical similarity in their songs? Yes. Can I help it? No. The little “oh-oh ohoho” in the If I Fell demo is exactly the same as in Imagine and (frothing and writhing) it means something I can feel it! I just have no idea what.
I also find the lyric change from “i hope that she won't cry” to “i hope that she will cry” extremely interesting. There's always a heterosexual explanation. Trust me, the straights are the Simone Biles of mental gymnastics. But while the published lyric can be read as a man bitter toward his ex girlfriend hoping to hurt her by flaunting his new relationship, the demo version is trickier. Could it be that he doesn't want to hurt his wife's feelings by letting her know he's in love with someone else? But who else could John Lennon possibly have been in love with at the time?
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“Too too much in love. Woah, too too much in love with you.” My heart
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caeunot · 2 months
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hii first of all i love your writing and im so glad i came across your fics 🖤 i was wondering if you could maybe write a johnnie x fem reader, enemies to lovers fic? or something along the lines of johnnie and fem reader always bullying each other a bit only to realise they've been crushing on each other the whole time?
johnnie guilbert x reader
enemies to lovers 18+
➷ you hated his guts, everything about him irritated you and made your skin crawl. you are friends with jake and you absolutely love him to bits so you spending time with him normally equals to you having to be around johnnie. these feelings aren't without reason though, your not the type of girl to hate on others very easily.
it happened a few years back, when your own youtube career recently jumpstarted and you started spending time with other similar youtubers near you. this is how you originally met johnnie, even before jake. you were first invited to a party hosted by some popular la youtuber at the time and you obviously took the invite since you knew this would not only help you make more friends in the industry but to also promote yourself!
you were greeting everyone and taking many pictures as the night went on, fully using this opportunity to the best of your ability. as it hit 12 you decided to look around and scope out the last person you want to introduce yourself to before you head home. you saw a short-ish guy with deep red emo hair swooped to the side with harsh makeup around his eyes and you were immediately intriged. you preferred a more grunge look yourself so seeing someone with such familiar fashion made you feel at ease.
"hey im y/n!" you say, introducing yourself. "do I know you?" he says coldly as he turns to see who was speaking to him. "no but everyone will soon the way my channel is going" you say with some sass so you can counter his rudeness. "you have way too much confidence" he says with a smirk. "so I've been told".
"what's your name?" you ask, "my names johnnie, johnnie guilbert". "well nice to meet you johnnie" you say with a smile. "what do you do for a living? if I can ask", " I make youtube videos and I also make some music on the side!" he says. you two talk for a little longer before you check the time seeing its quite past what you had planned. "hey it was great meeting you! I don't want to stay too long so I think I should get going!"
as you say goodbye and walk away you feel him grab you by your wrist, you turn around. "wait don't go yet, your the most interesting person I've spoken to today and I don't want to go home just yet" you bite your lip, "fine, how about I just walk you to your car then". he rolls his eyes, "is that all? anyways I don't even have a car, I came with uber"
"wait why did you take an uber?", you say confused, "do I really have to say". "yes", " okay, I can't drive.. happy?" you scrunch up your face, you don't feel comfortable letting him go home with an uber this time of night. "I don't mind giving you a lift! then you can talk to me during the ride all you want"
you walked him to your car and he got in on the passenger seat, let me just say that convincing him to let you take him home was harder than you imagined, but you could see in his face he appreciated it.
"why are you doing this again?" he asks as you start driving. "because I'm a nice person and I don't trust ubers". he nods, "I like your piercings" he says, observing your face in the dim lighting. "thanks!" you say as you stick out your tongue, showing your snake eyes. "oh shit I've never seen that in person before, it looks great". you blush slightly, "it was pretty painful and it's hard to upkeep but I don't regret it at all".
he brushes his hands through his hair, probably anxious from the small talk. "this might sound weird but, do you have a girlfriend" you ask. "I don't, why?", "it's because I figured that if u did she would be the one driving u home from a party, so I was just curious". "haven't had one in years", he says leaning back. "really? your really hot so I'd imagine girls would be all over you".
he laughs, "maybe in the past but not anymore, my sense of fashion and my lack of confidence kinda makes getting a girlfriend hard" he says, opening up to you effortlessly. "I think emo guys are hot" you turn and look at him.
"what are you implying?" he says, giving a lewd grin. "that if I had the choice to either have sex with you or not have sex with you that I would". you notice him squirm slightly in his seat. "if you mean that, pull over" he says
you do as he says and you climb into the back seat. you crawl into his lap and find yourself grabbing and pulling on anything you can find as you feel his tounge slip deep into your mouth, tasting the alcohol he had ingested that night. you wish you could recall the rest but you were much drunker than you thought you were and ended up slightly blacking out.
the moral of the story is that you gave him your number, and he never came back after that. not a call, not even a single text. you never ever hooked up with guys, this was your first time. and you hate how knowing a guy for just one hour could make you feel such strong feelings towards him, for johnnies case those feelings were a mix of lust and disgust.
back to current times, you ended up meeting jake a year later and that's when you saw johnnie again for the first time since that night. but instead of apologizing or at least being honest he instead found himself ignoring you. this frustrated you the most, you despise a man who cannot own up to his actions, let alone not even acknowledging them. every time you found yourself around him you felt your blood boil and you just wanted to give him a peice of your mind, but you can't.
you can't since it's been 5 months since and neither of you have said anything at all, 5 months of pure pretend. jake noticed your dislike towards his roommate but he didn't want to get involved in any issues that didn't require him, which you appreciated greatly.
after a lot of convincing, jake did eventually get the both of you to film a video together with him. it was one of those food rating videos and the goal was to order one type of food for everyone, jake said that I will do the drinks, johnnie the main and jake the desert. you were dreading this.
and you have been dreading this day for the past month since jake started bringing it up. you couldn't even handle being in the same room as him for a few minutes let alone a whole video.
"let's plan what we will order now so that we don't have to think to hard tomorrow!' jake says as you sat down on the couch next to him and opposite from johnnie. "I already know what I'm making you guys eat", "let it be actual food and not just chicken nuggets please" jake says jokingly. "knowing johnnie he will probably poison mine" you say with a scoff. a few minutes later jake started getting a call from someone and had to leave, aka leaving you alone with johnnie.
"why would you say that?" johnnie said to you the moment jake left the room. "say what?", "say that I'd poison your food, it's rude". you laugh from the pure nerve this guy has. "don't fuck with me, don't act like your the victim here". "says the one starting unnecessary shit". " I'm not starting anything, you started and I'm just continuing". the tension in the room was cut as jake walks back in, "sorry guys that was my studio, anyways where were we!" he looks between the two of you and johnnie gets up and leaves, saying he's not feeling well.
that evening you sat down in the passengers seat of jakes car, you breathe in and out meditatively to calm your nerves. "okay everything is orderd we just gotta wait for the food!" jake says climbing into his seat of the car and started prepping for the recording. you fiddle with your rings and move around your hair for a solid 12 minutes before johnnie got in the car with the food in hand.
the video started off fine, you didn't laugh at his jokes and he didn't laugh at yours. you two didn't even make eye contact, that was untill it was jakes turn. "okay guys for johnnie I got him a really massive chocolate chip cookie because hes a basic bitch and I got y/n a gummy lunchable because she's never had one" you laugh since the idea for having gummy pizza seems so obscure. "jake that's so wrong you know I love lunchables". jake turns to you as if implying you should give him a piece.
"I rather not" you say softly, but not soft enough to where johnnie couldn't hear you, "it's literally just a lunchable what's your problem". " I never said I had a problem, it's not my fault you don't have manners and can't ask for something yourself". "I literally just said that I love lunchables, stop starting shit were recording".
jake turns around to face the both of you, "what the fuck guys, what's your problem", you look at johnnie, "ask him". " you guys are acting like fucking toddlers either tell me what happened or just sort your issues alone, like now" he says as he gets out of his car, "there's no point in keeping on filming so let's just go inside okay".
you go inside and sit down and you feel as if your in the third grade getting detention from your angry teacher Mr Webber. "so.. what happend, you two have been like this since the moment you met and I don't understand, y/n, johnnie,I love you both so much but I can't handle this bad energy", you stay quiet and so does johnnie. "okay if you guys are going to be like that I'm going to my room, just please sort something out because I promised our fans we were doing a collab". he says walking off into his room.
you bite the inside of your mouth and look around, not able to handle the awkward silence. "johnnie I just have to ask you one question, why?" he makes an upset face, "what do you mean 'why'", " you know what I mean" you say in almost a defeated tone. you stand up and walk towards where he is sitting, "I mean why didn't you text me back, why did you ghost me" he looks away. "don't be a coward please, im tired of our crap". upon hearing this he stands up.
"fine okay, I'm a fucking coward. I was too scared to message you back because I was drunk and you were drunk and I knew for a fact that nothing would happen between us because I mean look at you, your gorgeous and I know if we somehow started something in the future I would feel so guilty that we hooked up the night we met, I've only ever had sex with two people y/n!! that's you and my ex and I feel guilty for it every day because sleeping with random people is not me!!"
your feel as if your in shock, almost frozen in place. you brush your hand through your hair about to say something but nothing comes out. "I never met to hurt you at all I just, I'm stupid I'm fucking st-" you cut him off by putting your lips on his, he doesn't push you away and instead takes his arms and grabs onto you tight while pushing you against the nearest wall. "I sware I'm not usually like this" he says, breaking the kiss,"you just.. do something to me"
'fuck' you mutter as you grab onto his hair as the kiss becomes more and more passionate. he takes his hands off the wall and starts to remove your baby tee, exposing your lacy black bra. as he did this you hear something behind you and look to see jake, his mouth dropped right to the floor. johnnie immediately stood in front of you to cover your exposed skin and when he heard jake walk away he helped you put your shirt back on. "I'm so sorry" he says with the most guilty look on his face.
"shh don't be it's okay!" you say holding his face and giving him a soft kiss, "I definitely overreacted to everything because of how much I liked you, it hurt me so much that someone I felt so strongly about could shove me aside like you did". " I haven't gone a day without regretting what I did" he says. you felt so relieved that this issue between you two was finally sorted out.
"what now?" you ask, indentifying the elephant in the room. "its my turn to say sorry I shouldnt have kissed you like that it was impulsive and careless of me".
"y/n". " yes?", you ask completely confused. "I've never met someone I've wanted more then you in this moment, I want you and all of you" he says walking towards you and holding your waist, "let's not torture each other as we have, please" you smile "I'm all yours".
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harlowcomehome · 8 months
Text
You’re not that funny:
⚠️ A lot of jealousy.
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Everything had been crazy hectic the last few weeks with trying to plan out music videos, and all of the spots that Jack wanted to film them. There was a specific video he wanted to film in Miami, and you were excited to go with him.
“We haven’t been to Miami in such a long time” you gushed as you excitedly packed your bags.
“I’m sorry the trip will be so quick though” Jack mumbled as he looked over the email that had just been sent to him on his phone.
“Don’t be sorry, I know this is all business bub! I’m just glad I get to come see you do your thing” You walked over to him breaking his concentration for a moment as he planted a gentle kiss on your lips.
You felt him relax at your touch, you wrapped your arms around his torso as the kissing grew more intense.
“Baby, we won’t make it to the jet on time if you keep playing” he set his phone to the side and picked you up as you wrapped your legs around him.
“Aren’t you the boss? They can’t leave with you” You knew how to stroke his ego (and other things.)
Needless to say, when you got to the jet everyone was already on and waiting for the two of you.
“Are you two proud of yourselves?” Urban narrowed his eyes in an attempt to embarrass you both but you and Jack just smirked in response.
“I mean we could’ve done it on the jet but we thought we’d spare everyone’s ear drums” you giggled before taking a seat next to Jack.
“Thank you y/n! Appreciate it” Urban laughed and you handed him some snacks you brought just for him as a silent “I’m sorry.”
Urban smiled as he opened the bag of chips understanding the gesture.
When you got to Miami, Neelam took your bags to the hotel that way you, Jack, and Urban could go to set immediately.
Jack made sure to kiss you before jumping right into things.
Both you and Urban had a seat while Jack spoke with Cole and some of the models on set.
That’s when you spotted one of the models looking at Jack, and you, were not naïve to the fact that Jack was obviously attractive and women looked at him all day long, but she was looking at him like she wasn’t about to leave there without him and that truly made your blood boil.
She smiled at you, making sure you knew that she was aware of you and just didn’t care.
It was definitely something you were working on, trying your best to appear more confident than you actually were. You didn’t want to be too reactive and embarrass Jack especially when it came to his career.
Urban noticed your gaze and realized immediately what was going on.
“You okay? Do you want me to go talk to him? I saw what you saw” he admitted to noticing the model being too friendly.
“I’m fine! It’s just work” you squirmed in your seat as you begin to scroll on your phone mindlessly.
Urban sat back and enjoyed the show knowing there was about to be one.
It wasn’t until the tall, beautiful model laughed a little too loud at something Jack said for the third time that your eye physically twitched.
“He’s not that fucking funny” you mumbled to yourself but Urban heard you and stood up immediately, deciding it was probably time to start taking some behind-the-scenes shots.
What you and the models didn’t know is that since you and Jack started dating the two of them had a code word. A code word they’d use in a sentence when something needed to be taken care of with their significant other.
“It’s kinda hot in here no?” Urban asked as he walked toward Jack and the models.
“It is” Jack laughed clearly oblivious.
“Probably because Jacks here” the model giggled as she inched closer to him and Jack moved further away being put off by her comment.
Urban was just praying you didn’t hear it too.
“It’s almost kinda spicy? Is that the best way to describe it?” Urban furrowed his brow at Jack who caught on immediately when he heard the word “spicy.”
“You’re right! Let me talk to Cole” He jumped out of the car he had been sitting inside and Urban whispered to him that you were pissed.
Jack made a beeline toward you, and you hardly moved a muscle.
“Baby?”
“Oh, are you talking to me?” You replied clearly annoyed.
“Babe, I can’t help it. It’s just work” he whispered.
“Please don’t piss me off right now,” you said through your teeth. “I’m begging you not to piss me off or I’ll cause a scene because one thing I’m not about to do is let some bitch who’s paid to be here as an extra make me act out of character but I will because she has one more giggle left in her before I punch her in her already reconstructed nose.”
Jack hated to admit that a little bit of jealousy turned him on, so he decided to push your buttons a little bit. “Am I not allowed to be funny?” He smirked and you both knew what he was doing.
“You’re not THAT funny. You’re not let me bend over and show you my breasts jiggling at my work opportunity funny.” Your face was growing warm and you were about to lose it if he said one more stupid thing.
“I always keep you laughing, I mean that’s how we got here right?” His tongue grazed the inside of his cheek and you knew this was just a game to him.
“Coles funny too and talented” you gestured to Cole who wasn’t paying either of you any attention as he directed his team to fix the lighting.
“Y/N” Jack warned, and you know you were finally pushing his buttons back.
“Did I mention he’s handsome? I think there’s something I like about a man in charge” you winked before leaning back in your chair satisfied with what you said.
Jack sighed before walking back over to where the models were. “I need one less model for this video. I hate odd numbers ladies” he pointed at the model that had been flirting with him all day and asked her to leave.
She ran out of the studio with tears in her eyes and you waved her out. You hated to admit it but you were satisfied nonetheless.
The rest of the shoot went well and the other models were respectful especially to you after what they’d seen today they knew better than to cross any boundaries.
When you were leaving Jack walked over to you with a smile on his face.
“Don’t even start” you nervously giggled.
“I’m just saying- I liked that a little bit” he blushed and you rolled your eyes.
“I knew you did” you hummed.
“But do you really think Coles handsome?”
“Jackman- shut up” you giggled as you pulled him into a kiss.
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mixtape-racha · 8 months
Note
YAYYYYYY 100 followersssss :) im so happy for youuuuu :)))))
okay, here is my request... hehe, im suchhh a sucker for hurt comfort and I loveeee fem 9th member au's. but like not smut or like fwb, just like a really juicy story y'know? I haven't been able to find any of those two categories combined tho, especially into like a longer fic, like it's always in the hundreds (I would love it if it was a little longer, no pressure tho :). literally, anything works, from some kinda mess up on stage to maybe you messing up a relationship w a member??? idk. I'm letting ur thoughts run wild here... THANK YOU AND CONGRATSSSS
(im sorry im really vague in requests lol)
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YAYYYY THO IM LIKE REALLYYYY PROUD OF YOU<<<3333 LOV U BB KEEP DOING WHAT YOU DOOOO
thank you so much my lovely bae!! ilysm and i hope i did this request justice!! i kind of went off on a tangent and got carried away with the plot waaa &lt;3
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sorry seems to be the hardest word
pairing: ot8 x fem!9th member!reader
warnings: angst, hurt comfort, reader snapping at the members, reader being physically unwell, fluff at the end
words: 2.29k
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everything was going wrong today, and you truly meant every. fucking. thing.
somehow, you had managed to turn your alarm off the night before (probably because you fell asleep while on your phone, accidentally calling your mom in you sleep in the process), and none of the guys took the initiative to wake you up when they got up.
okay, sure, you couldn’t blame them entirely. you were a grown woman, and you could look after yourself. but weren’t you supposed to be a team? eight other people surrounding you, and none of them thought to check on you? especially when you were usually up and alert before they were? no, instead they were all out the door without even knocking to see if you were feeling okay. so much for being your brothers and best friends.
so god forbid, you were late this morning. you managed to turn up at the company for your vocal lessons only ten minute late, but it felt awful as you’d never been late before. you were so incredibly lucky to get the opportunity to debut with skz, especially joining the group later in their career and being the only girl. you wanted to do everything perfectly to show that you deserved to be where you were, and with the way today was shaping out you were so disappointed with yourself.
but then - it got worse. you, in your rush to leave the dorms, had forgotten your sheet music, leaving your vocal teacher to be short and snappy with you. yeah, you brought it up on your phone instead, but she was strict, and a firm believer in “good old-fashioned pen and paper over your silly little radio devices nowadays”. her attitude towards you for the remainder of your lesson affected you more than you liked to admit - excusing yourself to the bathroom to have a little cry before you headed to the studio.
for some reason, none of your schedules were properly coordinated today, leaving jisung to be the one in the studio with you - rather than chan, like usual -  while you recorded your lines for the demos to be sent to the company later in the month, when you’d decide the songs for the new album you had upcoming later in the year.
jisung was always the nicest to you, especially when he could tell you were having a rough day - you were both very alike in that sense, very attentive towards each other as if you could tell what the other was feeling. 
however, it seemed today that something had crawled up his ass and died. he was almost as snappy as your vocal teacher, and you were quite frankly sick of it. you kept messing up your lines; whether from the stress or the ache building in your throat (god you hoped you weren’t getting sick), you weren’t sure. but clearly, jisung wouldn’t stand for it.
“honestly, (y/n), you might as well just call it a day and come back to this with chan-hyung another day. i need to get on with other stuff.” he sighed, dismissively, as you bit back the tears fighting to escape your eyes. he wouldn’t even look at you, and your stomach was doing somersaults. was he really that mad? surely he could see how hard you were trying.
but instead of confronting him, you just grabbed your belongings and left after silently agreeing. no one answered your message on the group chat when you asked if anyone was down to get lunch together, even though you could see basically everyone had read it, so you retreated to the canteen alone before you had to go to practice with the boys.
as the ache in your throat spread to your joints, fatigue plaguing you, you trudged up to the practice room for rehearsals with the boys. you were learning a new dance - in fact, the already chosen title track for the new album, and deep down you were dreading it. it was more difficult than you had imagined, and definitely aimed more towards moves the boys could do compared to you. you loved the boys, but sometimes you felt like they forgot that men and women’s bodies worked differently.
surprisingly, you weren’t the last to arrive, squashing your fear of another thing going wrong.
but just as soon as practice began, your fear was reawakened. the ache in your joints was making the dance more difficult for you to execute, and you could feel the annoyance radiating off of minho’s body even if he wouldn’t admit it. you stumbled a few times, almost knocking into felix, who looked at you more frustrated than concerned.
“seriously, (n/n), what’s going on? it’s really not that hard. get your head in the game.”
you huffed, shaking out your limbs and telling minho to start the track again. maybe if you ignored your surroundings, ignored how you were feeling, then things would be easier. you could block out minho’s harsh criticisms - he was probably just tired. you could block out everything, knowing the boys were suffering just as much as you lately. but when the music stopped again, and everyone was talking at you, voice after voice lapping over each other you just couldn’t take it anymore.
“shut the fuck up! shut up, shut up, shut up! give me a fucking break, i’m trying my hardest!”
you honestly didn’t mean to snap, you were just so overwhelmed and couldn’t take anymore. when chan tried to put a comforting hand on your shoulder, you flung it off, all your annoyance and stress from the day building up at once.
“don’t fucking touch me. i don’t need your pity, i don’t need you to tell me that i don’t know how to do my job well enough. this is the fucking worst day of my life and you all keep making it worse!”
every fiber of your being was telling you to stop, to be reasonable, but it was like your mouth was making its own decisions. you couldn’t tell which member it was, but you were interrupting the gentle call of your name before you could even control it.
“and no, before any of you try to be funny, i’m not on my period,” you sneered, anger bubbling under your skin as you saw jisung look away sheepishly. “i’m just sick of feeling like i have to fight to prove i’m good enough, like i’m not one of you guys yet. we’re supposed to be a team, but all day i’ve been pushed to the side and treated like i don’t matter. i’m sick of it!”
you breathed heavily, grabbing your duffle bag from the side of the room and storming towards the door.
“i’m staying with yeji tonight, leave me the fuck alone.”
was all you said before leaving the boys stood in shock, confused as to why you were acting like you hated them.
regrettably, the minute you found yourself in yeji’s dorm and explained your day to her, you knew you were in the wrong. how could you let yourself treat your best friends that way? they didn’t deserve that, and you would be most understanding if they never forgave you. it was only when the throb in your head and ache in your joints became too much that you finally allowed yourself to sleep.
chan’s apology
luckily, you and the boys were granted a week off a while ago, and today marked the first day of that week. however, knowing chris he was probably still hauled up in the studio from the night before. it was around 3am (yeji shouldn’t have let you crash so early, your sleep schedule was going to be manic), so you pulled yourself together before making the decision to go visit him.
he may not even want to see you after your little outburst, but you could still try.
you stopped by the convenience store on your way to the studio, grabbing some snacks and some drinks just to be on the safe side. carefully checking the group chat, you saw that changbin was still in the studio with chan and you hoped you could get there before he left - it might be easier to kill two birds with one stone. you were just glad you bought way too much food for just two people.
you smiled politely, bowing at the security guard as he let you into the building, heart thumping in your ears as you carefully traced the steps to chan’s studio.
when you finally approached the door, you had to take a minute to prepare yourself to knock. you heard chan’s voice mumbling behind the door once you did, nervously waiting until he came and opened it.
he looked surprised to see you, frozen for a moment before quickly ushering you in and sitting you on the couch next to changbin. almost in instinct, changbin’s arm was slung around your shoulder - something he always did when you were close by, relishing in the fact he wasn’t the shortest in the group anymore.
you sheepishly held out the bag containing all the goodies you got at the convenience store to chan, a small smile on your face when he took it.
“got you some snacks.. kind of guessed you might have forgotten to eat.” your voice was quiet, ashamed. you just hoped they wouldn’t hold your outburst against you.
but when chan grinned, you knew he could never be mad at you for long.
“we were worried about you, y’know? that’s why jisung let you go early today - something seemed off and we didn’t want you to get too overwhelmed.” changbin said from next to you, the hand on your shoulder rubbing it comfortingly. 
you couldn’t stop the tears from welling up behind your eyes again, but bit them back in fear they’d think you were looking for sympathy.
“i– i’m so sorry. i’ve just had an awful day, and i feel like shit, but that doesn’t excuse my actions, and i shouldn’t have snapped at you all - you couldn’t have known, and its not your fault.”
you explained why your day had been so bad to them (after some pushing from chan), and how you were feeling physically, causing changbin to look at you with great worry.
they indulged in a small cuddle session, feasting on the snacks you provided while they tried to help cheer you up. and honestly, it worked, just talking through how you were feeling, and gettin constructive feedback rather than just a shoulder to lean on was relieving.
you couldn’t apologize to them more, feeling so ashamed of your actions, but they were quick to reassure you it was okay - everyone had bad days, you were only human after all. you just needed to work on your communication a little bit.
when you finally got ready to head back to the dorm at 5am, you felt better than you had in a long time, actually.
apology numbers one and two: complete.
but when you arrived back at the dorm, head peacefully resting on changbin’s shoulder, what you weren’t expecting to walk into was what you all called a “cuddle pool” - the sofa bed pulled out, covered with pillows and blankets - and a spot waiting for you between felix and seungmin.
your eyes watered at the expectant faces of your soul-brothers, small sobs leaving your lips as your shoulders shook. god, the day had taken a toll on you - you couldn’t remember the last time you cried in front of the boys.
it was only then that minho - who you hadn’t seen standing by the door - scooped you into a hug.
“oh, angel,” he frowned, a hand pressed to your forehead. “you’re burning up. is that why you felt so bad earlier?”
words seemed to fail you, and all you could do was nod as your grip on his sweater tightened. it certainly wouldn’t be the first time you got sick from stress, but you hated being sick. you hated feeling out of control in your own body, and despised being doted on like you were unable. however, this time… you think you could let it slide. you just needed your boys close by right now.
they seemed to enjoy looking after you, and you felt you owed them that after the situation in the practice room.
minho was quick to place on you on the couch, felix and seungmin suffocating you in a bone-crushing hug. jisung handed you the tv remote, saying you could choose to watch whatever you wanted, and that everyone would be having a slumber party in the living room until you felt better.
minho and chan had gone to make you some chicken noodle soup - using felix’s mom’s recipe, which was known for being a lifesaver in your dorm. jeongin was quick to grab you your comfort plushie, taking his place on the floor by your feet - the two of you were 100% keen on physical affection, but having him close by helped.
within merely an hour, all nine of you were curled up, an animated disney movie playing, with soup and mugs of tea being passed around the room. it was nice, and it felt so good to have your boys so close and willing to help you.
you definitely took on changbin’s mention of needing to improve on communication, wanting nothing more than to improve yourself for the little family you had build around you. and yeah you were sick, and they would probably get sick too by being in such close proximity to you, but that was a problem for another day. you’d just return the favor of looking after them.
you just knew you were lucky to have them.
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h6avenly · 9 months
Text
The gang with an s/o who can sing
A/N: Sorry for the wait! And I was only able to do one out of the two requests! I'll try getting it down either tomorrow or Friday!
Darry:
Darry would probably be impressed with your voice
He’d try to encourage you to get a profession that needed a voice as great as yours
“Y’know, you should try to get a job that needs people with great voices like yours. People would pay lots for that.”
He’s always supportive even if you don’t get a job that includes singing 
Whenever you’re helping him out clean or cook in the kitchen he wants you to sing or atleast hum to pass the time
He thinks your voice is really beautiful       
Sodapop:
Absolutely loves your voice
Whenever he can, he asks to hear you sing
Would literally beg you to sing him one song
“Please y/n!! Yea I know I asked you this five times today but one more time can’t hurt! Please!!”
Would not stop begging u til you finally comply
He is really supportive of you get into a singing career or not
Ponyboy:
Whenever you start to sing or hum to yourself, he’ll immediately shut up and listen
He thinks your voice is really calming to him
Whenever he lays his head in your lap while reading or after just having another fight with Darry, he’ll ask you to sing for him 
It really calms him down
“Y/n can you hum me a song? I’m not feeling real well right now”
While he’s doing homework or reading, you’ll be his background music
Johnny:
He’s really happy that you found a hobby that you’re passionate about
Whenever you’re humming it really calms him down when he’s nervous
He asks you if you could sing him a song in the lot after having to deal with his parents
“Y/n, could you sing me a song? It’s fine if not”
He always makes sure you’re comfortable with singing him a song, he doesn’t wanna weird you out
He loves and cares for you dearly and especially loves your voice
Dallas:
He acts like your voice is alright but inside he’s screaming on how good your singing is
When he’s having a bad day he’ll lay his head in your lap and demands that you sing him a song to calm him down
“Doll, sing me one of those songs you like to sing, I don’t care which one”
Teases you by saying maybe you can sing random songs on the street for money
Whenever you ask Dally if you can sing to him, he tries to act annoyed but inside he’s so happy
“Yeah yeah, whatever doll, just go ahead”
Steve:
Whenever he’s working on a car at the DX and you come visit him, you absolutely have to sing or atleast hum a song
Will not let you leave if you don’t
It makes the experience of working on cars way more better than it already is
“Wait! Why are ya leaving! You still have to sing me my daily song!”
Once you finish singing his song, he will be happy for the rest of the day
He’ll happily support you if you decide to go into singing as a career or not
Two-Bit:
I swear this guy will try singing along with you 
It sounds like a dying bird but you don’t have the heart to tell him
If the gang is around you two when he starts to sing they will literally beg him to shut up
He acts so offended when they tell him to be quiet because he genuinely thinks his singing is good
“What?! What do you mean “shut up’! You’re just jealous that my voice is way better than yours
Once you sing him the mickey mouse theme song, his life will be finally complete
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ivymarquis · 4 months
Text
A Little Death
Pairing| Ghost x F!Reader Rating| M Word Count| 7k Kinks/Content/Warnings| The author has decided she can't be assed to edit this, Chubby!Reader, Kidnapping, nondescript mentions of torture. Ambiguous mentions of S/A (vague enough you can chose to ignore that part if you want tbh), Reader is traumatized from her ordeal but working through it. Fingering, PiV, riding, squirting, Simon has a moment where he's worried he triggered reader after sex but that is an incorrect assumption on his part.
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On days like this Simon can almost pretend he’s normal. 
The game’s on, a beer in one hand while the other has been commandeered by his girlfriend with a simple “Gimmie.”
Simon has never been one to worry about his nails beyond clipping them for practicality’s sake.
Having a SAS lieutenant for a boyfriend means she deals with what she insists is Simon’s paranoia and he insists is a healthy level of suspicion about the outside world. Having a nail technician for a girlfriend means every so often she’ll commandeer his hands to ensure they’re up to her standards. As it turned out, adhering to regulations wasn’t up to par for her. 
His neighbor is a popular woman.
It sets him on edge, all the traffic. One or two people at a time, usually other women- sometimes with a man in tow, other times not. They show up, they stay for maybe an hour or maybe 4, and they leave. Within 30 minutes someone else is knocking on her door.
Normal men humor their partners about things they don’t particularly give a fuck about when left to their own devices, as an acknowledgment of its importance to them. 
And so he sits, beer in one hand as she works on the other. Once she’s finished she gathers up the towel that acts as a catch for the various clips and trimmings before making her move to switch sides, Simon easily acquiescing to her whim.
“I’m not keeping you up, am I?” She asks one night. Music plays lowly from a laptop on her patio as he steps onto his for a smoke break. Just because he’s got his vice doesn’t mean he wants the whole flat smelling like it.
“Don’t sleep much anyway, pet. Bit of music won’t change that one way or another.”
Despite his insistence that he’s merely humoring her, he soaks up the attention she readily gives him. When she’s done and tidied after herself she returns with a small bottle of lotion.
He’s got one arm wrapped around her shoulders, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of her head as she massages his hand. If he plays his cards right tonight he can probably get her to soothe some of the aches and stiff muscles that always plague him. For now he melts as she seems to know exactly what points to hit in his palm and forearm. 
It’s domestic and normal and Simon can almost ignore the burner phone he keeps on him at all times.
It goes off at 5am on a Sunday, Simon already awake and having been watching the ceiling fan since 4:30. He can’t fall back asleep but can’t bring himself to separate from her. 
She burrows further into his chest as his shifting disrupts her. He’s fairly certain she would crawl inside his ribcage if she could, curl up right next to his heart and never leave. 
Simon would gladly let her. 
She’s a nail technician, he comes to learn. Sure as shit, he eventually memorizes the traffic that comes and goes on a roughly two week interval. Some of them are steadfast in their appointments. 2 o clock every other Thursday. 4 o clock every other Friday. Others not so much- they come around frequently but the days and times are random after the 14 day mark. 
The familiarity of some of the faces takes him slightly less on edge. He will never relax, not truly, but it settles him down now that he knows the pattern. 
It also explains why her hands have two completely different designs on each one. Color, pattern, the shape of the nails. Her left and right hand look like they belong to two different people. 
Simon doesn’t use social media, for obvious reasons. His little neighbor has formed an entire career for herself based off of it. 
But the phone buzzes on the nightstand, an omniscient presence that always hovers heavy in the air.
“Price?” Is all he gives for a greeting. Trying to keep his words short and concise. He doesn’t want to wake her, still under the lull she draws him into without trying. 
He keeps his work and his personal life separate with no intention of ever melding the two. 
“Laswell’s got intel. We meet in 2 days, back on base at 06:00.”
He is about to respond, both an acknowledgment and a hopeful end to the conversation, when she stretches next to him with a groan of protest at being awoken so early. 
“Tell your other girlfriend I said hi,” she grumbles, already knowing it’s Price on the phone and that the clock is officially counting down on the time they have left together. 
“You know at a certain point I'm going to just decide you’ve got a whole secret life with a wife and kids and a picket fence.”
He doesn’t want his work to ever follow him home. Not to her. He keeps them strictly separate. She knows he’s military- specifically SAS- and that he works in counter terrorism and that’s about all he’s willing to tell. She doesn’t need to know details. And more importantly the details don’t ever need to know about her. 
His past missions have haunted him in the worst way possible. He’s finally rebuilt something for himself as the ghost of a dead man, and doesn’t want anything to ever tarnish what he’s found. 
He can’t entirely blame her. It takes a leap of faith to accept the little he offers her. What does he have? A dead man’s name and most likely a violent end waiting for him. 
Eventually he does offer a small peace offering. Price is enough to settle the concerns that she hides as jokes. Provides enough credibility that she can let go of the concern that he’s living a double life.
Well, he is. But not the kind that nags at her. 
Price knows her; Gaz and Soap know that he’s got someone waiting for him at home, but Simon is already at his limit of how much intermingling he can handle. They’re both compromising, both making allowances for their comfort levels for the sake of the other. But he has to draw the line somewhere. 
If Simon had his way Gaz and Soap would be none the wiser, but a night of frantic coupling before he’d left had Simon bearing marks that are incredibly obvious in the changing room. 
“Steamin’ Jesus L.T.! You get jumped by a wildcat?” The chortle from the Scot makes it obvious that Johnny is yet again not afraid to push Simon’s buttons. 
There’s no denying what they are, nor how he got them. Neither Soap nor Gaz are stupid. 
Long, red scratch marks criss cross the broad expanse of his scarred back. He certainly hadn’t complained when his lovely girl had left her mark on him- those nails dragging across his skin had only encouraged him as his hips clapped wetly against hers, hands gripping her knees as he pressed them to her shoulders.
Most nights he is soft and gentle and strokes her skin while his lips press either in her hair or the soft expanse of her neck. He doesn’t roughhouse her tonight, but the knowledge he’ll be gone for weeks and tonight is their last together for the foreseeable future?
Well, the pair of them are a bit amped about the impending separation. It’s a good thing neither of them are particularly known for their good sleeping habits, because there’s not a lot of that usually happening on the nights before Simon leaves. 
Leaving without waking her up is an impossible task but he tries anyway.
Whereas Simon finds sleep difficult to achieve and eventually sleeps like the dead once he finds it, she drifts readily enough but will wake at the drop of a hat.
Usually she’ll settle soon after. Eyes following his form in the dark, waiting expectantly for him to come back after he dresses to kiss her goodbye. 
They carve out a routine for themselves. One for when Simon is home, and one for when he’s preparing to walk out the door until eventually coming back through it.
His therapist is equal parts shocked and pleased to hear that Simon is taking the leap and opening himself up emotionally to someone. 
His therapist is less pleased about the way he simply buries himself in her life when he’s on leave.
Simon is nothing- has nothing- when he is not acting in the line of duty. He is a dead man with nothing to his name and no one who gives a fuck if he ever walks back through the door that isn’t tied to his military career. 
He thrives on the stability and schedule on base. On the simplicity of nights spent out on the field. Wake up, piss, dont die, go to sleep. Wake up, repeat. 
Some days the only thing keeping him from trying to end it all (again, he bitterly acknowledges) when he’s gotten too far into a bottle of bourbon is his therapist and the thought of his team’s face at the news. 
Until, at least, he meets her. 
The mission is brief but successful. Simon is pleased. 
The deepest of the scratch marks has just finished healing and he’s already missing the sensation of her nails dragging against his skin- and he’s not picky about the context, either. 
There have been plenty of nights he’s fallen asleep with his face buried in her chest with one of her hands scratching gently at his scalp and the other tracing in broad strokes across his back.
Of course those nails also feel divine scratching at his abdomen while she is on her knees for him.
There’s a process he goes through when he gets home. It lets him shed the mantle of Ghost- to calm down as much as he’s able and be better equipped to deal with civilian life. Helps him give her the illusion that she is with a normal man who’s not holding onto himself with a death grip, desperately trying to keep the pieces together.
He feels fine when he leaves base and heads home. Everything is normal. 
Until he turns the corner and sees the door ajar.
Fear runs ice cold in his veins, hackles raised and on guard. 
I’m just being paranoid, he tries to self soothe as he steps towards the door. She tells me all the time.
Course, it was one thing when he gripes about how she answers the door without looking to see who it is. She doesn’t leave the fucking door open.
“Wish you’d at least look at the peep hole before just opening the bloody door,” he grouses into her hair, pulling her in so she’s tucked up to his side. 
“If I’m expecting someone to come at 3 and there’s a knock at 3, I already know who it is, Si.”
There are times when he is grateful that she has, by comparison, lived a life where she thinks he is paranoid and needlessly worries. She hasn’t had the experiences he has, and he doesn’t wish that upon her. He’s grateful with the knowledge that every time he’s sent out, thus far, that she’s been tucked away safe and sound until he returns. 
But of course the other shoe was always going to drop eventually. 
“Price?” Simon doesn’t know who else to call. 
He’s standing in the middle of his flat, evidence of an altercation scattered around the living room. 
She put up a fight if the state of the flat is anything to go by. He wants to be proud of that at least, use it as hope-
He just feels hollow. 
A group the 141 has dealt with prior are the ones all the signs point to. They wanted the team’s attention and by God they fucking got it. 
Simon doesn’t understand how they found she has any ties to him. He’s so careful- keeps her tucked away and hidden from any potential cross over with his work.
The next few days are a blur and Simon’s mental health has seen better days. 
He resigns himself, even when Laswell gets a hit and the 141 are loaded into a helo, to the fact that at best this will be a body retrieval mission. 
Even as Soap gives a reassuring knock into his shoulder- we’ll get her back, LT- as confident as ever. 
His sweet girl is dead, just like every other person Simon has ever cared about. 
He doesn’t understand what he’s done to deserve losing them all. The only ones he has left are his team, and that’s a tenuous state at best. His family was good. They were normal people with normal lives. She is good and a normal person. 
Her only sin is being foolish enough to love him. 
Some time between getting on the bird and offloading, Simon forces the thoughts in a corner and blocks them off. 
Simon, the terrified boyfriend, gives way to Ghost so he can get through this in one piece. He just wants to find her, bring her home and bury her body. He’s numb to anything beyond the scope of the plan he’s formed in his mind. 
It’s laughably easy. A fringe group the 141 has had altercations with- she’s not exactly a high profile prisoner. They just wanted to fuck with Simon.
There’s no satisfaction or vindication as they clear the building floor by floor. 
He feels nothing.
The further they venture into the building with no sign of her, the pit in his stomach sinks just as far. There’s no sign of anything concrete or anywhere they’d keep a prisoner. 
And then there, in a corner of a hallway, Ghost spots it-
An acrylic nail lying broken on the ground, dried blood clotted on the tips. 
For the first time in days, Simon feels something. 
It’s not hope. He doesn’t dare hope. 
But it’s confirmation that she has, at some point, been in the building. 
It’s also confirmation that she gave it a fighting chance. 
She’s a civilian- nothing much she can do against professional criminals. But she tried and Simon has to find something in that.
They split into pairs down a hallway clearing rooms. Every door that opens only to not have her in it is like a knife that keeps twisting in his abdomen. 
Just let him have this one thing. 
It’s just as Ghost and Soap have called out clear on another room that he hears Price’s voice call to him down the hall. 
There’s only one reason Price would be calling for him specifically.
As he approaches he can hear the captain again, softer this time. Can’t make out what he’s saying but everything feels slow; like he’s moving under water. 
As his mind prepares him for every horrific potential image waiting for him beyond the threshold of the door- there’s nothing that prepares him for what he sees. 
She’s alive. 
Wide eyed and panicked, which is to be expected all things considered, but she’s here and she’s breathing.
Simon forgets himself entirely. He swings wildly from feeling nothing to feeling everything and it bubbles up all at once as he barrels towards her. 
He forgets that while she knows Simon is SAS she knows nothing of Ghost. Simon works in counter terrorism, yes, but she knows nothing about the mask.
So after being kidnapped and going through God-knows-what in her absence, she’s got no fucking clue the 6’4 fucker with the skull mask gunning for her is her boyfriend. 
The sharp, croaked “Stay the fuck away from me!” doesn’t cut but it does jog his memory enough to know she’s absolutely terrified.
Again there’s that part of him that is proud of her. After everything she’s been through even if she wouldn’t stand a chance in an actual altercation- She’s not huddled in the corner. She looks willing to fight him, until Simon rips the mask off his face. “It’s me, love! It’s me.”
“Simon? What the fuck is that?!”
Rather than scrambling to get away she turns to launch herself at him, a tangle of limbs as they cling to each other and reassure themselves that yes this is real and yes the other is there. That this fucking nightmare is over.
Simon buries his nose in her hair- was so certain he’d be bringing her home in a body bag he almost doesn’t know what to do with himself. She’s shaking in his grip, sobs ripping through her as he shushes her gently and murmurs “It’s alright, love. I’ve got you now.”
“As much as I love a good reunion- we need to get going, Ghost.” Price is ever the voice of reason, because Simon’s head is not in the game right now. 
He wants to cling to her and never let her go- he needs to pull his head out of his ass. 
Price isn’t wrong. As much as he has to fight off the impulse to tuck her against his side and keep her there, they have shit to do. 
He won’t truly be able to relax until she’s safely stowed on the helo and they’re on their way back.
It’s a bit easier once he puts the mask on. His brain is trained to focus on work and not let his personal life muddy the waters. Where Simon can’t help but falter, Ghost is dauntless. 
Simon can barely string a thought together now that he has her back in his arms. Simon still cannot believe she’s alive and breathing even after touching, smelling and hearing her. 
But Ghost can focus on getting her to the helo. 
Everything is a blur as Price and Gaz lead with Soap bringing up the rear. 
Ghost can’t quite decide where he wants her- keeps alternating between keeping her behind him in the event they get blindsided, that he’ll take any hits that go past Price or Gaz, or getting her in front of him so he can keep an eye on her, and there’s two SAS soldiers in front of her and two behind.
The hostiles in the building wanted the 141’s attention. Mission fucking accomplished.
The ones they chance across are dropped with ease. Simon is no stranger to returning to a location and making his point. Right now he’s got bigger concerns to be worried about. 
A knot of anxiety lodges itself on his ribcage as they move through the building that doesn’t unwind until he’s got her strapped to her seat in the helo. 
For the first time in days he can breathe. The knot slowly untangles as they ascend.
It finally settles in for both of them that she is out and she is safe. She’s been quiet the whole trek to the helo but Price, Soap, and Gaz have been on enough hostage recovery missions to not be caught off guard as she bursts into tears and buries her face in Ghost’s vest. 
It’s finally safe for her to do so, the adrenaline wearing off as she sobs. 
For the most part the other three men try to avert their eyes and not intrude.
Simon’s always been reserved about his life off base and watching him soothe his partner is bordering too personal for the others to witness.
It comes and goes in waves; Simon will settle her down, crooning quietly in her ear too low for the others to hear. She’ll stifle her tears for a bit as he soothes her. They go straight to medical after landing to have her looked at. She starts up again while waiting for the nurse to come back, trying to apologize to Simon through choked sobs. 
He won’t hear it, softly but firmly brushing her apologies to the side and assuring her everything’s fine now, love. No need to apologize.
He feels physically ill when the nurse delicately asks if she needs a rape kit or screenings done.
The rest of the 141 gives them a wide berth- which is a marked accomplishment because all too often Soap and Gaz are trailing behind him and finding some sort of shenanigans to get up to. Simon is perfectly content with the arrangement. He wants to focus his attention on her and that’s easier to do without the sergeants under foot.
His room on base is much like his entire apartment was before she moved in.
It’s 3am, Simon needs to take a piss and as he’s doing so, he’s not-quite eye level with a sign that says
“★★★★★ -
Would poop here again”
He’s got no idea when or where she found that, let alone put it up, but rolls his eyes good naturedly as he tucks himself away.
Normal people have bathroom decor.
Simon can appreciate a bit or a joke as much as the next person- but while this space is his it’s not something he’s ever felt the need to decorate. It’s a bed for him to crash on in between missions or if he’s too bloody exhausted to safely make the trek home.
There’s only one piece of any sort of personal touch to the room- a framed photo of her.
Simon intends to see her through the next few days- they’ll head home in the morning and realistically there’s only so long John can hold off on calling the boys in again. But the captain says he’ll do what he can to keep Simon home while they settle back in. He’s been due for some leave anyway.
He doesn’t sleep the first night. She swings drastically between being knocked out and jolting awake screaming and crying. Even once she’s gotten over the initial shock of her rescue it still takes time for her nervous system to calm down.
“I’ve got you, love- you’re safe here” he murmurs into her ear as she trembles like a leaf. “We’ll be home soon, yeah? You’ll feel better once you’re in our bed.”
The question is twofold- it is to soothe her, and also to gauge her reaction to the prospect of going home. Simon won’t hesitate to set the flat ablaze if it makes her feel better. 
Start fresh.
For now she seems to sleep better if he’s got her pinned up against the wall- the bulk of him a physical barrier to anything that might enter the room.
He’s always slept between her and the door so that’s no hardship- it just takes time to realize she feels safer trapped between him and the wall.
They make it through the first night in one piece, although the next morning she will not stop chewing on her nails. With someone else, he wouldn’t necessarily be surprised- but she’s never been a nail biter.
It dawns on him, as she sits on the couch and bursts into tears, that she wants the nails (or at least the ones that survived the ordeal) off, and is winding herself up too much to take them off the way she knows she should.
Simon goes to her office; he’s watched her enough that he knows the steps and the materials she’ll need, gathering them up before coaxing her to the table.
There’s no interest in redoing them but Simon manages to get the current sets off of her so she doesn’t damage her nail beds- assuming she stops chewing on them (which she does).
Over the next few days he lets her set the pace. She’s jumpy at home and calmer when he takes her out to run errands or just to stretch their legs. 
Maybe he will propose moving sooner rather than later. Their building is a shithole anyway.
He puts her in therapy after a week. It’s the only time he’s away from her. Realistically he knows it’s not good to have her so used to always being within arms length or eyesight of him- it’s not sustainable when eventually he will be called back in. But he has no qualms for the coddling he subjects her to while he’s able to. She’s quiet and comfortable with his hovering in a way she’d never tolerate before she was abducted- he figures he’ll know when she’s feeling a bit like herself again when she starts complaining about him not giving her any space.
Knowing she’s got the therapist gives him some security on how she’ll mentally cope when eventually he needs to leave again.
Her bursting into tears occurs less frequently. If Simon has to pry himself away from her to take a piss in the middle of the night she’s not up, back ramrod straight and waiting for him to come back with wet, teary eyes.
As the days tick on, bleeding into months later, Simon idly acknowledges that-short of when he’s on deployment- this is the longest they’ve gone without having sex. There’s nothing else that goes with that acknowledgement- he’s far more concerned with her well being than he is getting his kicks. He’s just taking stock of all their ‘normals’ and prior to her abduction they’d had quite the active sex life.
It’s one day as they’re watching a movie that it’s apparent Simon isn’t the only one aware of their dry spell.
They’re laying on the couch, her back pressed against his front with one of his heavy arms draped across her rib cage to keep her snuggled up against him as they watch the screen in front.
At first he thinks that she’s repositioning- thinks nothing of it and lifts his arm just enough to allow her the freedom to wiggle to a more comfortable spot. She keeps wiggling though and Simon is trying to keep his mind off the sensation of her arse grinding into his groin. Trying to ignore the way his dick twitches in interest, because- God help him- he's not dead and the love of his life is grinding her arse on him. Bodies are going to do what bodies do, and he can feel himself stiffening in response.
“Sweetheart, you need to sit still,” he whispers the plea into her ear. 
Her head tilts back towards him and lust jolts through his body at the look in her eyes while she still continues to grind against him.
“I miss you, Simon,” and given how he is rarely further than grabbing distance from her, there’s very few other ways to interpret what exactly it is that she is missing.
He’s a goner when she gives him that wide, doe eyed expression paired with the prettiest “Please?” he’s ever heard in his life.
One moment they’re quiet and content laying on their sides on the couch- the next Simon’s gripping her arm and pulling her on top of him as he settles onto his back. She follows his lead and moves so her weight is settled on his hips as his hands grip hers.
It is no hardship on his end to wait for her- the patience never truly even registered in his brain. She can have as much time as she needs and Simon will give it to her gladly.
But his pretty girl batting her eyes at him and pleading softly for him? His patience isn’t the only thing he’s willing to give her.
“Are you sure?” He doesn’t mean to second guess her or make her question herself but he does want to make sure that she’s not acting on obligation.
“Yes, Simon- Please,” and who is he to deny her?
His hands are on her immediately- pulling her towards him and encouraging her to grind, knowing her sweet clit will light up at the friction of her soft panties dragging across the rough material of his jeans.
His lips find hers, separating only briefly as he hauls her dress up and over her head, happily discarding the material in a heap on the floor.
His hands grip her hips, Simon relaxing into the couch while his fingers dug into the pillow soft skin perching above him. He’s straining against the fabric of his jeans- knows the tip of his erection is leaking clear pre and it’s not just going to be her being the reason the fabric has a wet spot.
The couch is certainly not the worst place to be, his beautiful girlfriend’s tits in his face as she grinds down in his lap with little hitching breaths.
“Just like that, pretty,” he encourages, kissing down her jawbone, the length of her neck and across her collar bone before happily mouthing at her breasts which are blessedly right in his face.
Simon groans in pleasure as he teases one nipple, her sweet mewls and the grip on his hair only spurring him on.
Grabbing a handful of her plush arse, he groans in anticipation while switching from one breast to the other.
It’s been a fair while since his back has been shredded by her nails and he can’t wait to feel the bite of them dragging down the length of his spine.
“Lift up, sweetheart,” he instructs, somewhat loath to release her plump bottom but eager to get her dripping for him.
She pulls up enough for him to slip one hand between her legs. Exploring fingers are quick to spread her wetness, dipping between her folds and dragging back up to circle her clit softly.
“Fuck- Simon!” she whines in his ear.
He knows enough by now what makes her tick. Once she’s all warmed up and ready to roll, that sweet cunt of hers could take a thrashing. But warming up involves feather-light touches to get her squirming and squealing for him.
“Feels good, pretty?” he asks despite knowing the answer in the way her arms wrap around his neck and she sags against him, hips twitching as she lets him tease her.
“Ye-yeah,” she murmurs, and presses her lips against his neck as he takes another pass- finger pulling away from her clit just to draw shivers from her as he traces back down her folds and presses ever so lightly against the entrance on her- just to the first knuckle- and making his way back to tease her clit.
Each pass has her rocking her hips more as he slips more of his finger inside, eventually adding a second that has her mewling and squirming in his lap.
He’s going to have one hell of a hickey from how she’s sucking on his neck, but Simon can’t bring himself to care. Not when his ears are graced with the delightful little noises she makes- whimpers of protest as he pulls his fingers out of her, the shaky inhales as he circles her clit and the trembling moan when he once again slides his fingers inside of her to give a few pointed strokes to her g-spot just to get her shivering and blinking up at him with lust-blown eyes.
“Fuck you’re wet,” there’s absolutely zero resistance now, even when he slides a third finger inside her. 
“Please,” she mewls into his skin, hips rocking in time with the thrust of his fingers into her.
“What do you want, sweetheart? Use your words.” He’s always found her an absolute delight to tease- she gets so flustered and stares at him with that doe eyed, betrayed look- how dare he make her ask for anything when it’s obvious what she wants.
“Please let me cum,” she pants as her eyes screw up in pleasure while his fingers trace and circle her clit for several passes.
“You wanna cum, love?” His tone is just a bit too soft to be a mocking tease despite the way she glares at him. Spoiled little thing so easily sliding back into her old habits.
“I’m going to bite you,” she grumbles in bemused annoyance, brows furrowing as she tries to follow his hand while teasing her.
He doesn’t doubt his little viper for a second, mollifying her displeasure with three fingers digging for that spot that makes her see stars.
“Oh~,” she mewls against him as he stokes the fires of her orgasm with a vengeance. He doesn’t stop, angling his hand so his thumb can stroke against her clit and enjoying the way she trembles against him like a leaf caught in a windstorm.
“That the spot, hm? Right there, innit?” He rumbles low in her ear, a satisfied smirk on his face as she nods in a big sweeping motion against his neck. “Come on, pretty. You wanna cum so badly? Do it.” he baits.
Mission accomplished.
Fuck he’ll remember the vision of her crying and cumming and trembling in his hold, soaking his forearm and abdomen as she squirts, for the rest of his days. His free hand runs soothingly down her back for a few passes before pulling both hands away from her.
She’s immediately whining against him, upset at having his touch taken away. “Simon, please-”
He shushes her with a kiss to her temple, “I know what you need, sweetheart,” he murmurs while deftly undoing his pants and freeing his cock.
It only takes a few strokes, already straining and ready to perform, before they’re shuffling as he pulls and maneuvers her so she’s hovering above him and Oh fuck has Simon missed this as she sinks down on him.
It always takes a couple attempts- he’s not a small man, and doesn’t want to risk injury. Not to mention there’s just something fucking delicious about only giving her a few inches, pulling back and feeding her just a few more. Slow, short, steady thrusts that get deeper bit by bit, having Simon ready to melt into the couch at the bliss of being buried in her by the time she sinks all of her weight onto him, her groin pressing against his.
She’s so fucking warm and wet, clinging to him as she shuffles to get good leverage on top of him to bounce.
Bloody fucking hell does she feel good. “That’s it, pretty. Take it all,” he encourages her while she whimpers above him- if he angles himself just right he can grind her clit against him in a way that has her sucking down air and shivering.
She’s so good for him but he knows there’s only so long she can bounce in his lap- even resting on one knee on the couch and her other foot on the floor so she can shift her weight and give leg a break every now and then, Simon throwing his head back and groaning loudly.
It’s one of the only times he’s particularly verbose- Usually content to be silent and broody unless he has a specific question in mind, the bedroom (or in this case the living room) is the one place where he is a chatterbox. The mouth on him is surreal at times, and while one would think his sweet girl would be use to the filth every now and then he’ll catch her off guard with some particularly out of pocket comment.
For now though, he’s a bit reserved- doesn’t want to go from zero to a hundred out of nowhere.
No, for now his attention is focused on the goddess bouncing on his cock, wondering if he can get her to squirt a second time if he just- he shifts underneath her, changing the angle and fucking hell does that seem to do the trick for her. Swiping one of his thumbs across his tongue before pressing it to her clit and circling again, Simon can’t help the smug look on his face when she squeals. “Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck,” he grunts as he thrusts up into her. From how those pretty thighs are trembling, her legs are about to give out as he fucks into her. 
“Simon!” She’s yelping his name with glassy eyes and a clenching cunt “Fuck- Simon! Please-”
She doesn’t have the energy to get herself back up again- poor thing, her thighs must be burning, and he can’t help but be a cocky fuck about the fact that she loves riding his dick to the point that she physically can’t keep going.
“On your back, sweetheart,” he instructs with a light swat to her ass- appreciating the way her body jiggles at the impact.
His sweet girl has done so well and worked so hard, it’s only right that he rewards her. Once she’s on her back he grips her under her knees and folds her legs back- gives himself room between those gorgeous thighs.
“Fuck, baby- please don’t stop,” she pants underneath him, back arching in pleasure as his mouth drops to her breasts again. Her arms wrap loosely around his neck, and he twitches in anticipation at the feel of her nails tracing ever so lightly against his back.
“Not gonna stop, pretty girl.” he groans against her skin, alternating between which nipple he has between his teeth.
Fuck she’s clenching down on him like a vice. He knows she’s getting close; squirming in his grip, keeping her legs nice and spread for him. The feel of her nails reaching down his back and dragging up his spine pulls a groan that would be embarrassing if Simon could find it within himself to care in the slightest. The slight pain encourages him as he cants against her.
“Simon!” The sound of his hips knocking into the back of her thighs is loud and messy. Fuck he’s such a goner when she looks up at him with that sweet expression on her face- pure adoration and wonder in her eyes.
“Just like that, sweetheart. Fucking hell, love,” he grunts out, a second wind reinvigorating him when she starts shaking. Those plush thighs shaking in his hold as he knocks the sense out of her pretty head, he’s so fucking close he can taste it but is determined to get her across the finish line first.
“Such a good fucking girl,” he purrs in her ear, “You feel fucking perfect taking my cock. This wet cunt’s all mine, innit?”
All she can do is chant “Yes! Yes! Yes!” over and over again- Simon’s not sure if even she is certain if she’s repeating the word to answer him, or if she’s just babbling because he’s making her feel good and she’s getting close.
“You gonna cum again love? Gonna soak me, hm?” He’s just running his mouth now- knows the shit she likes to hear, reaffirmed by the way she’s shivering in his hold and crying for it with a glassy eyed gaze.
Whatever she is going to respond with is cut off with a squeal. Simon rears back, enjoying the show as she makes a mess all over his cock with her eyes rolled back. He lets go of one of her legs in favor of teasing her clit just shy of overstimulation to prolong her orgasm- she lets him for a time before her hands abandon shredding his back in favor of wrapping around his wrist in a plea for mercy. 
“Simon it’s too much,” she laments with teary eyes as he pulls his hand away with a chuckle and a chaste kiss. 
He stays curled over her, hips driving into hers. “Tell me where you want it,” he instructs.
“Inside! Please, I want it inside!” Her answer is sharp and immediate, the leg not pinned to her chest wrapping around his waist like she is daring him to even try to pull out.
And fuck there is something cathartic about his orgasm when it hits. Burying his face in her soft body while his hips snapped into hers a few times, Simon groans as his vision damn near whites out for a second.
Simon knows better than most that there’s good days and bad days- and a presumed good day can become a bad day quicker than one can blink. But overall he feels like consistently she’s doing better all around. They take their time calming down, Simon showering her in attention and getting a feel for where her head is at. Praising her for how well she did and making sure she feels stable.
He lets out a breath, feeling confident that she’s settled, having a good day, and everything is fine for now. 
And it is. Until about two hours later.
One moment they’re finishing the movie they’d initially started before the impromptu romp on the couch, and then Simon has a 3 second warning of her sniffling as she obviously tries to fight back the tears and then she’s sobbing harder than she has in weeks.
Simon goes from content to concerned in a second, his blood turning to ice in his veins. His immediate assumption is that their prior activities finally caught up with her mentally and now that she’s had time to think it over it wasn’t good. It was too fucking soon to have sex. He should have told her no, should have been gentler, should have-
“Sweetheart? Talk to me,” his voice is tinged with a thinly controlled concern (not panic he convinces himself) and while he means to comfort her, she can hear his tone and that just sets her off anew.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she blubbers, turning to face him. “I don’t know why I’m crying!”
That settles Simon’s nerves somewhat, stroking her back and pulling her close to comfort her. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” he soothes her, listening to her sniffle against his shirt after shoving her into the crook of his neck.
“I just want to feel normal again,” she sobs into his collar.
“You will, love,” he assures her- never mind that ‘normal’ is something that even he struggles with on a near daily basis. “It’ll take time but you’ll get there. I promise.”
He’s a bastard for making a promise to her that he can’t guarantee to keep. There’s a part of him that knows that- hell, he’s been working on his shit for years and he still doesn’t feel normal most days.
But while he can’t promise that she’ll ever get back to feeling exactly the same as she did before all of this happened, he can promise that he’ll be by her side and ensure she’s adjusting. It will take time, and work, but Simon will make sure she gets there one step at a time.
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guillotinebypierre · 5 months
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Y/n POV
*Knock Knock*
"Are you ready, jagi? I just finished preparing all the cameras and the lighting. We're good to go if you are."
I stood in front of the 'dressing room' of the star of the show. It was inside a small trailer set up at the cliff of a hill near Seoul, overlooking the city. It was pretty dark outside, naturally, as it was already night time. The city lights lit up the surrounding area, creating a breathtaking view, and the scenery for todays episode of my girlfriend's show, 'Chuu Can Do It'. Normally we'd have a whole crew with us, but due to this episode being a special (and kinda difficult one to film), they tasked me with doing the filming part alone.
What was once just a small project made to get people to become more environmentally conscious and start helping our planet eventually turned out to be a huge project that helped during very dark times and very annoying lawsuits. I met Jiwoo a little after graduation. My goal was to pursue a career in filmmaking, or really anything where I could use my photography and filmmaking skills.
Jiwoo was a year older than me and a walking ball of sunshine. When I met her, she was starting to become a trainee in order to pursue her dream of becoming a kpop idol. I didn't know much about the industry back then as I mostly listened to western music and didn't really care much about the often foreign concept of Korea's celebrities, but for her I learned about it. I also met the rest of her friends, all 11 of them, and things just kinda evolved from there.
Me and Jiwoo became close friends almost immediately, her happy and extroverted personality starkly contrasting my rather quiet one, yet somehow we completed each other. Opposites really do attract, or whatever that saying says.
I asked her out on a date after we'd been friends for almost a year. It was probably the scariest thing I'd done up to that point, and in retrospect it was really stupid because I didn't even ask about dating bans beforehand, but she was insanely ecstatic about me asking. She jumped on me and became all giddy talking about what she wanted to do for our date.
I've been with her through literally everything, from the highs of her career until the deepest and most depressing moments. She never told me anything about her contract because she thought I'd be worrying too much, but I wasn't blind. I could tell that she wasn't feeling well and the stress was getting to her. This is why I was the first one to encourage her with suing that disgusting company.
On a happier note though, Jiwoo was the one to recommend me to do the filming for all her content. I was the one doing her photos, her group's photoshoots, everywhere I could I helped.
Today I was tasked with helping Jiwoo do an episode on smog and air pollution for her channel. The episode required me to do some basic landscape and sky shots, comparing the air out in the city and in the 'wilderness'. The first portion of it was already finished, seeing as it was needed to be done in the morning. We also filmed an interview with a scientist and were now supposed to also do some shots of the sky during nighttime.
Jiwoo and I also decided to just stargaze after finishing the episode as a small celebration of her and her members winning their lawsuits.
"Yeah just come in for a second, I need your help", her muffled voice came from behind the door.
I walked in and saw her still in her bathrobe and doing her make up.
"What's up, Jiwoo?"
"Sit on the couch, Y/n.", she told me.
I walked over and plopped myself on the small couch in the middle of the trailer.
"*Sigh* I can't believe we actually did it.", she said while tearing up.
I immediately got up and hugged her, letting her cry herself out on my shoulder.
"What do you mean, jagi? Are you talking about winning-"
"Y-Yeah", she cut me off.
It killed me to see her like this. To see my own sun be riddled with sadness. Nobody deserved to go through all the shit she and her members had to go through, especially not her.
"I know, I'm so proud of you girls for doing it and winning that lawsuit. You can't imagine how many idols you're helping by showing that they shouldn't throw away their humanity for random company."
She cried even more, her tears soaking my grey pullover as I just held her and waited for her to calm down.
Jiwoo's cries soon faded and I really thought she had fallen asleep until I heard her voice from my shoulder.
"I- I wanted to thank you, Y/n", she said, her voice slightly cracking
"You've been such a big help throughout all this and with the show and filming, taking photos-"
"Jiwoo you don't have to thank me for anything-"
"But I want too."
Her voice shifted slightly, her teary, breaking voice being replaced by something more playful, something more daring and teasing. She looked up from my shoulder while smiling slightly.
Her smile had always been my weakness, it had always been. It made it easy to trust her, easy to melt into her, easy to feel safe, easy to feel comfortable around her.
Her robe fell to the floor, exposing her nude body, while her hands palmed the outside of my sweatpants, feeling my bulge as I slowly crept back towards the couch. My legs soon hit the welt of the couch as I fell back, Jiwoo falling on top of my lap. Her hands moved around and interlocked behind my neck before pulling my head forwards and smashing our hips together.
Her kiss was delicate, much like her personality. It was deeply soothing, relaxing, even a little nostalgic. It was something raw, something reminiscent of driving through the city of Seoul in the night, something we had done oh so often. The kiss was passionate all the same, it was as if she was finally letting go of all of her pent up emotions, all her pent up frustrations.
Our bodies moved in one fluid motion, complementing each other, completing each other. My hands danced around her naked skin, touching and taking in everything.
We soon separated, both panting for air as a string of saliva connected our lips. I looked at Jiwoo, once again seeing that beautiful smile that made my heart do backflips every time, making me fall harder and harder for her.
Her hands moved and started pulling at my shirt, trying to take it off at an awkward angle. I moved to make it easier for her before she squatted slightly in order for me to slip off my pants and underwear. My erection stood tall and proud, hitting against her bellybutton as I now felt her wet juices coating my thighs. Jiwoo once again pulled my face down and started attacking me again.
Her hips moved in a circular motion, rubbing against me, the friction causing tingles down my spine before she finally stood up slightly and aligned myself with her wet pussy and squatted down.
A familiar sensation spread around my body as all my senses were overwhelmed and shut down. Her body clamped down on my as her upper body held us close, each body part rubbing against each other. Her legs wrapped around my torso as her vagina moulded itself around my dick. My hands moved onto her ass before grabbing it and raising and slamming herself onto my member.
Her legs soon started to spread as her brain couldn't focus on keeping them around me, her mouth opening as lewd noises filled the room we were in. Her head was thrown back as I continued attacking her body with kisses and hickeys. Our skin slapped against each other with each thrust, each time melting us into each other even more.
My body was on fire, my chest rising and falling in rapid succession as if fuelled by a motor as it tried to breathe in all the oxygen I was exerting. My head was also leaning on the backrest of the sofa, groans and moans coming out of me like a symphony of crude noises. My hips pumped myself into my girlfriend, letting go of all the frustration and stress I had as a familiar comfortable burning sensation started boiling inside my stomach.
My thighs were soaked, the wetness creating squelching noises every time Jiwoo landed on me, due to her arousal. My girlfriend's screams grew louder to the point where other campers in the nearby area could probably hear her before she finally hit her high, a high pitched scream coming out of her throat as she hugged me so tight I might have been crushed.
Her pussy tightened around my, creaming on me as it leaked onto my lap, the insides of her milking me as if I were a cow. My stomach felt warner and warner as my own climax neared. I continued fucking her through her high before finally unleashing myself inside her, filling Jiwoo up to the brim while falling over on her.
We both breathed in heavily, desperately trying to catch our breaths. We stayed in that position for a while, just enjoying each other's company before finally getting up and getting dressed.
---
3rd Person POV
The two got out and onto the designated filming area. Y/n quickly took out the necessary equipment, which he had put away before knocking on Jiwoo's door, and started going over the whole filming session with his girlfriend again. He walked over to the lawn chair and started filming.
The sky was beautiful on this side of town, the stars were visible, tempting him to start counting each of them as he started doing the cinematography for the episode.
Time passed and Y/n was about to finish filming before he suddenly felt someone playing around with his pants. His vision shifted quickly, looking down at himself as he was met with the familiar smile of his girlfriend. She simply nodded up, indicating for him to focus on the footage before sliding off his underwear, being hit by his semi hard member.
Her hand wrapped around the base, stroking him a bit until he reached her desired hardness. Jiwoo then continued by sucking on the tip, mixing her saliva with the leaking pre cum as Y/n gathered every ounce of self control he had to keep a steady hand on the camera.
Jiwoo's head bopped up and down as she moved her tongue all around Y/n's dick, trying to suppress any noise that could be heard on the footage. Her cheeks formed an vacuum around her boyfriends cock as she licked from the shaft up to the tip, throating as much as she could before tightening around him.
Y/n tightened his grip on the camera, using whatever little self control he had to not throw it away and give all his attention to the woman on her knees in front of him.
Jiwoo, determined to make him mess up, decided to spice things up and started using both of her hands to jack him off in a twisting motion while also sucking and slurping him off, creating a kind of cycle of pleasure.
This combination almost led to Y/n coming undone right then and there but he still had one trick up his sleeve. He grabbed Jiwoo's head with one arm and pushed her down, making her take every single inch of his length while also silencing her. Her throat tightened around him and gripped every part of his member, subsequently making him climax in a geyser of hot, sticky, liquid that coated her entire oesophagus.
With a shaky hand, Y/n pressed the button on the camera to finish the recording, before putting the camera to the side and exhaling.
Jiwoo stood up, her cheeks puffed, filled with Y/n's cum, before she stood up and gulped, showing her tongue afterwards.
"You're going to get one of us fired one day, you know?"
"As if. Relax, jagi. I don't even have a boss anymore~"
"I just hope nothing was captured by the camera-"
"Relax, Y/n. You can just watch it back later and cut it out or we'll just film again later. Now how about you go put that expensive equipment away and join me back inside? I think our celebration isn't finished yet."
Y/n sighed before standing up and cleaning up while Jiwoo walked back inside their rented trailer.
"It's going to be a long night.", he said before opening the door and locking it.
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x0x0josephinex0x0 · 5 months
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little wonders | wonwoo
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genre: childhood bsf!wonwoo x reader, game developer!wonwoo, all fluff, a day in the park in autumn, comfort <3 warnings: reader is not in a great place mentally, but no explicit mental illness is named. skinniness is brought up, disordered eating is mentioned, childhood bike crash & stitches mentioned, gendered terms used (woman), dresses and makeup mentioned, jeonghan makes an appearance, reader mentions church once, lmk if i'm missing anything
You plunk out a single, despondent note on the piano, and look glumly around the empty room in your brand new apartment - empty but for the terribly out-of-tune piano the last owner left behind for you after hearing you were musically inclined. The off-key note hangs in the air like the melancholy loneliness that was your seemingly constant companion these past few days. You can’t even muster up the energy to sigh.
This is not what you had expected when you had decided to follow your dreams. You were finally here -- in New York City, the place where you had always wanted to live, working in your dream career. And yet, although this was a change you had desperately wanted to make for yourself, you felt drained, alone, and empty. Plus, there was the crushing worry that always accompanied guilt. After all, you couldn’t help but remember all the friends and family members, some of whom relied on you, whom you had left behind. All for this -- to sit in your sad, empty apartment, alone on weekends. From where you sit on this raggedy piano bench, it looks embarrassingly foolish. 
Your phone buzzes. It’s your mother. You stare at her name on the screen, debating silently. If you don’t answer, she’ll be worried. If you do, she’ll also be worried. There really isn’t any way to win. You choose the third option, texting her as your phone continues to ring: “Sorry, I’m busy right now and can’t talk! I’ll call you later.”
She texts back after the call goes to voicemail. “Ok, just wanted to make sure you’re alright!”
“I’m alright,” you reply, “Just getting settled in. I love you!”
That ought to hold her off for a couple hours, you say, stretching. Tired, you lay your arms on the piano keys and then let your head fall, your eyelids fluttering closed. 
You are abruptly awakened at the sound of a knock at your door. Thinking of all the horror stories that start this way, you creep forward and look through the peephole. Standing at your door is a tall, good-looking man wearing glasses and a black baseball cap. It’s Wonwoo, your childhood best friend and now new neighbor, who made the move to the city a few years before you had and lived two floors above you. 
You curse under your breath. You’re in a raggedy tank top and pajama bottoms, and quite aside from Wonwoo being the most attractive person you know, he knows you well enough to know that if you’re dressed like this, it probably means that you’re not doing well. 
He knocks again, and calls out to you, just as you debate leaving him to rot on your doorstep. “I know you’re in there,” he says, and there’s a laugh in his voice. 
Frustrated, you crack the door open just a tad, so that all he can see is your face. “Hi,” he says, and the way he beams when he sees you is almost enough to dispel the melancholy. “It’s been awhile.”
It really has. Wonwoo had been out of town on a business trip when you’d moved in a month ago, and had only yesterday returned from some distant town. You hadn’t seen him in person since he’d moved to the city two years ago, although you had spoken frequently and had partially made the move because of him. “Hi,” you say back, trying to sound normal, but sounding dumb even to yourself. 
He shoots you a quizzical look. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” you hedge. “You look good.”
“Thanks,” he says, still looking at you suspiciously. “Can I come in, or are you naked in there?”
You glower at him, and then step from behind the door so he can see your outfit. “Not naked. I don’t really have anything for you to sit in, though.”
“Well, that’s okay,” he says, stepping across the threshold. “I don’t need to sit.” He walks into your empty living room, turning around, a sad half-smile on your face. “Your mom called me,” he tells you.
“She what?” you ask him.
“She’s worried about you,” he says, moving over to the empty mantle. It’s covered in dust, and you blush with embarrassment. “Honestly, I’m a little worried too.” 
Your eyes fill with tears. You had anticipated a large, loud, warm housewarming party with new friends from work and church and other social events, but no one had ever even been inside your apartment but you. All at once, you feel empty and lonely and nearly invisible, and the feeling overwhelms you. You wait till Wonwoo’s back is turned before breaking down completely.
He notices right away anyway. “Hey,” he says, his tone gentle, and he crosses the room in two strides to pull you into his arms.
It’s been a long time since anyone hugged you, and the last hug you’d given Wonwoo was awkward, observed by both of your parents, who had long wanted something to happen between you two. You were surprised at how much he’d seemed to grow in the two years he’d been absent from your life -- you remembered hugging him had felt bony and uncomfortable because of how skinny he'd been as a teen, but now, cradled in his arms, you felt the muscle beneath his shirt and jacket. It was comforting and warm here, like a piece of home you desperately need, and you let the tears flow freely, watching as they hit the red pattern on his jacket. 
Your shock continues when, as you sob into Wonwoo’s chest, you feel his hand on the back of your head, offering gentle strokes of your hair. The Wonwoo who’d left you for New York had been the kind of person who was awkward with physical touch. He had rarely hugged you -- not even when you’d graduated high school together, not at your last performance that he’d come to see. This new affection from him is both confusing and vital for you. You breathe him in, needing this closeness more than you need air, letting him hold you until the tears stop. 
When they finally do, he pulls back to look at you. “What’s going on?” he asks, brushing the wet stickiness of your tears off your face with the back of his jacket. 
“I think I bit off more than I can chew,” you tell him, still sniffling. “Was it hard for you, when you first moved away?”
He thinks for a minute. “I don’t think I ever cried this much,” he admits, still stroking the back of your head. “But I also don’t think I’m naturally that social. I think you’ve been alone here for far too long.”
You nod in agreement. He tucks you into his chest again, swaying back and forth soothingly. “Why haven’t you had anyone over?” he asks. “It’s hard for me to imagine you haven’t made any new friends here.”
“I really haven’t,” you admit, and the guilt washes over you again. Tears choke your voice. “All I do is go to work, and then I come home to this. I can’t invite people over to a place where there’s no furniture, and I don’t even have anyone to help me move it in.”
“You have me,” he reminds you. 
“Now,” you tell him. “You were gone.”
He sighs. “Well, I’m not going anywhere far for a good long while,” he tells you, giving you a little squeeze. 
There is a brief pause in the conversation before he continues. “I think you haven’t bought new furniture because you’re thinking of leaving. Am I right?”
You are once again shocked. “How did you know?”
He chuckles. “I didn’t have furniture for a week after I moved here.”
“Really?” you ask, pulling away to look at him. “I thought it wasn’t as hard for you.”
“No, I just didn’t cry as much,” he says, still grinning. “I struggled plenty for a week or so.”
“It’s been a month,” you remind him, starting to feel panicky again. “I’ve been here a month, and things haven’t gotten better.”
His eyes are kind. “Everyone moves at their own pace,” he says gently.
You shake your head. “I wanted to move here so bad,” you say bitterly. “I thought I was finally going to live the life I always dreamed about. And I’m just miserable.” You hate how your voice shakes, and how the tears begin to well up in your eyes again. “I think there’s something wrong with me,” you whisper to him, the worry in your voice evident.
He smiles at you. “What you’re feeling right now is very normal. Whenever anyone makes a big change like this, it takes time to adjust.” 
His eyes suddenly light up. “Go change. Wear something warm,” he says. “It’s a bit chilly. We’re going out.”
“But --” you start to protest, but he lightly shoves you toward your bedroom door. 
“Go,” he says, exasperated but laughing. “I promise you it’ll be good for you.”
You reluctantly change into a sweater and jeans, throwing a puff-top beanie on top of your mess of hair. Tumbling out of your room and putting on your favorite pair of boots, you face him. “Okay, I’ll play along,” you say, a little breathless. “Where are we going?”
“I’m going to show you,” he says, grabbing your hand and running out the door so fast you barely have time to lock it.
It’s no time before you’re in the brisk fall air, the sun spotty between clouds, the chill nipping your nose. You struggle to keep up with Wonwoo, whose energetic pace is not like him. Normally quiet and reserved, you had normally been the one dragging him out on adventures. He must be very excited, you reason to yourself, and you can’t help but smile. The thought makes you feel warm.
The first place you stop is at a meatball sandwich restaurant. “This is the best meatball sandwich in the world,” Wonwoo says, accepting the foil-wrapped meal with a thank you to the tubby gentleman who hands it to him. “Try it.”
You do — and an explosion of flavors hit your mouth. You look at Wonwoo with wide eyes, and he grins at you. “You were right,” you say, taking another bite and handing him the other half of the sandwich. The depression of the past month had guaranteed that you did not eat much, because making food was so overwhelming and hard. But this reminder of how food could taste brought you some hope that your energy would return. You try not to cry as you look down at the sandwich, and Wonwoo takes you by the hand to guide you to the next place.
“This city is home to some of the best food in the world,” Wonwoo reminds you as you walk hand in hand. “It’s pretty crazy that we live two blocks from that sandwich.” He then looks at you, and you can see the awkward teenager he used to be shining out from his eyes. “If you ever…well, if you ever don’t feel like eating again, you can let me know. I’ll take any excuse to go back to one of my favorite places. I can even grab it to go and bring it to you if you can’t go out.”
You don’t know how to respond to this thoughtfulness, so you just take another bite. You have suddenly become very aware of his hand in yours, his fingers intertwined with your own like you used to do as kids, and you’re glad that it’s chilly so that he can’t differentiate from the sting of the cool air and the blush that has stolen up your cheeks.
You stop at Central Park. It’s beautiful on this gloomy day — the fall colors are popping against the cloudy sky, and the occasional bursts of sun seem to set the world on fire around you. Wonwoo points at bluebirds that flit around the branches of the trees, making you laugh as he tries to imitate the sound they make in the morning. “Do you remember Mr. Scarecrow?” you ask him suddenly, remembering in elementary school when Wonwoo used to walk in a whacky, limp stride at your request. 
He smiles. “Of course,” he says, letting go of your hand to lurch around on the empty path. 
You giggle. “We were weird kids,” you admit. “What was that about?”
He looks at you, his smile softening with nostalgia. “It’s not that strange,” he says. “I just loved hearing you laugh.” This revelation hits you right in the heart, and it thumps hard. You have to take a deep breath to calm yourself. After the numbness of the last month, any feeling is foreign, but it is especially odd to be feeling this with - and about - Wonwoo. Wonwoo, who you’ve known since before you could read. Wonwoo, who was at every performance and event, whose parents set you up on play dates, who dated girls in high school and watched you date boys, who knows you better than almost anyone, and with whom it now feels like absolutely no time has passed, even though it’s been years. You are amazed, thinking of how quickly you’d adjusted to having him in your life, and how comfortably he fit there. It feels like a line is being crossed, and you can’t tell what exactly waits on the other side of it.
When he comes back to stand next to you, he doesn’t take your hand again, and you are strangely hollow at the thought that maybe he really was just showing you around — maybe the frantic beating of your heart against your chest was nothing close to how his own heart felt with you. You try not to be crushed at this idea. To occupy your hands, you shove them in your pockets, striding alongside Wonwoo as he tells animated stories about his life in New York and his job as a game developer, and even despite yourself, you find yourself grinning.
Suddenly, Wonwoo gets a call. He checks his phone and his eyes get wide. “Hey, Jeonghan,” he says in answer, giving you a significant look. “You know that girl I was telling you about? I’m with her right now.”
You shoot him a quizzical look. He grins, half-listening to his friend on the other end. “Oh?” He says, nodding. “Yeah, I think we could stop by for a few minutes tonight.”
You point at yourself in disbelief. As Wonwoo hangs up, you ask, “what was that about?”
“My boss wants to meet you. He’s really cool. I told him we’d come by his party tonight if you were okay with it.”
Your stomach turns over. “I don’t know,” you say. 
“I thought you might say that,” he says, and throws his arm around your shoulder. “But we have awhile until then. We could go home and get ready right now, and still have some time to chill beforehand.”
The way he says it — like he plans on being there with you the whole time — comforts you. “You’ll never make friends here if you don’t find courage to try to meet people,” Wonwoo says, rubbing your shoulders gently. “I know it’s hard sometimes, but these people have heard about you. And they’re really good people.” 
You feel warm inside. “What did you tell them about me?” you ask him. 
“Just that you’re my best friend and I was really excited for you to move here,” he says, not meeting your eyes. 
You can tell there are things he’s not telling you, but you decide not to pressure him. “Okay,” you agree. “Let’s go then.” 
🥰🥰🥰
Three hours later, you’re standing in your living room, your hair done and wearing an acceptable amount of makeup, in a little black dress Wonwoo picked out for you. “Are you sure this is okay?” you ask him as he emerges from your bathroom, wearing a white button-down and black pants. 
You find yourselves staring at each other. “Wow,” you say in unison. He looks stunning, and he simultaneously looks stunned. “I forgot how well you clean up,” you say first. 
“You look beautiful,” he says, his eyes wide as he examines you. 
You blush. “Thanks.” He doesn’t move, just looks at you, still taking you in. You grin. “If we don’t go now, we’ll probably be late.”
He seems to shake himself into reality. “Right,” he says, grabbing your hand, and you lock your apartment door on your way out.
He holds your hand all the way down the stairs, helps you into the cab, and looks at you with a small smile as it pulls away. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay,” you say honestly. It feels good to be going somewhere dressed up, and you find that your anxiety is greatly calmed by how peaceful Wonwoo seems. You examine him in the lights from passing cars and billboards as the taxi crawls through New York traffic. “You seem happier,” you tell him. 
He nods, looking out the window. “I am,” he says simply.
“I’m glad,” you say.
He takes your hand again. “Me too,” he says, interlocking your fingers. 
The cab lets you out near a huge skyscraper. Wonwoo opens the door for you, helping you out of the car and keeping hold of your hand as you approach the doorman. “Hi, John,” Wonwoo says. “We’re just here for Jeonghan’s thing.”
The doorman smiles widely. “I’m glad you brought that girl you always talk about!” he exclaims, holding out a pudgy hand. “Good to finally meet you!”
“Thank you?” You say, a bit of a question in your voice, and you look at Wonwoo. He’s blushing deeply, but he looks happy to have introduced you to this guy. 
John lets you in, and you head to the elevator. Wonwoo hits the 15 button, and you turn to him as the doors close. “How much do you talk about me?” 
He smiles widely. “Enough,” he says. “Didn’t you talk about me while I was away?”
“Everyone I know already knows you,” you tell him, both flattered and embarrassed. “What have you been telling them about me?”
The elevator dings. Wonwoo smiles mysteriously, before grabbing your hand to lead you into the penthouse. 
It’s luxurious and decorated with tasteful, minimalist art. As you turn the corner, a group of people call greetings to you and Wonwoo, and he raises the hand you aren’t holding to wave. “Hi,” he says to his friends, a few of whom jog over to shake your hand. One of them, clearly the host of the party, looks you up and down before twirling you. 
“You’re even prettier than he said,” he says, winking at Wonwoo. “I’m Jeonghan.”
“Thanks,” you say, looking at Wonwoo hesitantly.
“We’ve heard a lot about you,” he says kindly, leading you over to the rest of the group. “We have so many questions for you.”
A tall, dark-haired boy in the corner calls out to you. “What was Wonwoo like as a child?”
“Shorter,” you say automatically, and the group laughs, including Wonwoo, who nods his agreement.
“I didn’t like to share my toys or other things,” he admits. “I’m still that way.”
“Is that why it took you so long to bring her to meet us?” someone asks, and everyone laughs.
He gives a small smile. “If I hadn’t been gone, that might have been part of it.” He grins at you. “The things I like the most are the hardest to share.”
You feel yourself flush red. “He wasn’t all that bad,” you say. “He was also very loyal and honest, even as a baby. Once an older kid shoved me down, and he didn’t know what to do, so he sat down next to me and cried with me. He’s still that way, too.”
“He did say you have a gift for seeing the good in people,” says Jeonghan, the teasing tone of voice clear. “Even if it’s hard.”
“It’s not that hard,” you say quickly, and Wonwoo beams.
You continue speaking with Wonwoo’s friends. They are kind, interested in you, and full of life and laughter. You feel at home — even though this is one of the nicest apartments you’ve ever been in, and these people began the evening as complete strangers to you. A piece of your heart seems to heal. 
Still, you are grateful when Wonwoo offers to show you the view from the balcony. After being isolated for a month, the company feels nice, but overwhelming. You sigh as the cool air hits your skin, and you drink in the sight of the city lights twinkling at you from below. 
“They’re not so bad,” you finally admit to Wonwoo, gesturing back at the group. 
“They like you, too,” he tells you, leaning against the railing of the balcony.
“Will you ever tell me what you told them about me?” you ask him softly.
His eyes are starry in the darkness. He pushes slowly off the railing of the balcony and takes a step toward you. “Sure,” he says, his voice casual, but his gaze is intense. “What I didn’t tell them is more interesting, though.”
“What didn’t you tell them?” you breathe, close enough that when you speak your breath moves his hair.
He grabs both your hands. “I didn’t tell them a lot. I didn’t tell them about the time we were learning to ride bikes together, and we crashed into each other so badly that you needed stitches, but you wouldn’t let your mom drive away without giving me bandaids and pain medicine. I think that was the first time I realized what kind of person you were. 
“I didn’t tell them how I spent all our lives trying to stay close to you without really understanding my reasons for it. How I got angry every time you dated a boy that wasn’t me, and they mistreated you. How I looked for you in the eyes of every short-lived relationship I had with anyone else. And how whenever I was less than compassionate to myself, it was you that helped me be gentler. I left out the part where you were the one who taught me what it meant to be loved.”
He steps closer again, and you are so close that your noses are almost touching. He brings a hand up to your chin, tilting it up. “And I also left off the part where you knew me better than anyone, and vice versa. I didn’t tell them that being around you is the happiest I ever am, even on your worst days, even when you worry about not being able to be fun or happy or excited for everyone else. That you left home to follow your dreams, but you feel guilty about those you love that you left behind. That you can become emotionally attached to anything, even the cracks on the sidewalk. How every little thing with you — even just a sandwich or a walk in the park — feels like something special to me, because you make it that way. That everywhere you go, you bring some kind of small magic with you.” He is gazing into your eyes now, begging you to see what he’s trying to tell you. “I didn’t tell them a lot.”
“What did you tell them, then?” you whisper.
He smiles at you, his eyes gentle and full of joy. “I told them they would finally get to meet the woman I love.”
You feel yourself beaming at him. His thumb caresses your cheek before he whispers to you, “I also don’t think I’ll tell them about what happens next.”
And with that, he leans down and presses his lips to yours. You throw your arms around his neck, smiling against his lips, and laugh when he starts to kiss your cheek and temples and nose and jawline. “You love me?” you ask him as he lifts your feet from the floor, still showering you in kisses.
“Of course I do,” he says. “I have for almost my whole life.”
“I love you too,” you say, cupping his cheek in your hand and kissing him back. 
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thirdtidemouse · 4 months
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i have to do more bc she isnt rly brought to life yet.. she will change a LOT... but this is dylan :-] (hammarlund? underhill?) i couldn't not do a hilda oc and i couldnt not make it a nervous werewolf. she stresses herself out but is surprisingly organised about cooking, one of the famously stressful activities. she spends a full day planning out a meal, cooking for herself and kaisa (thank god. that nerd cannot cook) and then asks for detailed reviews.
she is very stressed out about being a werewolf though. she has just finished being a teenager and this is kind of that all over again. she does not want ANYONE to find out and confides reluctantly only in kaisa. what she fears is people fearing her, and she feels like the moment her life has been pieced back together again, she's losing grip, again. it's almost a black hound situation when the people of trolberg hear about a werewolf sneaking around. some episode centred around the mystery ensues.
she likes food + music! although she's more of an amateur at music, she owns + plays a guitar, a mandolin, a banjo, and a harmonica. very folksy. she has a swedish-welsh accent. try and imagine it please.
the default sister dynamic is kaisa getting home from work late (she probably lives in a flat in/around the library), and dylan being in the midst of homemade ravioli or something with a sauce that took 6 hours. kaisa asks about her day to be polite. dylan tells her about the sauce that took 6 hours, a long hike, 3 different invasive plant species, a lot of butter, and the use of powertools. kaisa has been re-shelving niche history of magic books but got so caught up re-reading them that it also took up 6 hours. when they have eaten dylan asks for her opinion and scribes the whole thing down in her notebook as kaisa voices her 5 star yelp review. they do not ask anything else about each others days and interact mainly through dylan slow-motion fake-punching kaisa while she is trying to just hang out in the living room or do her work and is ignored. only when she is in a very good mood will kaisa fake-punch back. dylan has a lethal case of younger-sister-that-is-taller syndrome.
sorry for my handwriting but the vague outline of her backstory WHICH MAY PROBABLY CHANGE is:
from the time she was 8 and kaisa was 21, they lived alone together. kaisa became a full-fledged witch between then and age 25, when suspicion against witches was on the rise for a short while - dylan never became a witch, but the only trusted adults in her life (basically kaisa and tildy) were, and they decided it would be best for her to grow up somewhere less troublesome. they were both pretty messed up about her having to move away, dylan holding some kind of spite toward her sister for a while, and kaisa feeling incapable, guilty and ill-equipped to take care of her.
she went to school in wales at 12, living with as-yet-unspecified family members/friends, and while kaisa almost immediately regretted sending her away, dylan adjusted quickly and spent the rest of her school career there. after a few years she forgave kaisa, because she ultimately enjoys her life, but she is stilll missed at home. at 17 going on 18 she became a werewolf (whether she was bitten or it was always in her somewhere?) and four months later she finished sixth form and called kaisa out of the blue asking if she could come and move in. since they didn't live in trolberg before, she's new to the city.
i will write more cohesively about her relationships to other characters/flesh her out more later, ESPECIALLY the werewolf stuff, but now i have to go to bed. thank you for reading :-] feel free to ask/suggest anything about her!! i love discussing hilda ocs
by the way this is i think my first ever actual OC? i've made up others before but they've just been single designs i've never really thought much about their actual selves because i suck at writing. dylan is the first one thats really stuck. part of her is based off myself and people i know, most of her is not. the main similarity between us is double-denim.
this is fun though. critique is welcome
(obviously her werewolf self is a swedish elkhound. i know the design kind of just looks like a furry im working on it)
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odinsblog · 6 months
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“Jann Wenner, the founder of Rolling Stone magazine, has now found himself in hotdog water after an interview with New York Times writer David Marchese, where he revealed that the reason he did not include Black or female artists in his book is because they were not in his ‘zeitgeist,’ and he did not feel that female artists were ‘articulate enough on this intellectual level.’”
Jann Wenner is extremely inarticulate himself, but has been the gatekeeper of such things as who is or is not articulate enough for quoting or admiring for their contributions to Rock & Roll — a genre of music CREATED by Black people. And since he failed to mention any, lest we forget, people can be both Black and women simultaneously. (TERFs dni)
And just for clarity: Wenner exhibited the racism, sexism and tokenism that has probably held back many talented people throughout his very long career of picking winners and losers, and deciding who gets rewarded and who doesn’t in the music industry.
And one last thing: while I give the audio interviewer partial credit — not full credit — for pressing Wenner on his sexism and racism, I am imploring white people to unambiguously name and call things for what they really and truly are, in the moment.
PLEASE STOP CODDLING RACISTS AND MISOGYNISTS.
Coddling white fragility is not helpful, it’s harmful.
Unambiguously calling out racism is helpful, not harmful.
SN: Obviously the same goes for all the other isms too (Islamophobia, antisemitism, homophobia, transphobia, etc. etc.)
Don’t let members of the oppressor class trick you into thinking that call-out culture (aka, accountability) is a bad thing. It’s not.
Racist gatekeepers need to be embarrassed and called out. On a regular basis. When they’re young, people want to excuse their racism because of their youth. And then when they are old, people excuse their racism because, “Well that’s just the way they grew up,” and before you know it, some racist misogynistic asshole has lived their entire life without anyone ever seriously telling them that they’re racist. AND THEN we wonder why nothing is changing!
Instead of being concerned with hurting the feelings of a racist, maybe try being more concerned with the people who their racism will inevitably harm. Let’s try more of that please.
👉🏿 https://thehub.news/old-white-guy-hates-black-music-that-made-him-rich/
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the-ace-with-spades · 8 months
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Fic idea I'll probably never write:
Actor Bradley + still naval aviator Jake AU
Bradley was a theater kid and he was a really good theatre kid - his last high school won a national award for a musical he had the main male role and a play he's the main character and his theater club teacher encouraged him to send audition tape for acting schools. He does, just to get her off his back and he gets further auditions for Juilliard and Tisch, somehow.
Mav, who is trying very hard to change Bradley's plans to join the Navy by encouraging him to apply to as many colleges as he can, tells him to go, just in case he likes it. He gets a spot in Juilliard around the same time he finds out Mav pulled his papers from USNA. It's supposed to be just something to fill the time until he can join NOCS when he gets his degree, he doesn't actually think he'll be an actor full time, he just wants to be as far away from Mav and Ice as he can.
Things happen fast - he has his first Broadway role before he graduates. Within the next few years, he stars in an extremely popular TV show in one of the main male roles, he's got a side role in a box office breaking movie, and then he gets cast as the main character for a series of action movies (ala MI or FaF). He's one of those actors that does dangerous stunts himself and who is called a madman by most of his co-stars and gets a reputation as the crazy but absolutely the funniest and kindest guy ever who stars in way too many productions every year. Fans know him as the guy who engages in charity work, donates and promotes charities for orphans, veterans and minorities and as the guy that goes to random bars and sings musical numbers on untuned pianos. His main revenue are the popular action movies but he stars in more traditionally demanding roles for the challenge (dramas, tragedies, thrillers) and romantic comedies and musicals for funnsies and in indie movies way under his budget for the sake of artistic creation.
(Mav and Ice watched every single production he had been in, a few unavailable Broadway productions aside. Most of them, they have on DVDs.)
He had a lot of luck because his breaking side role was directed by one guy and that guy loved him and pushed him into many of his movies later and then the same happened with another two directors.
His career hits a tough point when his sexuality comes out (unwillingly). There are rumors and a lot of people who were fans of his action movies come around and talk shit about him and he decides to take a break from acting for a bit.
He's a year into the break when his friendly director calls and says he's got a military action movie for him. A movie about naval aviators, about fighter pilots. To be filmed raw, in real planes, in real flight, with real pilots.
Bradley says no straight away. But then his friend is like, I know you've got a pilot licence already and you fly planes for fun, don't you want to share the fun with the rest of the cast, don't you want to fly a fighter jet?
Bradley has always wanted to fly a fighter jet, that's what hurts most about it all, so he agrees.
He hasn't talked to Mav or Ice for over fifteen years when he finds out that the Dagger Squadron the cast got their assigned pilots from is led by Pete Maverick Mitchell and said Pete Maverick Mitchell is going to be performing the most demanding jet stunts needed for the movie.
Bradley's assigned pilot for the rest of the film is a very reluctant Jake Hangman Seresin.
Hangman doesn't watch movies and definitely not action movies. He's a romantic comedy kinda guy because his life is an action movie with ad breaks for paper work and training. So he doesn't know Bradley and like hell he's going to be flying for some hollier than thou actor - he's going to put him in his place and make him puke as many times as possible the minute he sits in his backseat.
It doesn't work. Bradshaw doesn't puke once. He's almost impressed.
He's definitely impressed when Bradshaw stops by the Hard Deck, looking absolutely not like someone who earns millions every year, wearing an old Hawaiian shirt, an old pair of jeans, sunglasses and a worn out Casio watch, and Nikes that have seen better days and sits down at the piano with Jake's squad and bursts out songs after songs, sounding like a freaking angel. He has to leave when people start asking about autographs from left and right.
Maybe Bradshaw is hot, whatever. He still doesn't think he's a big deal, he's probably a mediocre actor at best, some pretty boy with rich parents that could send him to acting school and who probably grew up with money that could buy him a career.
They have problems working together, obviously, and Bradley is like, fuck that, and tells him the address of a private airport and tells him to show up at four.
Jake thinks he's going to make him fly a small private plane for the sake of bonding but instead Bradshaw packs into the passenger seat of a new piston sport plane and starts it off. Doesn't explain anything, just takes Jake up in the sky, ignores his chatter until they're in the air space where he can do some funny bits and maneuvers.
At some point, the plane tells him Bradshaw is pulling 6 Gs.
In the end, Bradshaw tells him, "I don't care what you think of me, I just want you to fly the goddamn plane like I'd."
And okay, maybe Hangman starts finding him a bit hot.
He googles him. And watches some of his movies. And his rom coms and his musicals and he reads and reads and maybe Bradshaw isn't that bad.
They start to talk between film takes and then he takes Bradshaw to relax to a taco stand where he won't be recognised. Then to an ice cream place, and bowling, and surfing, and then again and again, until finally, Bradley lands at Jake's house.
In Jake's bed.
Everything would be absolutely fine but not even a few days later not only tabloids find out all about Bradshaw's gay navy romance - his sexual orientation being a topic Bradley's been avoiding as much as he could in the past year - but also about all the things he's told Jake during their dates, like about Goose and about his (unnamed) Navy gay parents and about how tough it was for him in college and then how tough it was being in the closet while in the industry.
Obviously, Bradley thinks the worst about Jake and how all that info surfaced.
(this gets somehow resolved but I didn't think that far - they get together and Bradley reconciles with Mav and Ice and they have an awkward meet the parents moment when Hangman finds out)
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