#there's still the other album coming out tomorrow

[dnpsuck]

the new brockhampton album made me really happy

#idc about the anti-bh music trend that's been going on #saturation trilogy music is so unique and fun #didn't pay much attention to anything post iridescence tbh #aside from sugar #but the family has some fun stuff #not all is great but it's a nice farewell #there's still the other album coming out tomorrow #so let's see how that one goes

[a-b-riddle]

Part Three

Warning: If you don't like Taylor Swift, you're not gonna like this chapter that much, homie. But So Long, London is so fitting for this drabble series. (I guess a series since it's longer than a drabble at this point)

Can’t stop thinking about reader just trying to move on

You had to remind yourself several times not to check in with the guys. It had almost become second nature doing something big like this. But going to another country…

Not that they would care. You told yourself. It was for the best that way.

The expo went better than you expected. You didn’t believe that there would be a line out the door of eager readers wanting to read your book, but you got a decent amount. More than a few told you they couldn’t wait to read it. Several asking for photos and asking questions on any future books, a spin-off or even continuing the series.

When one a particular large group of girls your age asked for a group photo, you could have cried. They were had found each other in an online book club. You had given them your book several months ago. All copies signed with a note thanking them for taking the time to read what you had poured your heart into.

You had spent a large chunk of your free time talking to them. Bonding more so as women than over your book.

"Have you listened to Taylor's new album?"

It had only been out for two days and you had been able to avoid it like the plague. You didn't need to even listen to 'So Long, London' to know it would fucking gut you. So you would enjoy your time in the states. Save the listening experience for when you were packing up their stuff.

They had posted and tagged you before continuing on with the rest of the expo. You had reposted the photo to your own social media. Or at least one attached to the pen name you had crafted. You only had twelve thousand instagram followers, but it was something.

The first day was much like the second. You had attended several Q & A sessions with a panel of more experienced authors and managed to go to a few meet and greets. Before you knew it, it was time to pack up shop.

The agent the publishing house had assigned to you had stuck with you for most of the day. You were able to pick her brain a bit about new ideas for possible future plot lines and her thoughts. Overall, the trip was great.

Not only were you able to make great connections and take a lot back home with you to reference, but for a few days you forgot what waited for you back home. Or rather what wasn't waiting for you.

By the time your plane landed back in London you could barely hold yourself up. You left the expo, went straight to the hotel to shower, pack and head to the airport.

Your flight was delayed. Your luggage was taking forever to get onto the belt. It was only seven, but fuck if you weren’t ready to just call it a day. Tomorrow you would have to start again. Opening up the shop. Coming back to an empty flat. Maybe start gathering up the items the boys had left behind.

Should you give them in separate boxes or just one giant one and let them sort it out themselves? It was easy to discern whose sweatshirt and t-shirts belonged to who, but when it got to things like socks and chargers...

Yeah.

They could sort it themselves.

You could drop it off at Kyle's when you knew he would be at the gym. He was good at avoiding you anyway.

It wasn't until you stood in your apartment did it hit you.

You were alone.

For the first time in over a year you couldn't call one of them over to soothe that ache of loneliness.

For the first time in over a year, you had to relearn how to handle just being alone.

You usually showered at night. Washing away the grime of the day before settling into bed. But today was a new chapter. You woke up wanting to start it on a good note. Plus you went straight to bed after getting home so you still had a bit of airport funk on you.

It had been a week. One official since you had sent that text nailing the coffin shut. You had touched base with your friends who didn't bat an eye at you dating four men at once. They liked them, even if Simon scared them. You didn't give them the details of the breakup or the cause. You were pretty private in your problems and if you wanted relationship advice, you would seek an unbiased unopinion.

You had a good group of friends, but the moment you told them that you were well and truly heartbroken, they would insist the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Something you were nowhere near ready for.

So you needed to look like you had your shit together. You put on a dress that was feminine and, most importantly, comfy as fuck. An A-line floral frock paired with a light sweater and some white trainers. You knew a few of your friends would be stopping by for tea so you need to look like you were taking the separation well. Even if you were barely holding it together.

With makeup and perfume on, you started the early morning stroll to your shop.

You loved openings. Starting up the register and selecting the playlist for today. Picking out the essential oil to put in the diffuser even though you mostly stuck with a lavender and vanilla blend during the spring months.

For the morning you stuck with a Taylor Swift Instrumental playlist you had found initially for studying, but you liked the peaceful feeling it brought. Even when it covered the most gut wrenching songs.

You had started to collect the online orders that had accumulated over the last week. Sending out the e-mails alerting to your patrons that their orders were ready for pick up. Luckily you weren't set to receive a delivery until tomorrow.

It was eight and everything was set. Although not many people came to a bookstore at eight in the morning, it really didn't bother you opening up that early considering you were the only employee that was on the payroll. It gave you the possibility of making money, but mostly you spent the morning reading or writing.

You flipped the sign over from CLOSED to OPEN. Ready to start take on the day.

You had turned the kettle on in the back room when your friends had stopped by around lunch. You always said it was just tea, but you always had an array of snacks on standby for you all to munch on.

Meredith was complaining about what a dick the new client at the law firm was being. An absolute slime who had been married to his wife for almost twenty-five years before he decided to fuck his twenty-two year old assistant.

Tabitha didn't want to talk about work. To her, her career in tech was just a paycheck. She did what she needed to do and left when she was done.

You talked about the expo and how your book. Although neither of them really read, they had promised that they would read your book. You didn't hold your breath. They had reposted your posts as well as making ones of their owns in celebration of you. Words of praise about your dedication and hard work.

You realized that even though they couldn't give you the support you needed as readers, they supported you blindly. You could have written absolute garbage, but they would still support you.

You talked about how many people liked your book and wanted pictures and to sign their copies.

Then came the question you had been rehearsing since you had texted them a week ago. They both shared a look before Meredith finally asked.

"How are you holding up?" You gave a half-smile and a shrug. So perfectly rehearsed in your head you were ready to deliver your lies lines.

"I'm fine," you lied. "It was just fading so there isn't much of a difference, I guess." Not necessarily a lie. "We just wanted different things and were on different paths in life." Not a lie. "It's for the best." You weren't sure if that last one was a lie or not just yet.

They both shared a passing look before returning their gazes back to you. "You know you can come to us about this stuff." Tabitha's hand reached across the table, placing a hand on top of yours.

"It wasn't going to work out." You added. "Situations like that don't and I should have known better."

"A situation?" Meredith asked. "When have you ever called it a situation?"

"It always was one."

"I love you enough to call bullshit." She raised her eyebrow at you, crossing her arms over her chest. "You loved them and you need to stop pretending this is easy."

"You're a divorce lawyer, Mere," You reminded. "You see marriages fall apart every day."

"I do. I get to see from across the table how a woman is still willing to take her cheating arse of a husband back. So the fact that you went from on cloud nine with all of them to not even talking about the break up is concerning to say the least."

"Tabitha," you looked at your only ally left. "A little back up would be nice."

"I'm with her on this one." She confirmed. "You loved them. Not that I cared, but if you weren't talking about books or the shop, you were talking about them. What you did, where you went. How they fucked you."

"I think I'll miss that part the most." Mere sighed. "I lived vicariously through you."

"You know you could actually date people." Tabitha suggested.

"I'd rather live with chronic carpal tunnel than a man." You almost choked on your tea. If you were wearing pearls you would have used the comedic relief of clutching them to break the awkwardness of the current topic of conversation.

"That should be put on a t-shirt." You suggested

"I wouldn't mind it on a welcome mat to be honest." Tabitha added.

"But in all seriousness, cut this bullshit." Meredith gave you an sympathetic smile. "We're here. Good, bad and ugly."

You returned her smile. "I know."

You had closed up shop for the evening. Your lunch had gone longer than expected so now you were left doing the dishes and clean up during closing. You were setting the last cup on the drying rack when you heard the front door chime.

Shit.

You must have forgotten to lock the door when you turned the sign.

“I’m sorry!” You apologized, making your way out of the back break area and to the front of the store. “We’re-”

“Closed.” He said, locking the door behind him. “I saw the sign.”

#captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #call of duty #angst #angst with a happy ending #john soap mactavish

[randombush3]

labor omnia vincit

alexia putellas x reader

words: 7538

summary: well, it’s how you meet your wife (posh + becks style)

content warnings: a little bit of drugs and alcohol

notes: HEY HEY HEYY. this is a TRILOGY and here’s the first part. enjoy the build up x

2015. London. 

You groan at the thought of singing another word. The mug set haphazardly on the ledge reserved more for instruments than crockery, half in the air after the last time you returned it to its place, is now empty. There is no hot water left to soothe your burning throat, and there is no patience remaining in your finite store. 

The girls, on the other hand, seem to soldier on. A harmony is incorrect? They sing it again. The producer, a fat old man called Dave whose taste in music might rely on his taste in women, isn’t a fan of a certain beat? They are thinking of ways to change it. 

Ever since your single was released two years ago, this has been your life. Or, at least, the less glamorous side of it. The other side, consisting of sold-out arenas, exclusive clubs, and a world tour that only increased your total domination over the music industry, has been paused while you and the girls slave away on the second album. Apparently, you’re being uncooperative. You would call it boredom. 

“It’s four in the morning, Dave,” Anya states, jabbing out her index finger towards his Rolex, paid for with the revenue from the last single you released. It topped the charts for days. Dave glances down at the clock face with a grunt. “Look, Y/n’s already left us and gone to bed.” 

“Still here,” you murmur, rather unconvincingly, from your spot on the far-too-comfortable sofa behind the mixing desk. Sprawling out even further, you wrap your legs around the third member of your group, Gio. She squeals as you pull her on top of you. “I want to go home, though.” 

“Don’t we all know it,” Gio giggles. She’s had at least six cups of coffee since you arrived at the studio for the second recording session of the day – a solid nine hours ago. That was only after a break for a late lunch or early dinner (whichever your dietician preferred to call it). 

“We need to finish.” 

“I need to sleep,” you reply. Gio scrambles off you in time to avoid the glare you are sent by your producer. “And I’m not sleeping here again. Last time it gave me a crick in my neck and I’m fairly sure the cleaner felt me up.” 

“The sexy cleaner is mine,” Anya declares, jerking you upright. Your stomach lurches with emptiness. “Otherwise, I agree. Let us fuck off home. Please, Dave.” 

He looks at the three of you, bags under your eyes, making long rubbed off (or cried away, in Gio’s earlier over-emotional state). You have changed out of the outfit the paparazzi pictured you in earlier, opting for the stained, grey joggers you folded away in your Birkin. Anya and Gio snuck in so that they weren’t caught in their pyjamas. 

Dave sighs. 

“Tomorrow, don’t go for lunch with any of your silly boyfriends. Come here for noon, and we’ll finish when we finish. We’re getting this album done, and you can’t fire me until it’s out.” 

His sense of humour is appreciated, even if his work ethic is not, and you practically bolt out of the studio, friends in tow. 

Anya grabs your hand as you rush down the corridor, making your way to the exit. “No lunch with your boyfriend,” she repeats Dave’s words, mocking his gristly voice. You roll your eyes, snatching your hand away from your friend before pushing open the back door of the studio, heading towards your new BMW i8. 

You have been friends with Anya Kazi and Giovanna Bartoli since the age of two, meeting them on the first day of nursery, specifically after cutting one of Gio’s ringlets off with safety scissors. Though Anya happily clapped along, she did not defend you, and so you went for her hair as well. Your teacher, hoping to quell the budding animosity, placed all three of you in time-out, where a united front was formed. It hasn’t been broken since that moment, though a few years ago, you were terrified it would be. You, with a well-concealed preference for women, however, have managed to keep your friends. They assured you that they 1) already knew and 2) could not care less. 

“You don’t even like cars,” Gio scoffs at the sight of your latest purchase, your last name printed proudly on the number plate. “Was this an ‘I’m famous’ buy or did your daddy get it for you?” 

“He emailed me a few recommendations,” you answer off-handedly, sliding into the driver’s seat, switching on the ignition. It growls with a mean, menacing precision, the engine’s quality known and heard. “And don’t pretend that your family doesn’t have a Roll-Royce parked in the driveway of their million-pound townhouse.” 

“You are just as much from Hampstead as I am, girl.” 

You roll your eyes, stifling a yawn. Anya pulls out in front of you, no doubt speeding off to avoid the boy-racers you and Gio become at this time of night. 

Your flat has progressed from that of the one you shared with the girls in Princess Park two years ago. It’s nicely decorated, you like to think, with most of the work being done to it while you were touring. 

The walls are hung with artwork; some your own, some not. The canvases and frames adorn every room, dictating the vibe, declaring your individuality to any visitors who choose to admire the paintings and sketches. Then, if they were to look at the shelves dotted around the space, they’d see books with matching themes to the art. Your living room has a print of Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’, blown up in a gilded frame, hanging above your green leather sofa, adding colour to the white walls, and then a bookshelf filled with navy-bound novels about whatever you fancy. You’re quite chuffed with the design, though it was really the interior designer you hired who came up with the idea. 

Without a second glance to any of the intricate details of your home, you stumble your way to the bathroom, going through the motions until it is time to get into bed. It’s a big bed – one that often feels too big for just one person – but the mattress is inviting and you dive into a deep sleep head-first, knowing you will not be getting up until someone calls you tomorrow morning. 

…

Barcelona, seven hours earlier. 

The bar is busy, as most are in Barcelona at this time of night, and the girls are out for dinner and a post-training drink. The wine glasses have deceived them all, though, because they have been emptied and refilled a few more times than Xavi would be impressed with. 

A young, budding star does not drink during the season, the alcohol drought both self-inflicted and encouraged by every coach who promises to take her far. Her eyeliner must be smudged by now, but Alexia can’t leave yet because Jenni has promised that she can stay over at her place and she needs her to take her back. 

The reason for her temporary relocation is that Alexia is fed-up with her mother’s pestering, seeing as it is only one week into the season and she is already being called a workaholic. She can’t stay in that house tonight, especially when her little sister is the complete opposite: sleeping with anyone who gives her a chance and never doing anything that will help her future. Eli Segura is baffled by the lack of balance in her life – two daughters, two extremes – but she is the most concerned with her eldest, angering Alexia to no end. 

Alexia is also fed-up with this conversation. It’s all the girls seem to be talking about these days, utterly consumed with this new English girl group just like the rest of the world. 2sday has completely taken over all interesting topics of discussion, and Alexia doesn’t think she can handle being asked which one of their songs she likes the most one more time. 

She likes them, she guesses, but so does everyone. Todo el mundo is in love with all three members. 

The girls are discussing who their favourite is. 

“She’s Italian though, and that’s cool of her,” Jenni argues, putting forward her case for Bartoli as if she chose to have parents from a certain country. Alexia hums in thought, thinking of the pictures she saw from the world tour – how long her legs are, tanned and sculpted and shown off nicely by the mini-skirt she wore. “Did you know that her little sister is a model? She’s called Cristina or something. The beauty is practically in her DNA.” 

“Aren’t all three of them models?” asks Marta pointedly, finger tapping the photoshoot on the magazine cover.

“Well, all three of them are sexy,” Jenni replies, remembering just how enamoured the world is with the three break-out stars. “Ale, which one is your favourite?” The magazine that had sparked this conversation is slid towards the twenty-one-year-old, and she looks at the picture on the front page: you, Gio, and Anya, all dressed in oversized suits with nothing underneath, hair slicked back and eyes piercing, ‘girl power’ brandished over the bottom of the photograph. 

“Y/n L/n,” Alexia answers easily, fascinated by the sculpture of your face. She thinks you are beautiful, in a less crass way than her teammates. “And you lot sound like men with the way you talk about them.” 

“Ooh, Alexia is getting all high-and-mighty,” Jenni teases. “Looks like it’s time to take the baby home.” 

“She’s cranky because she’s tired and it’s past her bedtime,” adds another teammate, though Alexia is too wound up to really care who. 

They all make little pouty faces at her as she finishes the last of her glass of water, the clear liquid standing out against the deep red of most of the table. Jenni rolls up the magazine and swats her shoulder with it, before handing it over to its owner and finally allowing Alexia her rest. 

In silence, they sit in her car – an old Ford in need of replacing but not on the footballer’s list of things she will buy with the money they are now getting. FC Barcelona Femení has become, at last, a fully professional team, and Alexia looks ahead to the future with a hopeful dream and the knowledge that she will need to work hard if she ever wishes to become the best. Jenni has become a good friend ever since she joined the club last year, and she brings a global ambition to the friendship that she knows Alexia does not have. Jenni is from Madrid, and plays for Barcelona because she can, not because it is her club. Her team is the same as her grandfather’s, and she often expresses to Alexia her wish to play for them someday, as well as scoring in every league she possibly can. Young Alexia Putellas has never once considered stepping foot outside of Spain. 

Not only that, but her father died three years ago and here, in Barcelona, is where she feels closest to him. She cannot fathom a life past the plazas and the cobbled streets of her home. And she’s glad. She’s safe here, and she needs nothing more than her team, her family, and a football at her feet.  What more could she possibly want? 

As she settles on Jenni’s sofa, blanket pulled over her body, head resting on a plump cushion that smells faintly of Jenni’s dog, Alexia decides to watch whatever is on TV right now. Jenni, in an attempt to learn English, has found an English news channel that seemingly reports on ‘exclusive’ celebrity news. There you are, plastered on the screen, your picture zoomed in to the point of the pixels blurring.

The woman speaking has a high-pitched and critical voice, saying words that Alexia does not hear. She stares at your picture, considering the life you have, imagining that, one day, footballers like her have the stardom of Beckham and Messi and Ibrahimovic. Though she herself does not crave that exposure, well aware of her shyness, she thinks about the future with a wistful sigh, lost in her dream as the English woman narrates what she can see, judging how you have opened your mouth to take a bite of the food, listing the brands you are wearing. 

And, in her weird, exhausted haze, she sees your face. It’s probably only because you’re on the screen and she’s staring at it, but you are there as she pictures the growth of women’s football. You’re there in the stands as she plays in front of a sold-out Camp Nou, cheering and singing along to Catalan chants she knows you’d never actually know in real life. Slowly, she falls asleep, and, just before she closes her eyes, you are there: back to her, dressed in a familiar shirt. Alexia. 11. Somewhere in a far-off fantasy land, Alexia Putellas marries you that night. 

…

It’s Sunday. 

You drive to your parents’ house in Hampstead, only twenty minutes away from the flat you now live in, to reluctantly attend their weekly Sunday Roast. Before, it was a condition of remaining on the booking list for the annual family holiday, seeing as you had declared university was going to wait until after your gap year and then had become a popstar instead. Now that both you and your brother can afford to come anyway, the tradition is there for sentimental value. A world tour made you realise how much you love them all, even your annoying older brother. 

Your parents are lawyers who met at university and found love in a city that they never moved out of, both of them doing extremely well for themselves. They raised you and your brother to ski, horse-ride, and attend prep schools and public schools, although boarding school was not quite desirable. Your dad speaks in a booming voice, received pronunciation an act used for court, slight Mancunian accent lilting his words whenever he relaxes. 

“Darling!” your mum exclaims, surprised at your attendance just like she is every week. “Come on in, come on in. Daddy has the footie on, and your brother is on his way. Don’t you have songs to sing? How come you’re here?” 

Ushered inside your own home, you smell the brief scent of your family before adjusting to it all and fitting right back into the chaos. There’s beef in the oven, and the roar of the crowd playing faintly from the kitchen where your dad must be preparing the potatoes. He’s proud of his potatoes. 

You slip off your shoes – a new pair of Uggs – and follow your mother to the kitchen. Dad is there, doing exactly what you’d expected, hands working instinctively as his eyes focus on the TV, mouthing along with the commentary as Manchester United take on their opponent. “Sit down,” Dad says as soon as you walk in, pointing at the stools tucked into the island. “We’re not doing too badly, and today should be an easy win.” 

“I know. I do watch the football without you, Daddy.” 

He tuts. “Yeah, but you don’t get the same level of commentary on your own. Plus, United isn’t even what I wanted to talk to you about. I have thought of a publicity move that you should definitely make – it would really help you guys out.” You entertain his suggestion, knowing that’s what dads do, sitting back on the stool with a smirk on your face, already thinking of an interesting way to tell him he is being stupid. “So, what I was thinking was that you guys do a half-time show! You love football, and the girls love footballers – what isn’t to like? Plus, I bet any club would jump at the chance to make some money from extra tickets sold just to see you.” 

“And you haven’t already contacted our manager?” you check, finding your father to be quite unpredictable and rash. His ego is also far too inflated by clients who don’t see him for the kind but bumbling fool he truly is, and so he often takes it upon himself to put forward any ideas he has to your management team, much to everyone’s inconvenience (the last thing they need, amongst sorting out photos of you snogging girls and your friends in various compromising positions, is an old man telling them what he thinks will boost your image). “It’s a good idea, I must admit. I’ll bring it up.” 

“Good stuff.” There’s a clang of metal as the potatoes go in the oven too, and the fridge opens with a pop as your dad begins to fish out the carrots and parsnips to complete your meal, Your mother is responsible for everything else. “Try to get it at Barcelona or Real Madrid,” he says off-handedly. “Imagine singing in the Nou Camp. That’d be crazy.” 

“Not the appearance I dreamt of when I was little, but I’d still get to touch the grass,” you agree. 

“Y/n, we knew you’d never be a footballer. You haven’t got the coordination for that.” They tried to support you, they really did, but then music lessons took over and the sport became a form of entertainment, not exercise. “Women’s football is really something, though. In twenty years, it’ll be good. Maybe you should invest.” 

“I know zero women’s footballers, apart from – what’s her name? Kelly Smith. The English one?” 

“The Arsenal player, yeah. It’s a shame we don’t have a proper women’s team.” 

“Should I fund one?” you joke, but his face lights up and he has taken you seriously. “Okay, I know we’ve been successful thus far, but we haven’t raked in that much. Who knows! It could all go to shit and I could end up right where I started, in my childhood bedroom with no degree and no choice but to mooch off my parents.” 

“I get the sense that you’re slightly stressed about this album,” Dad says slowly, smiling wide, proud to have worked you out. He has always been good at that; knowing what you are feeling. It is a wonderful trait for him to have, seeing as your mother struggles with emotional connection of any kind. She is too much of a corporate big-shot for that, anyway. 

“It’s killing me.” You sigh, slumping on the stool. “It’ll be released and then we’ll hop on tour and I’m so tired. Anya has a crush and Gio’s dating someone and now all of our songs are about love and I just… I don’t know about that. I don’t know if I will ever know about that.” 

And, though he hesitates, Dad walks around the island and places a hand on your shoulder, telling you that you will find the right man someday. 

Deep down, he knows that the daughter who loved to watch football and never once commented on their hairstyles or pretty faces – the girl whose crushes on members of boy bands always seemed half-hearted and forced – is not a daughter who is going to bring home a man one day, with a smile on her face and a ring on her finger. He knows. It is quite possible that he has always known. Whether he is going to bring it up before you feel comfortable to talk about it is a different matter, especially since your mother has dreams of her daughter’s husband that she has whispered to him ever since they found out their second child was a girl. 

Sunday is pretty routine, which you are grateful for. Your brother, also a lawyer, discusses his latest case, resembling the stories your father used to tell at the dining table: stories you’d both yawn at when you were younger. You dish out a few industry secrets, recounting your most recent trip to Cirque Le Soir. With disdain, your mother berates you for any possible drug-usage, scolding you for something you have not admitted to but somehow knowing that you are guilty of it anyway. It feels much like the family dinners of your teenage years, but you suppose that pop stars never really have to grow up and decide that it isn’t all bad. After all, you drive home in a very stylish car.

Then, the week starts with another gruelling, waste-of-time day at the studio, where you go inside before the sun comes up and emerge long after it has set. Dave is decently pleased with the vocals so far. There are another seven tracks to go, but most of those are being written by other people. Mark Ronson, you’ve heard, is open to working with your group. It’s all very exciting, even if you feel like you have run a marathon by the end of the day. 

On Tuesday, you remember to tell your manager and publicist (she’s a woman of many talents) about your father’s idea. At first, her reluctance is extremely evident, but it later dissipates once she thinks about it, having promised you and the now-excited girls to see what she can do. 

You are on a private plane to Barcelona before you can realise what is happening. 

Bags packed with more make-up and spangled underwear than proper clothes, and sunglasses shielding your hungover eyes courtesy of last night’s consoling of a newly-single Giovanna Bartoli, you try your best not to vomit while in the air and even squeeze in a spot of light reading. The girls laugh (wincing at the sound) when they see you revisiting the Aeneid. You like Virgil, though, so you don’t mind. 

“How many days are we here again?” Anya asks, equally hungover. 

“Three,” replies your manager, not bothering to look up from her laptop. “Today, tomorrow, and the day after. Please check if the players are married before you do anything with them.” 

“I’ve sworn off men,” mumbles Gio miserably. She stretches her legs out with a sniffle, and then draws them back in to protect her broken heart. “If I’d get off with any woman, I’d like her to be Spanish.” She clears her throat, the lump of tears disappearing as she retrieves her GCSE-level Español, giving it a shot. If not to be serious than to at least piss you off. “Hola. ¿Cómo estás? ¿Quieres dormir conmigo?”

“What? And then you’re going to shove your tongue down her throat?” Gio looks at you with a smirk. “That is not how you kiss a woman.” 

“Hey, you can’t keep them all to yourself!” 

You laugh, though your manager’s attention has been caught and she is already showing her disapproval. “It would be better that I did if that’s how you think it works.” 

“None of you are kissing women.” 

“That’s not fair,” Anya protests, upset that she didn’t even get to join in the conversation before it got shut down as swiftly as a rowdy houseparty in an American teen-movie. 

“I agree. That’s not fair on Y/n, who actually needs to kiss a woman so her knickers aren’t in a twist all the time.” 

“I’ll twist your knickers in a minute,” you threaten, fist raised to Gio in good humour.

“See what I mean? She needs to let off some steam.” 

“Well, do it discreetly if you must. Do your shows, go out with the players, and bring whoever into your bed as long as they have tight lips and no vendetta against you. Gio, we’re going to have to say something about him ch–”

You gulp, not wanting your friend to cry again. “Wow, the view is really nice,” you interrupt, catching Anya’s appreciative nod in the corner of your eye as you splay your palm on the glass of the aircraft’s window, marvelling at Barcelona’s plazas and cobbled streets. Imagine this being your home, you think to yourself. 

…

Jenni is squawking when Alexia makes her way into the circle of players during their drinks break. Alexia knows her friend is excited to go to the men’s game later on today, but she hadn’t realised it is to this extent until she gets grabbed by the forward and shaken as though she is a snowglobe. 

“I got the golden ticket,” Jenni shouts in her ear, making their teammates around them laugh. “Me, you, and Mario are going to the match tonight!” 

“I already knew that?” They don’t really get free tickets, but they can be heavily discounted. Tonight isn’t a super big deal, though Alexia may stand corrected. “Was I not supposed to know that?” 

“Of course she doesn’t know,” Mariona says, squirting some of her water at the midfielder. She recoils from the droplets, but they land on her training top anyway, and Alexia is already pissed off with the entire world. “Alexia, do you seriously live under a football-shaped rock?” 

Alexia takes a moment to brush off the teasing, picturing the bursting trophy cabinet that is almost within her grasp. “Yes, and it is very homely.” 

“Madre mía, you are one of a kind,” Jenni says with a sigh, movements less aggressive as she drapes an arm around Alexia’s shoulders. “Guess who’s singing at half-time tonight. You’re going to drool so much that the people below us will think it’s raining.” 

At this, Alexia knows exactly who Jenni is talking about, and she blushes though it could easily be mistaken for redness from exercising. 

“I just think she’s pretty,” comes Alexia’s slightly defensive reply. They walk to the middle of the training pitch, rejoining the team as Xavi explains a confusing drill. Neither really listen. 

“Is this your first celebrity crush?” Mariona jibes, overhearing the conversation and finding it necessary to join in. Any excuse to poke fun at the baby of the team. 

Jenni ruffles Alexia’s hair, ruining her neat ponytail. “Alexia’s in love with a straight girl,” she sings. 

It’s then that the whole team chooses to get involved, ears perking up at the mention of Alexia’s lovelife – a more or less forbidden topic. Their captain, Marta Unzué, even chimes in with a ‘we’ve all been there’. Like a stroppy teenager, Alexia folds her arms over her chest and turns to focus entirely on football, something that she knows she loves and loves her back. They leave her alone for the rest of the training session. 

She even manages to forget about what comes after the first forty-five minutes of the match, sitting comfortably in a stadium that is her version of heaven. 

You, on the other hand, cannot distance yourself from the nerves of performing in no less than ten minutes. 

The players were nice when you accompanied Anya to speak to them, and they spent a good while fumbling their way through English to invite you all to join them tonight at Pacha. You took photos with Messi and Neymar to show your father. 

The outfit, if you can call it that, is tight and could possibly show your entire bum to eight-five thousand Culers tonight if you’re not careful. Silver eyeshadow glistens in the mirror when you peer at your reflection, inspecting the bejewelled bralette and tiny shorts you are wearing. 

Anya and Gio, who both look dazzling in their own silver combinations, tell you that it is time to get your microphones sorted. When you stand in the tunnel, ready to go out, you see that they have laid out a sheet on top of the grass so your heels don’t ruin it. Part of you wishes that you were in a football strip and boots. The music starts before you can get too reminiscent. 

You sing with the same adrenaline you always get, and the crowd becomes a blur in your mind as you lose yourself to the melody. The bass hits your heart just like the lyrics do – especially since this song was written by Anya about her last boyfriend – and you hold back tears as the choreography leads your limbs in an energetic dance that must be entertaining to watch. 

When it finishes, and your chest is rising and falling quickly as you try to catch your breath, Alexia thinks you almost catch her gaping at you. Your eyes seem to be scanning the stands. Maybe you see her. 

Maybe that is why you, in your big, black hoodie and paparazzi-proof baseball cap are sitting in the stands of Estadi Johan Cruyff the very next day. 

Alexia does not point you out to her teammates. You make it clear to all who recognise you that you are trying to be incognito, and either the fans at the stadium have no knowledge of popular culture, or they are granting you your privacy.

She is now the entertainer, shining under the spotlight of the bright sun, a ball at her feet like that is where all balls were made to be. And you watch carefully – she can feel it – but you do not stay long enough for her to even think about approaching you. 

…

2016. Somewhere in the sky between LA and New York. 

This time round, the tour has confirmed your hatred for all plane journeys, hotels, and sold-out concerts. 

You’re dead on the inside, numb to the glitter and sparkles of your life, and your eyes are always halfway to being sealed shut in the deepest slumber humanly possible. 

There are a few things that ease the disdain you have for your career, but none of those compare to the channel you have found that streams Barcelona Femení’s football matches. Your excuse, made to no one other than yourself, is that Manchester United has no women’s team. Of course you’d watch them instead, if you could. 

“This is peak lesbianism,” Gio comments, her fifth time saying the exact same thing, prodding a napping Anya to alert her to your boredom-killer on the flight. You’re glad these planes have wi-fi. “We’re in America, which has all the women’s football in the world, and you still choose to watch your crappy little stream on your cracked iPad.” 

“If you hadn’t decided to jump out at me, the screen would be just fine,” you grumble, transfixed on the way Alexia Putellas dribbles with the ball, turning and passing to Jennifer Hermoso who slots the ball right into the bottom-right corner of the net. The pitch looks damaged, and you really have researched how you can help out the sport, but it is hard to dispute anything the girls say about your crush on an unknown squad member when everyone knows you could get your football fix from the Premier League. 

You’re yet to tell anyone that you have just bought this season’s Barcelona shirt. You’re not sure if you’d be invited on the family ski trip if your father were to find out. 

“Sorry, sorry,” replies Gio, hands raised in the air, a gesture of surrender. In hindsight, your response was clipped. “Didn’t mean to distract you from such an important task. When will you tell us who it is that you fancy? We’ve been waiting for you to come to us, but, fuck me, you’ve got tight lips.” 

“And, before you say it – we’re not nosy. We just care. And we find it cute.” 

“And…” 

“What?” you practically grunt, biting your tongue as a hefty challenge sends Alexia Putellas face-first onto the patchy grass. It makes your heart jump. 

“Well, it’s not like she won’t want you, so make your move.” 

“Just like you made your move on Justin Bieber?” She winces. “We did warn you, babe.” 

“It’s alright,” Anya comforts with a small smile, though you are well aware of how funny she also found the situation. Being in LA, as a celebrity, is always an interesting experience. In Gio’s defence, she did not know about a certain model standing right behind her, and you are fairly sure she had run off to do lines with someone or other earlier. “But, yeah, seriously. Y/n, do you want us to guess?” 

“Go on. Guess.” You smirk, because they’ll never–

Anya’s hand flaps as she puts her privately-educated memory to good use. “What’s-her-face?” she squeals, hand slapping down on her thigh as the name eludes her, the flapping resuming once she remembers. “Alexia Putellas!” 

You rip your eyes from your cracked screen, widened in horror. “How did you know?” you ask, voice a whisper as you swallow your shock. 

“You talk about her all the time. ‘Ooh, she’s the future’ this, ‘watch her grow’ that. Just talk to her. She’ll fancy you back.” 

“She’s not a celebrity. Normal people don’t slide into people’s DMs like we do, and I have no clue whether or not she can speak English,” you reason, having said the same thing to yourself every time your finger hovers on that feature of Instagram. “And I don’t like her? You saw me kissing–”

“God, drop it. You know she kisses anyone with a mouth, and you also know that you’re lying your arse off. Whoever this footballer is, just talk to her. If anything, it’ll be good for you to spend time with someone who isn’t going to drag you right into their own closet.” 

“Closets in LA can be very big,” you say with a sigh, having already received a lecture about the damage-control your publicist always seems to be doing. You don’t really think it’s ‘damage’ if a photo of you enjoying yourself with someone, but your publicity team deems any picture of you with a woman one to be locked away in some encrypted file and never released in the papers. 

…

You: Hola! Congratulations on the win. :)

You cringe so hard, but you send it anyway, your friends leaning over either shoulder as they egg you on, wishing your closet gobbled you whole and spat you out somewhere further away than Narnia.

Alexia, in Barcelona, groans at the sound of her phone buzzing, wondering who on Earth is texting her this late. 

And she drops the device on her face when she sees what the notification is. 

Because it really does not make sense, and she is not used to the idea that women’s footballers could one day fraternise with celebrities like you without feeling out of place. (And she’s had a crush on you for about two years and you’re texting her at midnight to congratulate her.)

You, on the other hand, are gripping onto your phone with trembling hands, holding on for dear life. Anya, who claims her C in A-level Spanish was unjust and incorrect, is brainstorming your next message, adamant that you’ll seem cooler if you display some knowledge of her mother tongue. You don’t tell her that, of course, Alexia’s first language would have been Catalan, because you don’t want it to be obvious that you have done a little bit (a lot) of research. 

Gio tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear for you – a comforting gesture. “Hey,” she says kindly, “what’s the worst that could happen?” 

She tries. 

She fails. 

You have compiled a list within a millisecond. “I don’t know,” you start, but, oh, you do. “She could screenshot the conversation and leak it to Twitter? Or she’s not a lesbian and she is disgusted that I am? She could have a girlfriend? She could think my account’s been hacked and report me and everything’ll be deleted? Or all of the above?!” 

The chat is still open on your phone, but you can’t see past your tidal wave of anxiety. 

“I think you’re just nervous.” Understatement of the century. 

Before you can make a snide remark saying exactly that but to Anya’s face, your message is no longer the only one present. 

“She replied!” you shout, volume a concoction of fear and excitement and a thousand emotions in between. 

Alexia: Gracias por ver :)

“Thanks for watching,” Anya translates. 

You exhale. “Okay. Done. No more.” You ignore both of their facepalms with the sort of blissful ignorance you’re sure only delusional people possess, but it is better to have a healthy heart rate than to understand the lyrics to whatever ballad the two of them have in the works. 

…

“Kiss her.” 

“What?” 

“Just kidding,” Jenni giggles, winking at Alexia and stealing her glass of something-not-too-strong. 

The team has been invited to a party with the men’s team, all because their favourite girl group is back in town and are treating the club like a pit-stop on their way to Madrid for the European-leg of their tour. The album has been in the top ten worldwide ever since it was released.

Alexia looks good tonight, as said by Jenni who thought her wardrobe consisted solely of football strips and Barcelona merchandise, and she revels in her little secret. Your little secret. She hasn’t told anyone that you messaged her two months ago, even if the conversation ended with her response. 

Which is why Jenni is set on teasing Alexia about her non-existent chance with you, especially when you have spent your entire night on the other side of the reception room, deep in conversation with Neymar Jr., who is not shameful about his appreciation for the plunging neckline of your tight dress. He has a girlfriend, but Alexia has seen enough tabloid headlines to know that most famous people don’t care. 

Your glass is always full, though that is your own doing. Something about the way a pair of hazel eyes have been watching you from the minute you walked in makes the air around you feel heavier than it should, and alcohol helps to dull your fluster. 

Anya and Gio have circled back a few times, adding to their persuasion each lap. When you see Gio heading your way, a small smile playing on her lips as someone or other trails behind, you excuse yourself from your conversation with your personal hero (who, sadly, would be able to describe your boobs but not your face if he were asked) and clasp your fingers around her forearm, pulling the two of you even further from a certain women’s footballer on the other side of the room.

“She’s staring,” says Gio in a low voice, leaning in to speak into your ear. “She’s staring at you like she wants to eat you.” 

“I’d let her,” you reply, lips loosened from the champagne you’ve been drinking. “She is beautiful.” 

“She is still staring.” 

You decide to be bold. You stare back, and Alexia is trapped, frozen to the spot. “She is so beautiful.” 

“Now you’re both staring.” 

“I’m going to talk to her.” 

“You should,” she encourages, slurring. The blur might come from your distraction, your drunkenness, or her own intoxication. You don’t care. 

Absently, you nod. “Yeah.” 

She presses her fingertips between your shoulder blades, cold hands making you shiver. “Go. You got this.” 

“Yeah.” 

She pushes you away from her, in Alexia’s direction. Your feet carry you on what feels like an inevitable path. 

And you… walk right past her, out of the door, and into the warm air of the evening to have a smoke instead. 

Behind you, Gio lets out a silent scream, turning right around and giving up on your happiness because what more can she do? And Alexia, who is confused about what just happened and bored of this event anyway, is glad to be given an excuse to leave. 

Except, you are blocking her exit, cigarette pressed to your lips as you inhale the smoke like it is a lifeline. She frowns, lips a tight line of disappointment, really. “¿Tú fumas?” she asks, though she knows both the answer and of your incompetence when it comes to her language. 

You let your eyes meet hers, and Alexia shivers, though she tells herself it is only because it’s November. “Hola,” you reply. 

For some reason, Alexia is drawn in. She steps closer to you, and you don’t have anywhere to go, backed against the wall you are leaning on. You’re drunk, and the cigarette has burned down to a stub of orange and black. She’s also drunk – less so than you – and she has nothing to lose right now. She is no one, in her mind, and you are far from prudish. 

She decides, once she is barely ten centimetres away from you, that your dress is provocative, but it only adds to your existing beauty. You push your chest out, standing up straighter. 

The dance is very still, and very silent, but you can imagine what it feels like to kiss her and you know that she is thinking the same thing. 

“You can, if you want to,” you whisper, hoping she understands. 

Luckily, she does. 

Alexia fumbles her way through the first tentative second, shocked that this is what she is doing, but she finds her footing and relaxes into the taste of champagne and cigarette smoke, the heat of your body sparking a fire within her. You pull her closer, pressing her body into yours, and you are now consumed by desperation. The kiss grows messier, and Alexia’s hands begin to roam, mind lost in a haze of desire. She is explorative but she is gentle, and you gasp into her mouth as her tongue pushes past your lips and a hand settles on the curve of your bum, the other cupping your jaw. 

Briefly, she wonders how many girls you have done this with. You seem experienced. The thought, while a little disturbing, sort of spurs her on, feeding into her competitive nature. This will be unforgettable for her regardless of the outcome because it’s an interesting story to tell, but what about you? Are you even aware of what you’re doing? Are you straight? No, you can’t be. You messaged her, so you started this. She is only… finishing it? 

You sense her distraction, pulling back with a blink and a deep intake of fresh air. She tries to move back, afraid of what comes next, but you don’t let her go, clutching onto the hardened muscles of her arms to hold her in place, ready to kiss her again.

The moment is spoilt by a voice – an English voice – and the theft of your attention. Your eyes, previously hooded and dark, widen as they flit towards the door behind her, terribly upset that your friends have developed the worst timing known to man. Gio shouts again, telling you that it’s time to go. You have to get to Madrid, and the pilot would be incredibly annoyed to hear that the flight was delayed because you were too caught up in snogging a girl you may or may not fancy. 

“We really need to go!” Anya repeats, growing impatient with you as you debate giving up your entire music career. “Like, it is insane how badly you need to get your arse over here to say your goodbyes and then jump in the taxi to the airport with us.” 

“Can it just–”

“No!” they both shout in unison. 

You sigh, looking at Alexia, the proximity prodding at a feeling low in your stomach. She doesn’t squirm under the intensity of your gaze, instead sporting a lazy, blissfully ignorant grin. And you’re about to break her little heart. 

“I have to go,” you say softly, forehead resting on her shoulder as you mumble your words out. You have a duty to your job, or, as Virgil puts it: labor omnia vincit. Work conquers all.

“You have to…?” she tries. 

“Go.” 

“Tiene que irse,” Anya translates, reminding you of her presence (and her much better comprehension of Spanish). “Ahora.” 

“Ah.” Alexia’s hand cups the back of your neck as you raise your head, and she kisses you, though the kiss is short. 

You pat your body down with a sudden haste, wandering past your alcohol-clouded thoughts to remember the location of your ticket, reaching down to grab your clutch from where you’d dropped it on the floor while having a smoke. It pops open as Alexia watches your movements, and you retrieve a pen and a scrunched up ticket (you have no idea why that’s in there, but you are grateful that it is). 

“Here.” You hand her the ticket, pressing it into the palm of her hand and then sealing your goodbye with a quick peck to her lips. 

Then, you are gone, running off at an impressive speed in those heels, chasing your friends into the building. 

She pauses herself in time for a moment, drawing back her grasp on reality as her thoughts still and she breathes in your lingering perfume. And then she blinks – blinks her way back into midnight in Barcelona. 

She opens her palm to see what your gift was, unfolding the piece of paper with an overwhelming curiosity that almost rips it at the edges. 

A boarding pass from London Stansted to Barcelona-El Prat Airport, decorated in fresh, black ink.

Scrawled on top of the flight details is something much more valuable than the entrance into First Class the paper allows. 

Eleven digits. 

Twenty-two-year-old Alexia Putellas, the catalyst for change in women’s football as the world knows it, suddenly sees her future set right out in front of her. Because there you are.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso #woso fanfics #barca femeni #fc barcelona

[lovings4turn]

☆ these are the days . . . (j.m.)

— a couple of days in the life with your boyfriend

+ title taken from 'these are the days' by inhaler.

+ just fluff. dividers from cafekitsune! and always, likes and reblogs are much appreciated

it's another friday night. though in any other city such an occasion calls for a big, crazy night out, stars hollow is not really that kind of town.

jess hangs his head from the edge of your bed, surveying the cds you're leafing through from his upside down position as you sit on the floor next to him. your cd collection in no way rivals that of lane - in fact, you don't think anyone's could - but you still pride yourself on just how extensive it is.

"that one," he hums, straining a little to nod his head in an appreciative gesture towards the 'elastica' album that currently sits in your hands.

wordlessly, you hold it out to him and admire the way his deep brown eyes narrow as he attempts to bring the upside-down cover into focus. anyone else would be surprised at the gentle way in which jess plucks it from your fingers, but jess is nothing but soft in all matters pertaining to you.

in all honesty, the thought that seemingly everyone in stars hollow apart from you see jess as some cold, harsh ‘teenage dirtbag’ is, quite frankly, hilarious. so much so, that you can't stop a small laugh from escaping your lips, a sound that jess instantly picks up on.

he turns away from the cd to look at you once more, treacle brown eyes obscured by the way he squints and furrows his brow in a silent question.

"something funny?" he questions, though there's fondness laced in every word.

"nothing, nothing," you placate, but jess knows you far too well for this schtick.

"yeah, right." his tone is sarcastic, but the crooked smile he shoots you reveals he's more amused than anything. “cracks in your floorboard tell you a joke or something?”

you knock his shoulder with your own, a gentle reprimand that you don’t even mean.

“just thinking,” you admit. “like, ‘s funny that everyone sees you as some sort of devil incarnate, yet here you are, staying in on a friday night to ransack my cd collection.”

“it’s not ransacking if you enabled it,” jess refutes, raising a thick eyebrow teasingly. “but if we’re talking theft, i believe you still have at least three of my books laying around here.”

an indignant laugh escapes your lips as you sit up straighter, but before you can protest, jess is pointing to various corners of your room.

“i spotted franny and zooey when i came in, y’have high fidelity resting on your desk, and i swear please kill me is still sitting in your bag.”

“touché,” you concede, knowing that jess was absolutely correct in his accusations. “i’ll make it up to you.”

jess perks up at this, turning to face you better. he’s still upside down, and you’re surprised he isn’t dizzy from all of the blood rushing to his head in this position, but you aren’t complaining.

you’ve studied jess countless times when he’s standing the right way up; here was an opportunity to admire him in a totally different perspective.

“yeah?” he asks.

his grin tugs the corner of his mouth up into a smile, as though it’s attached to a string with you, the puppeteer of his joy.

a hand comes to trace your cheek. it’s warm, loving. all you can do is nod before your lips meet his own. it’s a tad awkward, jess still hanging from your bed, but he manoeuvres his neck to ensure your kisses become seamless.

as your tongue slips between his parted lips, jess decides that the discomfort his neck will feel tomorrow will be more than worth it.

saturdays are reserved for the infamous diner rushes.

without you there, you’re sure that luke and jess would have killed each other ten times over today alone.

your vantage point at the register allows for you to remind jess to refill people’s coffees or take a table’s order. instead of stalling, like he does when it’s just him and luke, he goes without hesitation, wanting to be back to you as quick as possible.

luke learned not to comment on it. the first time he’d bore witness to jess refilling kirk’s coffee the moment you’d asked him to, he’d made some witty remark about jess being wrapped around your finger.

jess had stubbornly refused to refill any more coffee cups that day in protest.

currently, he’s standing at the counter with you, watching you doodle onto his order note-pad. though luke keeps shoving plates into his hands and sending him to different tables, jess is keen to see how your drawing progresses each time he returns.

he’s glad he has a decent enough memory to remember the orders he takes; he would rather scribble them onto his own hand than ask you to hand his notepad back.

it’s after he gives taylor doose his omelet that he returns to his notepad in the centre of the counter, turned around so he can see it properly.

artistically speaking, it’s no masterpiece. but to jess, it’s priceless.

there, immortalised in black ink, is a glorified stickman portrait of the two of you. jess is in what he thinks is supposed to be a metallica t-shirt, and one of your eyes is a little bigger than the other, but jess doesn’t care. all he notices is that stickman you has stickman jess’ hand clasped tightly.

the moment his shift is over, jess pins it to his wall.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags ; @faerieroyal

#.° ༘🗝️⋆₊ becca’s drabbles #jess mariano #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano x you #jess mariano fic #jess mariano fluff #gilmore girls #gilmore girls x reader #gilmore girls x you

[monzabee]

baby honey – al12

masterlist

Summary: The one where Arthur swears he’s not thinking about you, his best friend, all the time – just today, yesterday, and tomorrow night.

Pairing: arthur leclerc x reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: angst, unreciprocated feelings (that turn into reciprocated feelings), hurt, comfort, alcohol consumption, being drunk, idiots to lovers, denial is a river in egypt, charles and his big brain, miscommunication, mentions of drunk driving (don’t drink and drive!), jealousy jealousy, cying, google translate French!

Request: “after reading ur newest cl16 fic i want one where reader always liked charles but he gets a gf and she ends up with arthur (who’s her bff?? bffs to lovers 🤔) just a lot of hurt comfort” + “Hi! Can I please request ballerina!reader with either Charles or Arthur, you can choose to write it or do it as a smau, thank you!” + “can you please write something with Arthur + size/height difference?”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! it is time for the debut of arthur my beloved on this blog. i LOVED all of the requests for this one! i was originally going to name this fic after another taylor song (wink, wink), but then i was listening to baby honey by harry styles and something just clicked, so i hope you guys also agree with me. if anyone is wondering, this is an unreleased song from his first self-titled album. i know the request was a bit different, with reader having feelings for charles first, but i think changing it a little bit and having miscommunication made it a bit deeper. so thank you, anons, for these requests, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Arthur has a problem when it comes to you – and that is not being able to say the word ‘no’. This has put him in some very interesting positions in the past, but whatever happens, it just seems that Arthur is not able to mutter out the word ‘no’ when you ask him of something. It’s always been that way, he supposes. He was never able to deny you when you looked at him with the look in your eyes, and he still can’t to this day. When you call him to ask if he wants to come to a party with you? He’s out the door before you tell him the location. When you suddenly have the urge to watch Barbie movies from your childhood? He brings the popcorn and even sings along to some of the songs he knows the words to. You were there for every one of his races before he got the opportunity to travel around the world to drive on the same tracks his brother and even the legends in the sports did. He came to every one of your ballet recitals until you graduated, and he was kind enough to buy you a bouquet of your favourite flowers each time. Although this might be the situation, the relationship you and Arthur have are based on equal grounds – meaning that you love and adore him just as he does you. It’s one of relationships you value the most in your life, the two of you having each other’s back since a very young age, and it is a relationship that you don’t ever want to lose. So, when the time came for both of you to move out of your parents’ houses, it came as no surprise for anyone that you two decided to move in together. Arthur wanted to spend his free time, when he wasn’t racing, with you as much as possible, and you were just happy to be with your best friend. 

Though he’s always been protective over you and it is nothing new, Arthur can’t help but worry every time you go out on a date with a new guy. In reality, he knows you and Patrick have been going out for a while. You’ve told him about Patrick a few times when you called him when he was away for races, and he’s met the guy, but there’s a feeling he just can’t seem to shake off. 

“Are you sure you want to go on this date?” Arthur asks behind the door to your bedroom. 

You groan when the earring you’re trying to get stuck in your hair. “For the millionth time, Arthur, I’m sure.” You check yourself in the mirror for the last time before grabbing your handbag and opening you door to come face to face with a worried face. “Why are you so stressed over this?” You ask him, rummaging through the handbag in your hand to find your lipstick. 

“I’m not stressed, poupette.” doll. Arthur scoffs, watching you with a stern look on your face. “I’m just making sure you’re feeling up to going out tonight.” 

“I’m feeling fine, ma moitié, my other half, you have nothing to worry about.” You assure him with a sweet smile on your face while playfully patting his chest. “Stop acting like this, you look like your mother.” 

“Fine, then, you look like my mother.” You shrug as Arthur rolls his eyes. Loud cackles coming from the living room suddenly grabs both of your attention, making you smile even wider. “Lorenzo, Charles, hi!” 

The two brothers sitting in your living room gives you bright smiles and Hellos. Charles gives you a glance, eyebrows raised as he asks, “Aren’t you going to be cold without a jacket?” 

“You’re not taking a jacket?” A voice exclaims from behind, making you roll your eyes as you point towards Arthur with the tilt of your head. 

“You happy?” You ask while raising your eyebrows. “A jacket doesn’t go with my dress.” You explain, expectantly looking at the older driver as you open your arms and pointing to the dress. 

“Uh, sure, Y/N.” Charles nods in thought. 

Lorenzo hits the back of his brother’s head lightly, shaking his head towards him as he speaks to you. “I think you look lovely, have a good night.” 

“Thank you, Enzo!” You beam, walking towards the front door as you yell. “Arthur I’m leaving, don’t wait up!” At the mention of his name, Arthur comes running towards the front door, reminding you that you can call him at any point during the night if you feel uncomfortable, which in return you assure him you’ll be fine and leave after giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

He sighs deeply as he watches you leave the apartment, and only realises both of his brothers watching him with funny expressions after he closes the door and turns back with the jacket still in his hands. “What?”

“So,” Charles begins when all three of them are sitting on the couch in your living room, getting ready to play a round of FIFA. “How long have you been crushing on Y/N, again?” 

Arthur groans, his face contorting up in a grimace. “Not this again, Charles.” 

“No, he has a point.” Lorenzo mumbles, siding with his brother. “You’ve had a crush on her since you were seven, Arthur.” 

“Exactly!” Charles exclaims, pointing to Arthur excitedly. “Why haven’t you done something about it yet?” 

“Because she is my best friend, you idiots.” Arthur shakes his head, choosing to focus on the game which just started on the screen instead of insistent look Charles and Lorenzo give him. “And, stop saying I have a crush on her.” 

Charles lets out a disapproving sound as he, too, turns towards the game. “Friends don’t look at each other like that.” 

“We look each other normally.” 

“You look like you want to make love to her every time you look at her.” Charles shrugs, making both his older and younger brother turn to him with disgusted looks on their faces. 

“Charles!” Arthur complains. “No!”

“Please don’t ever use the words 'make love' in the same sentence as Arthur and Y/N.” Lorenzo begs, grabbing the bridge of his nose.  

“Fine.” Charles shrugs, as he takes the opportunity to shoot his first goal. “But you can’t deny the fact that your overprotectiveness over Y/N doesn’t stem from your feelings for her. You’ve always been that way and it’s impossible for you to not feel something more for her.” 

Arthur frowns, not because he is losing by the third minute of the game, but because of Charles’ words. “We’ve been friends since we were babies, Charles, of course I’m protective over her.” 

“Which is understandable.” Lorenzo tries to reconciliate.

Charles lets out another disapproving mumble. “So you’d be okay with me asking her out?” 

“Excuse-moi?” Excuse me? Arthur looks at his brother, appalled. “You’re going to do what?” 

“Ask her out, Arthur. Would you be okay if I asked her out?” Charles repeats himself in a nonchalant manner, scoring another goal. 

“Of course not!” Arthur cries out. “Why would you ask her out anyway? She’s seeing Patrick.” 

Charles shrugs noncommittally. “She might break things off with him. You know, I always had a feeling she had a crush on me.” 

“Charles.” Lorenzo scolds his younger brother.

However, Arthur is busy going through every single interaction you’ve had with Charles over the years; trying to find some actuality to his brother’s words. He pauses the game to turn towards his brothers, his eyes angry as he looks at Charles with a locked jaw. “No, you cannot ask out my best friend, you porc!” pig.

“Why?” He asks, with a fake innocent look on his face.

“Because, firstly, she is not a pawn you can use to prove something to me in some messed up game. And, two, she is mybest friend, my roommate and my–” He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he knows how he would end the sentence if he would – which makes him think for a moment that his brothers just might be right.

“Okay, then.” Charles concedes, unpausing the game and taking advantage of the confused state Arthur is in to score, yet, another goal. 

Though the game is going on, Arthur can’t seem to focus on it because he is too busy thinking about you, and whether he’s been in love with you his entire life.

It’s a couple weeks later when Arthur walks through the doors of the ballet studio you work at. He noticed over the few weeks that you’ve been down ever since you’ve stopped seeing Patrick, so he wanted to surprise you. He greets the old receptionist who works out in the front, giving her one of the tulips he got for you on his way there. When he gets in front of the classroom you usually teach in, he watches you with the kids as a soft smile find its way onto his face. He watches as you fix the techniques of some of the girls who are struggling, but instead of appearing upset, they are smiling as they try their best to fix their postures. When you move towards the old stereo on the corner of the room, he knows that the class is about to end – because something you do at the end of every class is letting the student dance freely to the music on the radio without giving them instructions. He watches as one of the smaller boys in the class shyly approach you, motioning you to bend to his height with his hand and then whisper something in your ear. You talk for a while, and he watches as the boy leaves with a smile on his face, which wasn’t there before, after giving you a hug and a small bouquet of flowers. Arthur waits until the class is over and all the kids have left the small studio to walk in. 

“I was wondering if you offered any private lessons?” He asks with a boyish smile on his face. 

You turn towards him, fast, when you hear your voice. Laughing as you cross the room and throw yourself into his waiting arms. “You couldn’t dance even if Marianela Núñez gave you dance classes herself, Turo.” 

“Well I don’t need classes from her,” Arthur rolls his eyes. “All I need is you.” 

You purse your lips, trying not to smile too widely, at the hidden meaning behind his words – the one which you somehow convince yourself that you’re imagining ever being there. Lightly leaning your head against Arthur’s chest, you begin talking. “You’re awfully sweet today, did you know that?” 

He presses a light kiss onto the crown of you head, mumbling in thought. “Well, I missed you because I was alone at home all day. So I thought I’d come surprise you.” Pulling away slowly, he gives you the bouquet of tulips he is holding. “Speaking of which.” 

“They look like the ones you used to get me after my recitals!” You squeal, taking the bouquet from his hand and inspecting it closely. “I love them, Arthur, thank you.” 

“I’m glad you liked them, poupette.” He smiles. “Although, it seems that I have some competition today.”

You smile and shrug at the mention of the other bouquet sitting next to your bag. “Oh, that’s Leon. Some of the older kids at school’s been bothering him because he’s taking ballet classes.” 

“You made him smile,” Arthur recalls, one of his hands cupping your cheek, which makes you look up to him. “Probably made his day, too.” 

“I hope so.” You tell him, honestly. “He seem to like the classes; I would hate to see him leave just because of bullies at school.” 

“You are a very good teacher, you know that?” Arthur murmurs, watching as a rosy colour takes over your cheeks. 

“Stop it.” You huff, trying to push him off of you in a faux attempt. “Did you come here to make me blush, ma moitié?” 

He shakes his head. “No, no. I thought we could go on a walk? At the marina, before it gets dark.” 

You pretend to think for a moment, but smile, nonetheless. “Can we also get burgers?” 

Arthur tries to profess his feelings for you when the two of you go on your ‘date’, he really does. When he sits down and thinks about it, rationally, he can convince himself that you have feelings for him, just the way he does for you. He can see it in the way you glance up at him every time he makes a joke, or the way you lean into his touch every time he touches you, which is a lot. He thinks he sees something every time you end up too close to each other; even convinces himself that perhaps you are expecting a kiss with the way your eyes slide to his lips a couple of times. But every time he tries to force himself to kiss you or tell you how he feels, an apprehensive doubt takes over his entire brain, somehow convincing himself otherwise, that doing so would only end up in you two getting completely messing up your friendship.

There’s also a part of his brain which consistently reminds him that it is Charles you have feelings for and not him. He doesn’t have a reason why he came to this conclusion; you’ve never explicitly told him about having feelings for his older brother, but there’s a part of him that still clings to Charles’ words – even though he didn’t actually mean anything by them. So as any person his age, who is going through what he’s going through, he takes a step back to observe. It all starts when the two of you go out for grocery shopping. It’s not a common occurrence that Arthur accompanies you, mainly because he is on the road most of the time, but he tags along because “He doesn’t want you to carry the bags on your own.” The two of you are busy fighting over cereal when you run into Charles, who provides a solution by offering that you buy both of the boxes. While you tell him it is probably the only way you and Arthur are going to agree on the fact, he is too busy picking apart every part of the interaction to see whether there could be any possibility of you having any feelings for his brother. The worst of them come a few weeks later, when Arthur and Charles come back from a race. All four of you, including Lorenzo, are seated at your dining table, enjoying takeover pizza when Charles announces that he started to see a girl. You all congratulate him, but after the conversation dies down, Arthur notices a familiar look of longing in your eyes. And that’s when he realises that you have feelings for Charles, and not him, and he absolutely needs to get over his feelings for you before it blows up in his face. 

A couple of weeks later, one of his friends from racing invite you to a party. Arthur follows you, of course, because he doesn’t want you to go alone. He know it’s a terrible idea, though, once he sees you in the dress you chose for the party. It’s feels as if it’s impossible for him to keep his eyes (or his hands) off of you. He manages to let out a strangled answer when you ask him if you look okay, “You look good, Y/N.” The smile you give him return is so sweet, that he suddenly remembers that he should schedule an appointment with his dentist when he has the time. Though he doesn’t manage to convince you to take a jacket with you, he picks up his own as a precaution. The party is in full swing by the time the two of you arrive, which you light-heartedly scold him because the two of you are late. He considers apologising at first, but when he sees the smile on your lips, he just lets you drag him towards the bar without any objections. 

“What do you want to drink?” You ask him, leaning over the bar to take a look at the limited menu. You know he wouldn’t want to drink if he was driving the two of you back home, but since you took an Uber to the night club, Arthur decides to drink as well. 

“I’ll have tequila.” He answers after looking at the menu thinking about it for a second, and then turns to you. “You want to do shots?” 

“Yes, please.” You nod, giving him your ‘prettiest’ smile. “Five?” 

“Three.” He shakes his head and gives you a stern look. “And no mixing alcohols, either.” 

You pout as you watch him order your drinks, your arms crossed over your chest pushing your breasts together. “You’re no fun.” 

Arthur’s eyes fall down to your chest for a moment but he promptly fixes his gaze up to yours, as he places his hand on your hip to draw you close to him. He leans down towards you to whisper in your ear, “I’m here with you, aren’t I?” 

You purse your lips, choosing to play with the buttons on his shirt as a distraction. “We haven’t gone out to party in a while, sue me for wanting to have fun.” 

“We will have fun.” Arthur contends as his thumb starts drawing circles on your hipbone. “Just not by doing something which will cause you to wake up hungover tomorrow.” 

You give him a sarcastic smile. “Hm, mon chevalier en armure brillante.” my knight in shining armour. You turn to the bartender who brings over your drinks. “Thank you.” 

Arthur eyes the bartender up and down, his look over quickly morphing into a side-eye once he realises where his eyes are looking at. He somehow pulls you closer to himself, caging you between himself and the bar, and lifts your chin up with two of his fingers to gaze into your eyes. “Be good, baby,” He tests. “Honey.” He warns. 

“I am always good.” You counter, eyebrows furrowing in confusion because of his sudden possessive streak. “Are you okay?” 

He waits until the bartender is tending to other customers to answer your question, his voice is in a lower octave but still somehow audible to you over the loud music in the club. “He was looking at your chest, poupette.”

“My boobs look great in this dress.” You reply while shrugging, the aloof look in your face making Arthur frown. “You didn’t need to act like a caveman, you know. The poor guy was probably scared.” 

“Well, it’s too late now.” He replies, aloof, and downs one of his shots. “Are we doing this or not?” 

It’s a bad idea, after all, tequila shots. Because after you’re done with the first three, you somehow convince Arthur that you need more, which means the both of you end up drinking six shots in the span of half-an hour. The bright side of this situation is that you convince Arthur to dance with you on the dancefloor, which he wouldn’t have done if he was sober. At some point throughout the night the two of you end up getting separated, which has you going around the night club looking for Arthur. You decide to ask some of his friends he introduced to you earlier, who tell you that he’s probably out taking some fresh air. He’s by himself outside of the club, leaning against a wall when you find him. 

“What are you doing here all alone?” You ask him, tilting your head sideways to take a good look at him. 

“It’s quieter out here,” Arthur shrugs, opening his arms and motioning you to come closer. “You’re going to freeze.” 

You find yourself in his arms in record time, not that you could say no to his hugs anyway, his sway making you frown. “Are you okay, Turo?”

He smiles lazily at the nickname as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I’m drunk, ne devrait probablement pas conduire.” probably shouldn't drive.

“It’s okay, I’ll order an Uber.” He keeps his arms around you as you busy yourself with your phone, entering the address of your apartment. 

Just like at the bar or when you were waiting for the Uber to arrive, Arthur doesn’t let you go completely when you’re in the backseat of the car. He makes you wear his jacket before you get into the car, though the oversized clothing doesn’t stop him from managing to make contact with your skin. He has a hand on your thigh, which is exposed because your dress keeps riding up. You make sure to keep an arm around him when you stumble through the door to your apartment. 

You tell him to wait for you in his room and that you’ll be right over after you take your heels; however, he responds by throwing you over his shoulder as he walks through the corridor which leads up to his room. “Arthur, you’re drunk, put me down!” 

“This doesn’t count as drunk driving.” He provides as an excuse, only putting you down when he enters his room – thankfully without any accidents. 

You sit on his bed to take of your heels just as he jumps onto it, making it teeter because of his movements and makes you laugh at him. Shrugging off the jacket he gave you, you walk towards his closet to hand up the garment before the two of you forget about it. Arthur watches you move around his room with dazed eyes, trying very hard not to laugh when he sees you struggling with the hangers and cursing under your breath. His eyes move down your body when you kneel to get to the last drawer to get out a pair of sweatpants for him, which makes him silently groan at the sight. You walk towards him when you get out the sweats and a shirt for him to change into, poking his stomach to make him sit up straight. “Take off your shirt.” 

“Are you trying to get me naked?” He asks, a smirk playing on his lips. “At least take me out to dinner first.” 

“I cook you dinner all the time, Arthur.” You drawl, holding out the clothes for him to take. 

He takes them while mumbling, “And I try my best to eat and enjoy all your attempts.” 

“Casse toi, go away, asshole.” You snap, starting to walk out of the room. 

“Where are you going?” He calls out. 

You scoff, calling out back at him over your shoulder. “To get you water and Advil, you better be changed by the time I’m back or I’m putting you under the cold shower.” 

He is, thankfully, changed by the time you get back with a glass of water and the painkillers you promised, You place them onto his nightstand, and face him. “Off to bed, you go.” 

“Stay here tonight?” He asks you, but his voice is devoid of his previous playfulness.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, chéri.” You press a kiss against his cheek and then, feeling bold, you press another kiss to the beauty mark right above the corner of his lips. “We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

Sleep doesn’t come easy that night, no matter how hard he tries to fall asleep. He keeps trying to convince himself to go to sleep, telling himself that the quicker he does, the quicker he’ll see you in the morning, but he is unable to do so. At some point in the night, he finds himself slipping through your door. He ends up slipping under your covers too, and pulls you against his chest, causing you to stir in your sleep as you cuddle his side. 

“Go back to sleep, honey.” He whispers as he closes his eyes, and he finally drifts off to sleep when he finally has you in his arms. 

You’re sleeping on top of him when he wakes up the next morning with his face buried in your hair. Your closed eyes and even breathing indicates that you’re still asleep, which causes Arthur to do his best to stay still not to wake you up. He soaks up every moment of it until your eyes flutter open and you let out a low whine, asking, “Why are you in my bed? How’d you get here?” 

“I sneaked in.” He replies, pressing a kiss on your cheek. “Good morning, baby.”

“I’m loving the new nicknames; baby, honey?” You mumble, nuzzling your nose against his jaw. “Why’d you sneak in?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He confesses with a strained look on his face, and then he announces. “You’re not my girlfriend.”

You pick up your head so quickly, you think you’re going to break your neck. “I’m aware of that fact, Arthur.” You manage to get out in a clipped voice. 

“And I should probably be thinking about protecting our friendship first, but I have to say this even though you have feelings for my brother.”

“Your brother?” You look at him with your mouth agape. “You think I have feelings for your brother? Lorenzo? He’s like my brother!”

He’s taken aback by your question. “No- not Lorenzo! Do you have a crush on Lorenzo?”

“No! You idiot, why would I have feelings for Lorenzo?” You ask him as you scramble to get off of him, letting yourself fall to the bed and pick up your pillow to hit Arthur over the head with. “I don’t have feelings for either of your brothers, other than being friends, you disgusting pig!” 

“You don’t have feelings for Charles?” He asks you tentatively which earns him another hit on the head with the pillow. “Okay, would you please stop that?”

“No, I don’t have feelings for Charles, either! Oh my god, Arthur, what is wrong with you?” The look you give him reflect how much you’re hurt, your fingers occupy themselves with the edge of the pillowcase as you ask, “Do you honestly think I’d be in bed with you like that if I had feelings for your brother?”

He’s careful as he asks, “…No?” He lets out a frustrated groan as he pushes himself to get to a standing position. “I don’t know what to think, anymore. I like you so much that somehow you’ve taken over my entire brain!” 

“You… like me?” You ask him, breath hitching in your throat.

“No.” Comes his reply. 

“So, you don’t like me?” 

His hands grasp the roots of his hair. “No, I adore you, I am utterly infatuated by you, I am so besotted by you that every moment of my waking days are filled with the thoughts of you, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I even think about you when I’m on the track–” 

“Arthur, breathe.” You warn him, your hands quickly going over his to try and get them off.

“You really don’t have feelings for Charles?” He asks in a small voice. You answer him by shaking your head, which prompts him to ask, “Then why were you sad when he announced he was seeing someone?”

“He told me you’d confess your feelings to me before he ever found someone to date for himself.” You shrug, the corners of your mouth dipping as if you’re trying to keep tears at bay. “I guess I somehow made myself believe you would.” 

“Baby–” He stops himself. “Honey, please don’t cry.” He reaches over you to wipe away some of the stray tears that have escaped your eyes, taking a deep breath. “I am stupid.”

“Very much so, yes.” You agree with him as you lean against his touch. “Though, I’m surprised you didn’t notice me flirting with you over the past year.” 

“You’ve been flirting me for a year?” He asks you, baffled. 

You fix him with an unamused look. “Do you think I go around talking about my boobs with everyone?”

“You better not be.” He scoffs as he draws you closer to him. 

“I just might do so if you don’t do something about it.” You egg him on without changing the expression on your face. 

You squeal as Arthur picks you up and gently throws you down on the bed, quickly changing his position to hover over you as he presses kisses all over your face. “Mine,” He announces. “Mine, my girl.” 

“I like the sound of that,” You breathe out. “But I liked the others more.” 

“Which ones?” He asks while letting his finger trace over the outline of your lips. 

“Baby, honey, I don’t even know what you were trying to say.” You giggle. 

“Mine.” He whispers. “I was trying to say that you’re mine.” 

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #arthur leclerc smut #arthur lecler fluff

[petcr3]

don't shed no tears | bradley bradshaw x reader

summary: you have a terrible day. bradley has a plan.

word count: 845

warnings: bradley calls the reader my girl, this one is very short lol!

You almost hold it together. 

Really, you almost do.

But your work day seemed determined never to end. Each time you thought you’d gotten on top of what you needed to do, there was a new fire to put out. It was as if everything that could have gone wrong did, and just about everyone you encountered during your day was in a foul mood. 

Even so, you had pushed through frustration after frustration, and finally made it home. It’s your day off tomorrow and you get to spend the rest of your night with your boyfriend. Things are looking up.

Any other day, you would have laughed it off. But when you finally let yourself plop down on the couch that’s flush with your living room wall and bang your head, the dam just breaks. 

The sound of a particularly forceful “motherfucker!” sends Bradley bolting downstairs, and when he sees you crouched forward, your face in your hands, he’s on his knees in front of you in seconds.

“Honey? What happened, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” you say miserably.

“You don’t sound fine.” You don’t respond for a moment. The rough pad of his thumb wipes a wayward tear from your cheek. “You’re crying, hun.”

“I’m fine,” you repeat, voice wavering, “I just hit my head.”

“You hit your head?” You want to curl up and wither away. This is so embarrassing. It’s only the worry in his voice that makes you look up.

“Not hard. I just clonked it when I sat down. I’m… I had a really bad day. I’m sorry.” 

“Hey,” he says softly, “don’t apologize. Not your fault you had a bad day. C’mere.” Bradley leans forward, still kneeling in front of you, and wraps you in his arms. You sag into his embrace, and tears begin to darken the fabric of his sweatshirt. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks. A little sob works its way out of your chest.

“Not–– not really.” You feel Bradley’s mustache before his lips as he turns to press a kiss to your temple.

“That’s okay,” he coos, “It’s okay.” He’s quiet for a moment, and then: “I have an idea.” 

You aren’t particularly pleased when he gets up, but you don’t have it in you to complain. His footfalls are quiet on the carpet as he pads over to the record player and starts fiddling around.

“What are you doing?” you hazard after a moment.

“I can’t tell you,” he says. “Just hang on a second–– this is gonna be romantic as shit.” You let out a little giggle through your tears, and he grins over his shoulder at you. Leave it to Bradley to make you laugh when all you want to do is crawl into a hole and never come out.

A little flash of blue catches your eye as he finds whatever album he’s been searching for, but you don’t get a good enough look to suss out what it is. Finally, he drops the needle, and you hear the opening notes of No Woman No Cry. The organ plays softly, and you sniffle as a fresh wave of tears hits you. Bradley holds out his hand. 

“Dance with me?” You wipe your eyes and nod, shuffling into his arms. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head and draws you in, settling you against his chest with a hand at the nape of your neck. Relief floods through you at the warmth of his touch, the slow and comforting beat of the music, the sway of your bodies.

“I love you,” you mumble into his chest.

“I love you too, baby. I’m sorry you had a bad day.”

“It’s much better now.” That makes him smile. The rest of the song plays out to comfortable silence as you rock back and forth together. It’s a longer cut–– the live version Bradley is playing is a little more than seven minutes–– and eventually, you find that you’re cried out. As the song ends and the crowd on the recording begins to cheer, you tilt your chin up to look at him.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Hey, anything to see my girl smile.” And you do, tilting your head down bashfully. 

As the cheers fade, the next song on the record begins to play and the plucky guitar of Could You Be Loved fills the room. Unable to help himself, Bradley begins to bob along with the rhythm. He withdraws a little from the embrace and takes your hands, bouncing your arms back and forth. You feign a pout, but it’s useless. As usual, Bradley Bradshaw is sunshine, fending off the gathering clouds until all you can see is him. You relent and begin to match his movements and he breaks into a beautiful, enormous grin.

As you dance late into the night, you remember that this is what it’s all about. That no matter how awful your day is, you have someone to come home to that knows, without fail, how to lift you up.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #top gun maverick imagine #tgm imagine #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster x you

[wontheworld]

She’s Gorgeous

Paring: fem idol! y/n x idol !Niki

Genre: fluff (?)

Summary: Y/n and Niki are both idols that are secretly dating, their MAMA interactions are suspicious

Warnings: cursing, none otherthat I know of!

Notes: not proofread! You can see I love the idol! Reader fics idkw

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

Mama, the end of the year award show that everyone looks forward too, also when some fans see idol interactions.

Y/n came in with her group, her being the last behind the eleven other girls as they walked in, age order.

Y/n bowed as they walked in-front of enhypen. Niki smiled as soon as he saw his girlfriend, she looked at him and smirked a little before her group sat in the chair’s in front of them.

“Niki is trying his best not to stare at you” her member whispered in her ear as y/n giggled before hitting her shoulder.

Niki looked at her hitting her member shoulder before smiling and looking back at the performance,

The groups had did their performances now it was time for the awards.

“Artist of the year goes to…” Wonyoung said as everyone got excited

“It’s not us” her member said shaking her head before sighing as Y/n rubbed her shoulder

“Celestial!” Juyeon said next to her as the girls gasped all looking at each other, the other groups got up clapping as the girls bowed with their mouths still open

“Explore the sky, hello we are Celestial” introduced as everyone clapped

The members looked around at each other on who to speak and they all looked at Y/n.

She sighed before going to the mic, “This is honestly so shocking, never in my life would I expect to get a award like this along with album of the year” she spoke as her eyes sparkled in the lights

The camera focused back on her, “YOURE SO BEAUTIFUL!” A fan yelled before she could speak making everyone cheer as she laughed while covering her face

The camera soon went a smiling Niki, “She’s gorgeous” his mouthed not knowing the camera was on him

“And I truly thank Hybe, producers, managers and most importantly our fans for making our dream come true” she said before backing away from the mic as her crying leader went up to speak

_____

The idols came together as they sang or danced to Gangnam Style, Enhypen and Celestial once again were by each other

This time Niki and Y/N being right next to each other

Y/n glanced up at Niki before smiling to herself, Niki seeing her on the side of his eye smiled to himself also

They soon went home.

Niki: you looked 10x gorgeous today

Y/n: Do I not look 10x gorgeous everyday? Just today 😒

Niki: you know damn well….

Niki: you look 100000x gorgeous everyday

Y/n: I think I love my bf!

Niki: ahh have you checked Twitter? These people are fast!

Y/n: the fuck did you do this time? What is people mad you blew out another candle

Y/n: I swear bro

Niki: I didn’t know the camera was on me when I called you gorgeous

Niki: Jungwon is on my ass right now and Heeseung is instigating

Y/n: NIKI FOR FUCKS SAKE!!!

Y/n: oh hell nah, I’m going to get teased when I come out of my room tomorrow

Niki: it’s you’r fault too!! You smiled at me when Gangnam Style was playing and you smirked after bowing to me!

Y/n: Damn they got those angles? I need the camera they have- ANYWAYS!

Niki: 😭😭😭😭

Y/n: wanna call? Let’s go to sleep pook!

Niki: let’s do that! And when we wake up we can face the manager scolding

Y/n: sounds like a date!

Niki: a distance and scolding date

Y/n: riki-

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©️wontheworld

Song for today:

#enhypen dribbles #enhypen imagines #kpop fluff #spotify #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen #kpop imagines #sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon #niki fluff #niki x reader #enhypen niki #niki imagines

[harrysfolklore]

hey could u do masie peters as a face claim with singer yn

i was dying to do tom x singer!yn and i this came up ! i really really hope you like it as much as i do !

AND HAPPY 29TH BIRTHDAY TO THE MAN THE MYTH THE LEGEND TOM BLYTH. ILY

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by rachelzegler, oliviarodrigo and 836,038 others

yourinstagram the good witch as been out for a week and i just want to say thank for all the love 🥹 here’s a pic of me right before recording the saddest song on the album lol

view all 18,037 comments

ynfan1 IM SO PROOOOUD

ynfan2 i love her so bad

troyesivan absolutely obsessed with every track

ynfan3 WE NEED THE DELUXE VERSION

rachelzegler I’m sooo obsessed with this album, I’ve played it on set like a hundred times this week I’m pretty sure all the cast is sick of me lol. LOVE YOU CONGRATS ❤️

↳ yourinstagram rachh 🥹🥹 thank you for your support ! means the world to me and i hope your cast mates don’t hate me lol. good luck on filming and i can’t wait to see the movie !!

↳ ynfan1 QUEENS SUPPORTING EACH OTHER

↳ ynfan3 i love them so much

liked by hunterschafer, yourinstagram and 486,529 others

tomblyth HG film dump. Just some of the many people I love who breathed life into this movie. @songbirdsandsnakes opens tomorrow 🤍

view all 11,160 comments

tomfan1 CRYING

tomfan2 this movie is about to change my life

mtv new crush unlocked

florencepugh ❤️

tomfan3 i love this cast so bad

rachelzegler LOVE YOU ALL 💘

tomfan4 my man my man my man

liked by shawnmendes, tomblyth and 840,726 others

yourinstagram MANCHESTER THAT WAS AWESOME !! and london you’re next 🥹

view all 18,937 comments

ynfan1 BEST SHOW IN THE WORLD

ynfan2 my turn when

madisonbeer superstar 🤍

rachelzegler I can’t wait to see you live !!

↳ tomblyth I’m tagging along

↳ tomfan1 WEEE TOM A YN FAN SO TRUE

↳ yourinstagram you guys are welcome anytime

ynfan3 she’s a celebrity to celebrities omg

mtv yn x tbosas cast? a yes from me

INTERVIEWS FROM TBOSAS PROMO

INSTAGRAM STORIES

//

liked by tomfan1, tomfan2 and 10,837 others

tomupdates TOM ARRIVING TO O2 ARENA IN LONDON TODAY?

view all 943 comments

tomfan1 OMGGG

ynfan1 YN HAS A SHOW THERE LAJSKA

tomfan2 he’s really seeing yn live😭 such a fanboy

ynfan2 that’s it. i ship them

↳ tomfan3 SAMEEEE

ynfan3 MY FAVES

liked by ynfan1, ynfan2 and 13,378 others

ynupdates “Tonight’s show is special. Not only because we’re at the O2 arena which is absolutely freaking cool, but also because we have some friends coming to see us, and it’s always a pleasure to play for old and new friends.” - YN at tonight’s show !

view all 966 comments

ynfan1 OMGGG

ynfan2 I LOVE HER

tomfan1 omfg is this about tom ???

tomfan2 TOM WAS IN THE AUDIENCE

ynfan3 she’s not sneaky

liked by conangray, tomblyth and 845,380 others

yourinstagram LONDON THAT WAS ONE OF MY FAVORITE SHOWS EVER !! thank you to everyone who came 🤍

view all 18,038 comments

ynfan1 I CANT BELIEVE I WAS THERE

ynfan2 POP QUEEN

oliviarodrigo best show ever 💜

tomfan1 i bet tom was fangirling the entire time

hunterschafer I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

tomblyth Amazing show and amazing performer, I'm blown away

↳ tomfan2 AHHHH

↳ tomfan3 i literally ship them so hard

↳ ynfan3 thats a MAN

FANS VIA TWITTER

//

liked by yourinstagram, hunterschafer and 764,093 others

tomblyth Afterparty-ing 🥂

view all 17,394 comments

tomfan1 YEEEEEES

tomfan2 HE WENT TO YN'S AFTERPATY

rachelzegler 👯‍♂️

ynfan1 hes so hooot yn better give him a chance

↳ tomfan3 chill they're just friends

yourinstagram thank you for coming 💕

↳ ynfan2 THE EMOJIII

↳ tomfan2 i'm trying so hard to be normal and not ship them

TEXTS BETWEEN TOM AND YN

//

liked by gracieabrams, lauraharrier and 876,309 others

yourinstagram unfiltered friday dump

view all 18,275 comments

ynfan1 i live for this

ynfan2 her monopoly obsession is still going strong

rachelzegler You sneaky shits! Invite me next time

↳ ynfan3 WHAT DOES SHE MEAN ?

↳ yourinstagram i’ll make sure snow lets you know next time

↳ tomfan1 SNOW ?? TOM??

↳ tomfan2 AHHHHH

tomblyth It was such a pleasure to beat you at Monopoly

↳ tomfan1 AH SO SHE WAS WITH TOM

↳ ynfan3 IM THROWING UP

↳ yourinstagram shhh don’t let everyone know🥲

↳ ynfan3 😭😭😭

liked by yourinstagram, maya_hawke and 630,998 others

tomblyth I made a new friend 😊

view all 18,937 comments

tomfan1 MY HEART

ynfan1 THATS YN’S DOG STFU

rachelzegler I keep getting excluded from this relationship 🥲🥲

↳ tomfan2 RELATIONSHIP???

↳ ynfan2 NOT RACHEL OUTING THEIR BUSINESS

hunterschafer babies

yourinstagram i can’t believe i’ve been replaced

↳ tomblyth Sorry love, I’m just really charming

↳ ynfan1 STOOOOOP

↳ tomfan3 HE’S SHAMELESS

DEUXMOI VIA INSTAGRAM STORIES

//

liked by tomfan1, ynfan1 and 40,826 others

celebrityleaks TOM BLYTH AND YN OUT IN LOS ANGELES TODAY

view all 2,927 comments

tomfan1 LORD

ynfan1 I KNEW IT

tomfan2 THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY

ynfan2 AHHHH I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

tomfan3 the couple we never knew we needed

ynfan3 we literally saw this relationship come to life I LOVE IT

tomfan4 byeee yall already claiming they’re in a relationship when they could be just friends

↳ ynfan1 you’re delulu

↳ tomfan1 the denial stage i see

liked by tomblyth, teddysphotos and 837,937 others

yourinstagram we’re in the middle of a tour but i couldn’t help myself and i got into the studio to pour out my lovey dovey feelings and ‘glue song’ came to life ! it’s going to be available everywhere on feb 2 (💓), i hope you like it 🥹

view all 19,045 comments

ynfan1 OH MY GOD ??

ynfan2 AHHHHHH WE WON

sabrinacarpenter such a sweet song i love it 🥰

tomfan1 IS THIS ABOUT TOM ??? BECAUSE IF IT IS I MIGHT CRY

gracieeabrams in your lover era 🥺

ynfan3 SHES DOWN BADDDDDD

tomfan3 HOLD ON. SHES RELEASING IT ON TOM’S BDAY !!!?

↳ tomfan1 YOU’RE RIGHT

↳ ynfan2 and just like that im sobbing again

tomfan2 i want to be stuck to tom like glue too

tomblyth ❤️

↳ ynfan3 SOBBING

↳ tomfan3 THIS IS CONFIRMATION

liked by yourinstagram, hunterschafer and 702,825 others

tomblyth What the bracelets say ❤️ @yourinstagram

view all 17,937 comments

tomfan1 STOP IT

ynfan1 i’ve died dead

rachelzegler MY BABIES MY LOVES 😭💘

↳ tomfan2 if you think about it rachel was lowkey the matchmaker here

↳ tomfan1 hunter aswell !

hunterschafer 🥲🥲🥲🤍🤍🤍

ynfan2 SHE DESERVES A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP IM SO HAPPY

tomfan3 couple of the century for real

ynfan3 THE FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS 😩

yourinstagram love you be stuck 2 u you and your early morning karaoke 💘 happy birthday my love

↳ ynfan1 AHHHH

↳ tomfan3 WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS INFORMATION

#tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth blurb #tom blyth fake instagram #tom blyth social media au #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tom blyth fic #harrysfolklore #tom blyth fluff #tom blyth smut #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow smut #social media au #tom blyth au #tom blyth story #tom blyth one shot #tom blyth fanfic #tom blyth writing #tom blyth request

[eddiernunson]

The Taste of You | Modern Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem Reader | 18 +

Word Count: 8.1k

Summary: after attending a successful and rather sweaty concert from Corroded Coffin, you send the front man a rather thirsty DM on his instagram. You wake up to his response...and an offer to go backstage to follow through.

Warnings: lowkey unrealistic, alcohol, oral (f + m receiving), marking, begging (both), no protection, cream pie, use of aftercare

MINORS DNI

Based on my friend @bebe07011 going to a concert and DM'ing one of the band members (who looks a lot like Eddie) about how much she was enthralled by his performance and him responding back. This one's for you <3

Thank you so much to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you again for editing, you're my lifesaver.

-

You lean on the counter at work, distracted by your Instagram feed. Well, not distracted, per se. There are several more productive things you could be doing, but with your manager out on an errand and no customers to serve, there isn’t really anything stopping you. A post from Corroded Coffin comes up, a few images from their latest stop on tour. You can hardly prevent an excited squeal from escaping your lips, scrolling through their images, and rereading the end of the post over and over. ‘See you next, Indiana!’

You’ve been looking forward to this since buying tickets at the announcement of their tour nearly four months ago. It’s been a summer of anticipation; each post a countdown to your own concert date.

You discovered Corroded Coffin through suggestions from Spotify, the algorithm having picked up on your tastes in rock music and suggested a more modern band. Their music is good, you discovered. Their first album Freaks in the Streets came out about two years ago, and it’s raw in its talent but their latest album, Hell’s on Fire (And So Are You) shot them into stardom. You had it on repeat for months, and their lead guitarist being hot as he was had nothing to do with your fixation.

Okay, discovering Eddie Munson, (said lead guitarist) the main lyricist on the album, had everything to do with your fixation. Every late-night TV host offered a slot for them to play their music and Eddie’s charisma as he cheekily answers questions about his off-putting lyrics drove you into over-excitement mode. You can still hardly believe you're going to be able to watch his sweaty chest perform live.

Your concert date is tomorrow, and you have everything set up. You booked it off from work, got the perfect outfit, and the tickets are waiting on your apple wallet. You set your phone down, locking it. As always, the phone lights up when it faces up and you catch the image of the glistening sweat on Eddie’s chest during a performance from a tweet that went viral a few weeks ago, a photo you immediately saved for your phone. God, he’s mouthwatering. There were several hundred women in the retweets praising him as well, so, of course, there’s no chance in hell.

But it’s nice to fantasize.

-

You sit comfortably in the level 100 seats, dressed in a somewhat alternative outfit, high waisted black shorts with a fringe hanging off them, a chain on your belt loops, and a ripped crop top with the bands logo you found in an urban clothing store. You hold a beer in one hand and your phone in the other, recording the opening act as they sing to an audience that is only half paying attention.

Luckily, you know some of their songs on their short 8-song setlist, half-heartedly singing along but saving your voice for the main act. Though, you know your heart isn’t in it when you notice the placement of the jewels you glued to your temple is awkward. When you squint your eyes in a certain way they seem to threaten to fall off. Whatever, they were dollar store jewels, anyway.

The band finishes their less than overwhelming act, thanking the audience, and teasing them with the fact that the main act is backstage and apparently excited to put a show on for their home state. Somehow, it keeps escaping you that you happen to live about 60 miles away from where Eddie Munson grew up, Hawkins, Indiana. That place certainly had a reputation for itself.

You make small talk with your best friend, who is as excited as ever, if anything, to see your face when you melt to the floor. Natalie isn’t into their music like you are, but she can admit that their music is objectively good. Free concert and the power to tease you? Natalie is SO in. “What outfit you think he’s gonna wear tonight?” You shrug, sipping some wheat water. You don’t like beer, but the venue’s options when it comes to alcohol are…limited to say the least. Natalie leans in to you. “You think he’s gonna wear a shirt this time?”

You elbow her, your cheeks heating up. Some places he wears a shirt, and it’s a day of tragedy. Some places he comes out with his chest already bare, and it’s pure heaven. Although, he is known to rip a shirt off occasionally, and you have far too many videos of that saved on your phone. “I don’t know. We’ll find out when he comes out.”

You’re in the middle of a conversation about the politics of the latest show you’re watching together and the lights go down. An electric guitar is heard but out of sight. Subconsciously, you grab your friend’s forearm as your eyes widen in anticipation, your ass literally hovering on your chair as you’re at the edge of your seat. You hear her laugh, but you can’t focus as the lights on stage dramatically light up two at a time, and out of nowhere you can see the four band members, Eddie second to the left. Oh god, he’s wearing an open jacket with a metal chain. Holy shit.

You’re on your feet and screaming lyrics before you even know it.

The night goes by in a blur, and none of the videos you’ve seen online do Corroded Coffin any justice. Their online stage presence is unstoppable. And while Eddie was a large part of the crowd draw in, you watch as he interacts with each band member, using their energy to amplify his own. He really couldn’t do this without them, which is why he’s so insistent in every interview he’s given. Halfway through the show, Eddie does a quick run backstage, claiming his jacket was ‘too fucking hot’ and when he comes out in a fishnet shirt, the crowd goes absolutely nuts.

You sit in the back of a cab, buzzed and rewatching the multiple videos you’ve taken repeatedly, smiling giddily to yourself. “That was such a good show.” You mumble to yourself, sipping from the drink you promised to the cab driver you wouldn’t spill from. You’re so drunk you barely even notice the taste of the beer anymore.

The cab driver pulls up to the hotel and you drunkenly climb out, handing him four 20-dollar bills on the way, making sure he’s tipped well for having to put up with your drunk ass. He doesn’t seem to mind too much, but then again, you’re too busy rewatching your thirst caught in 4K to even notice. God damn, the video really doesn’t put his glistening chest any justice. It was even better in person. If you could just lick up his chest, you knew every problem in your life would be solved.

Your best friend laughs behind you, escorting you to the hotel room. As the hotel room door opens you just want to climb into bed and scroll through your phone, but Natalie makes you wipe off your make up and get dressed into some pajamas. You check your Instagram, Corroded Coffin’s post from tonight at the top of the feed. There were some high-quality shots of him in his fishnet shirt that you immediately save, going over to Eddie Munson’s personal Instagram from where he’s tagged in the post.

God, he must get hundreds of DMs in a day. One raindrop doesn’t affect the ocean. I wanna lick the sweat off your chest so fucking bad just gimme a chance. Your thumb hovers over the send button, but you’ve sent several messages to celebrities before, and they never respond. So, you hit send, and you’re asleep within minutes, your lamp still lit next to you as the water from the shower in the bathroom less than ten feet away from you lulls you into a deep sleep.

-

Your 10AM alarm rings, yanking you out of a deep sleep.  If you could, you’d spend the next ten hours sleeping to shake off the hangover, but you've gotta get up to have time to pack up and get changed before check out. You can shower tonight at home. As you sit up on your bed, dismissing the alarm, the headache kicks in, making you groan. Oh, fuck, are you hungover.

You check your phone quickly, and as you scroll down your notifications, you triple check a notification just to make sure you’re reading it right. At first, you’re confused. Why would he be messaging you? Your eyes widen as you promptly yeet your phone to your friend's bed when you remember what the fuck you sent to him last night. You curl in on yourself with your knees up against your chest and your hands over your mouth in disbelief.

Natalie comes out of the bathroom after hearing your phone bounce off the bed and land on the floor. “Whoa,” Natalie breathes, seeing your stunned stature. “Are you okay?”

You shake your head, shellshocked.

“Okay, can you at least tell me what happened? You’re kind of freaking me out here.”

“I sent a really, really thirsty message to Eddie Munson last night and I saw a notification saying he responded.” You admit, no higher than a whisper.

“What?!” Natalie nearly shouts, a bit loud in the quiet morning of the small hotel. “Well then open it and read it! What did he say?”

“I’m scared too look!” You admit, grabbing a pillow and holding it close to your chest.

Natalie grabs your pillow and tosses it to the side, her wet blonde hair shining prettily in the morning sun. “Get up, you big baby! Open the goddamn message!”

Fuck, Natalie’s right. Doesn’t mean you liked it. You bend to pick your phone up, sitting next to her on the bed as you open your Instagram notification. Fuck, he responded only fifteen minutes after your message. “Oh you sent him a very thirsty message.”

“Look what the fuck he wrote back.” You whisper, eyes wide as your heart pounds out of your chest.

apricothamster147: I wanna lick the sweat off your chest so fucking bad just gimme a chance.

eddiemunson: Well, damn baby, are you still in town for tonight’s show? Come backstage and we’ll see about making that happen. (Send me ur email for tix)

“Holy shit.” Natalie mutters out loud, her eyes bugging to his response as well. “Well? Are you gonna accept?”

You chortle, holding your hand out to her comically. “Do you have enough money for another night?”

Natalie shrugs. “I have my dad’s credit card.”

“Are you allowed to use it?”

“Only when I need it.”

“Shit.”

“Honestly, girl, you need it. Go ahead, send him your email, I’ll get us another night.”

Your thumbs move fast, hoping his offer wasn’t due to a lack of sobriety or a glitch in the Matrix. If you’re still accepting my offer, my email is [email protected]. You add a heart emoji just to be safe and send off a message to him.

Your best friend is in the middle of a phone call with her father to get him to call the front desk. They would only accept the credit card if they could speak to him. “Thank you!” Natalie hangs the phone up, looking at you. “Hotel is taken care of!”

You’re lying on your bed at this point, still in your pajamas with your palms stacked on your forehead. “What the fuck am I even gonna wear?”

“You brought multiple outfits, right?” Natalie asks you, sitting on her bed and laying down now that she no longer has to get ready to leave.

“Yeah, I brought some back-ups.” You sit up quickly, eyes wide. “I need your expertise in styling it, though. I have to look hot.”  

Natalie sits up as well, serious as she can be. “Oh sweetheart, he won’t know what hit him.”

-

An hour into her crusade, styling your hair, your phone lights up in a notification. Your phone is closer to her, so you ask her to check it, Natalie knows your passcode, anyway. You know what it is immediately based on the expression you see on her face in the mirror. “Did he respond?”

“Yes!” Natalie answers, placing the hot tool down and putting the freed hand over her mouth.

“Oh my god, gimme that!” You respond, too impatient to wait for her to calm down.

eddiemunson: See you tonight (with a winky emoji)

“Oh my fucking god.” You let out, and suddenly it occurs to you that you’re seeing him in concert again. There’s even a slight possibility of you meeting him, however slim that he may remember to even do it.

A notification from your gmail rings, and you see ticketmaster. You hit it hard, seeing First Name, ‘Unknown’ Last Name, ‘Stranger’ has gifted you two VIP Floor Tickets with Back Stage passes, apparently just scanning the barcode will get you backstage. No. It wasn’t…no. This isn’t real. You stared off into the distance, eyes up from your phone. This doesn’t happen…

“Babe!”

You’re snapped out of it, realizing you zoned out in disbelief. “I’m just…a little in shock.”

Natalie smirks at you, tilting your chin on her fingertips gracefully. “Well now we know it’s fucking real, so let’s party hard, babe!”

Your eyes roll at her antics, but you love them. “Thanks for asking your dad.”

“Bitch, what’s a rich daddy good for if not for my friends?” Natalie laughs, starting to use the iron on your hair again.

Your makeup is done, rhinestones on the inner corners of your eyes, and you're wearing fishnet tights under a jean skirt and an oversized Corroded Coffin band tee. You usually used it as a sleep shirt, but Natalie insists it would work its magic.

Butterflies invade your stomach as soon as your black boots hit the pavement outside the hotel, the sunset cascading across the sky in a beautiful haze of orange and pink. As your thighs feel uncomfortable against the fabric of the cab, you hope your insides will feel as nice as the outside looks right now.

You pay your cab, all on the card, and get out, your stomach in knots. Well, it's now or never. Hesitantly, you hold your phone out for your ticket scanner on the main floor and she approves, giving you the thumbs up. “Wait.” the ticket scanner holds her hands out when she notices the big red letters, BACKSTAGE PASSES. You think you’re in trouble when you’re both handed the Backstage Pass Lanyards, decorated with the Corroded Coffin logo.

This is where you start to believe that you might’ve died last night with alcohol poisoning because there’s no way in Gods’ Green Earth is this real.

You both thank the attendant and walk to your seats, front and center, third row back. You could see the scratches on the sticker on the speakers from the inspector in the factory. Damn, were you close. “We’re going to go deaf.” Natalie comments, a half smile on your face. “Need a drink?”

“Please.” You answer, eyes wide. Natalie laughs and gets up to walk towards the bar, which is much less crowded around in the VIP section of the floor. Fucking wild.

You hold your phone and sing along to some more of the opening act's songs tonight, now gaining some familiarity with it. They’re great musicians, but they’re just not on Corroded Coffin’s level yet. They definitely have the potential to get there.

Their set list ends, and you notice that the lead singer is close enough for you to see the beads of sweat on his forehead.

Oh god, you’re going to die.

Natalie tries to keep you entertained by chatting about anything she can, but it does so little to prevent time from crawling by at a snail's pace.

Your phone buzzes in your hand, and it’s a message from him. Wish Me Luck! You swear up and down it’s immediately after when the lights go down and the guitar starts playing off stage. Did he really just text you right before he started his show? Did that really just happen?

If there’s one thing about being in the third row with little to no one to block your view, it’s that no amount of high quality photos on twitter will ever amount to the real thing less than ten feet away. The sweat that drips down his leather vest for the night is mouth watering, the dark eyes in his expression as he performs hypnotizes you. You sing the lyrics, and jump and dance and occasionally drink, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t tear your gaze away from him.

And for a few moments, it’s like he holds your eye contact. No, that’s crazy. Nothing is happening. He has a million other girls to choose from, why would he choose you?

The concert happens in a blur, Eddie flings off the vest about halfway through the show, splashing some of his hair with his sweat. Your friend laughs at the sharp inhale that leaves your chest as you watch it. Man, he really had you in his clutches.

Eddie holds his arms out for his band as they close off the last song, all bowing together. “Thank you, Indiana! You’ve been a fucking fantastic crowd, thank you!”

“You ready?” Natalie asks you, holding out her lanyard cheekily.

“Nope.” You admit, taking a large gulp of the beer you barely touched. “After another beer I might be.”

“You really wanna meet him tipsy?” Natalie asks, raising her eyebrows at you.

“I don’t wanna be afraid to say anything!” You shoot back, leading her to the bar. You buy another one, and it’s down your throat within five minutes. You inhale deeply, wiping your face off from the excess beer around your mouth. “Does my mouth smell like beer?” You ask, suddenly worried.

“If you have to ask, I think you already know.” Natalie tells you, patting your back and leading you to the sign that says BACKSTAGE in all caps with an arrow pointing left.

A big security personnel blocks the big black curtain to the backstage area. You hold out your lanyard to him, and he gruffs as he holds his hand out for it. He takes a scanner to check out its legitimacy, and once both lanyards are in the clear, his face breaks into a smile, stepping aside to allow you through. It's almost comical.

The backstage area is busier than you had expected, arrows pointing you to where the visitors go, narrowly avoiding the crew as they bustle around. You both walk into a large area where several band members talk to friends or family, all sporting towels to dab their sweat away.

“Oh my god thank you for sending that DM.” Natalie whispers to you, looking around while starstruck. “I’m sure half these people aren’t even celebrities, but this is so cool! I’m going to go and mingle, you stick around for—”

You grab her by the collar, “Don’t you dare leave me alone here.”

“Ok, how bout we both grab some food? Maybe sober up?”

“Only because I’m hungry and free food tastes the best.”

You’re slowly picking at the fruit tray when you hear someone near you call out, “Eddie! My man!” You turn around to face him, the half-eaten strawberry you drop landing on the plastic tray loudly. You quickly finish the fruit and watch as he hugs his bandmate. “What, no shower, bro? You stink!”

The room echoes in laughter, and you join them. He does stink, and he stinks marvelously. The very scent makes you salivate. His laughter, it’s even better in person. He’s never laughed like this in any interview, all calm and toned down for the camera. This is genuine, heartfelt laughter.

You turn around to lean on the table, Jesus you need to calm yourself. Seeing him up close is sending a heat to your center that you're going to need to resolve quickly.

“Fancy seeing you, here.” His voice sends a shiver down your spine, barely five feet away. You turn and face him, your breath knocking out of your chest. Words cannot describe how little all of the photos in the world do him any justice. He is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

“Thanks for i-inviting me.” You answer, gulping at the slight shine his sweat still gives him. “You’re a really great performer…” You find yourself distracted by his chest. He’s probably going to get all sticky soon… he smelled even better up close…

“I’m gonna go mingle.” Natalie says, pointing towards a crowd of people talking to the band members. “Text me to let me know if you’re meeting me at the hotel.” Natalie gives a shy smile to Eddie and walks away before you could answer.

“Thank you.” He nods his head, giving you a smirk. Then, the unthinkable happens as he uses his thumb and pointer finger to lift your chin to capture your eyes with his own. How are they so pretty? “Are you going to make do on your promise?”

You gulp, your eyes flickering down to his pink lips. You’ve stared at his lips, how many times now? You nod slowly, peering up at him through your lashes.

“Let’s go somewhere a bit more quiet, then.” He offers, extending his hand for you.

You take it silently, his rough hands feeling warm and rough, but perfect. He leads you about ten steps down the hall, a doorway marked with his name over the words Dressing Room. As the door shuts behind him, he locks it, flinging his towel across the room. “C’mere.” He offers, extending his hand to you. You follow his instructions, sitting next to him on the couch. “You haven’t said a goddamn word, yet your message said fucking everything. Is the pretty girl shy?” He asks, thumb caressing your cheek.

You nod your head, gulping as his touch lights your skin on fire. “I—I was six drinks in when I sent you that message. …I wouldn’t have even remembered unless you replied.” You admit, leaning into his touch.

“C’mon baby, let’s see it.” You raise your eyebrows, inquisitively, wondering what he meant. “Your message! Couldn’t stop thinking about my after-show treat all day, a pretty girl begging to lick up my sweat. Show me.”

You nod to him, your near trembling hands reaching out for his chest. Eddie nods, a wild look in his eyes that nearly has you passing out. A loud exhale leaves your body as your hands reach out and reach contact with his chiseled, tattooed, chest, some sweat beads still lingering. How, you weren’t sure. Your eyes rake across his chest, taking in every tattoo you can, your heartbeat racing faster as you lean in, to finally, finally, rake your tongue up from his stomach to his chest, breathing heavily when the taste of the salt and his pure essence is even better than you imagined.

“Holy shit, she’s a fucking freak.” Eddie mutters, you feel his breath getting shallower under your mouth working on him.

You lean in again, nails digging into his skin as you give another long stripe across his skin, the taste of salt and delicious B.O. on your tongue and you let out a sigh of contentment. You crawl up to his collarbones, having noticed a pool of his sweat there gathered while he was performing.

Your tongue slides into the dip, moaning at the salty taste. Your teeth graze the bone, nibbling a little to leave little tiny bruises. You can’t wait to save the HQ pictures with these marks.

You leave one last long stripe on his treasure trail, having stared at many photos where his pants sit low. You’re nuzzling at it, breathing it in when you can feel him. Holy shit, Eddie Munson’s cock is only inches from your face.

You look up at him, and the back of his palms are connected to his forehead, his cheeks flushed, and his chest heavily breathing. He looks down to meet your gaze, and suddenly he sits up, grabs your face and plants a wet kiss to your lips. Your entire body tenses up, barely able to believe that it's real. Your brain eventually catches up, responding in kind, crawling so your bodies fit closer. Eddie pushes you back lightly before you get too close, having you lie down on his couch.

“Can I, sweetheart?” He asks, moving down to where your cunt has been begging for attention.

“A-are you sure? I don’t mind just sucking you off.”

He chuckles, leaning in for another kiss. “Oh baby, you just earned so much more than that.”

Eddie trails down your body, placing kisses on your exposed neck, lifting your shirt lightly as his hands move to cup your tits. You whimper in kind. “Baby, do you know what it’s like having the most gorgeous woman in the world offer to lick sweat off you? If you just give her a chance? I saw your picture you posted from the concert and fuck, you’re a goddamn smoke show. Those eyes, your gorgeous tits, your thighs, oh my god, baby, your thighs.” He talks through wet kisses trailing down your body until he’s face to face with your jean skirt.

He pulls twice, asking permission. You place your hands on your button to undo it and Eddie playfully swats your hands away. Your skirt is pulled off your body, leaving the fishnet tights and your thoroughly soaked panties. He leans in between your thighs, and your thigh muscles slightly convulse as you feel his hot breath against it. “Shh, haven’t even touched you yet, baby.” He hushes you, his big hands gracing your thighs gently. He leans in and you can’t tell what he’s doing until he starts pulling down, and you notice one of the strings from the tights in his mouth. He can’t seem to pull them off like he wants to, and after a last try he gets frustrated, ripping them off, instead. “There, that’s fucking better.”

You let out a tiny giggle, and then you feel so exposed to him, your lacy panties drenched as he stares between your legs.

If you told yourself this would be happening 24 hours ago you’d call yourself insane…or a silly goose. You were incredibly inebriated.

He flings the fishnets across the room and reaches out to touch your soaked panties, the touch inducing a whimper from you. “You’re soaked, huh, baby?” He murmurs, petting along your panties gingerly. You whimper in response, your hips lifting to meet his delicate touch more firmly. He chuckles, watching your face all scrunched up. “If you want me to touch you, beg for it.”

“Eddie, fucking touch me please, want it so bad.”

“Yeah, you want me to fuck you with my fingers, baby?”

You nod, starting to hopelessly grind your hips up. “So fucking bad, please.”

He smiles, watching the outline of your pussy as you get wetter. Without warning, he hooks his fingers around your waist band and tugs it down, and suddenly you find yourself exposing your pussy to the man who took most of your gallery's storage space on your phone. The way he looks at your pussy is damn divine. His eyes darken with lust, pink lips shine with spit, and his cheeks flush; it makes you want to close your legs in embarrassment.

They stay open, because you’re afraid to move, this must be a dream. This is too fucking good to be real.

“Fuck, I knew your pussy would be pretty, but I didn’t know a pussy could be this fucking gorgeous, look at you.” He rambles, you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or your pussy. He places a thumb gently on your slick, stroking lightly up and down, the sensation sending fire rippling across your skin. He sees your thigh shake the littlest bit. “Feel good?”

It does, but you want so much more from him. “Mmm hmm.” You answer, toes flexing with anticipation.

“Do you need something?” He asks, stroking your lips too lightly, not necessarily getting closer to anything. He just narrowly avoids your clit, watching you squirm as your eyebrows furrow lightly.

“I need more-I need more.” You choke out, your hips desperately rutting against his fingers. “I want you to touch me harder, or move faster, I need more.”

Eddie chuckles, hardly believing how much better you had turned out to be. “You need more? Okay, sure. I can give more.” He leans in to lick a stripe right on your neglected clit, and your hips rut up in surprise, a yelp of pleasure jumping out of your throat. It doesn’t even phase Eddie, now that he's tasted you, he doesn’t want to let go. “How do you taste so fucking good?” He asks, his voice low and husky. “Doesn’t make any fucking sense, this should be a fucking crime.”

You moan, hips grinding up against him, head back in pure ecstasy. “Your sweat shouldn't taste so good. I could bottle it like ketchup and eat it on everything.” You admit, your fingers flexing as a wave of heat runs right through you.

Eddie barely lets up, even as the sentence makes his eyes roll into the back of his head. He pumps one of his digits into you, a ringed finger, no less. Your jaw drops as he fucks into you, the hot pool of pleasure in your stomach starting to form. It's the best this has ever felt by a long shot.

Eddie continues to attack you, adding a second finger as his tongue swirls over your clit repeatedly. “Eddie…fuck…so good.” You can barely talk, your bliss radiating in every extremity. “K…Keep doi’ tha’…”

He stares up at pride at your cocked out expression, panting heavily as you feel yourself on the brink. Out of nowhere Eddie picks up his speed into hyperdrive, and you fucking keel over him, high whines escaping your throat as one hand flies into his hair and the other on the couch’s arm rest to keep you grounded.

The orgasm hits you slowly but leaves your thighs shaking underneath him in its wake. It's the best goddamn orgasm you’ve ever had. Eddie continues to place kisses on your pussy, licking up your cum from your entrance, seemingly quite satisfied with his hard work.

You're breathing heavily, looking up at him desperately through half open eyes. “You have to let me suck your cock, please Ed.”

He gives you a half smirk, you’re barely recovered and you’re begging to suck his dick? Did he win the lottery? “No, I need to feel that perfect pussy wrapped around my cock before I cum from the sounds you’re making, alone.”

You lift your heavy head up in confusion. “Sounds?”

“Have you heard what you sound like when you cum? If I had the patience, I’d be making you cum here, all night, but I fucking don’t. I need to know what the fuck your pussy feels like.” Eddie admits, and his voice sounds desperate.

You let your head fall back down, your legs falling down in unison, spread eagle. You shoot a smirk at him. “What if I told you to beg for it?”

“Hmm?” Eddie asks, and you see a light flicker on in his eyes.

“Beg for my pussy, Eddie. Wanna hear that pretty voice.”

Eddie grins widely, fuck, you just keep getting better. “Please, baby. Please. Let me fuck that tight, perfect pussy of yours. Please let me feel those hot, warm walls fucking pulse around me while I give it to you hard and well, just like she deserves.”

It's more than you could ever hope for, but you find yourself feeling greedy. “Hmm…not desperate enough. You don’t really sound like you want to fuck me all that badly.”

To this Eddie actually whines and groans in frustration. “C’mon, baby, please. Let me fuck you, I will do anything to feel that perfect cunt around my cock.”

Your legs hitch around his hips, pulling him in so his hard on in his jeans meets your bare pussy. You lean into his ear, inhaling his shampoo. “If you let me mark up your neck so I can have all those petty bitches be jealous of me at your next show, then go right ahead.”

“Oh, fuck, deal.” Eddie yanks his belt and his jeans and underwear off in one fell swoop, and the sight of his cock is better than anything you could’ve imagined. He kicks them off smoothly, lining himself up with you again in a matter of minutes. “Shit, you want a condom?” He asks, used to fucking bare back.

“I’m on birth control.” You tell him as he hovers over you.

“Oh that’s a good girl.” He mutters, leaning in to kiss at your neck. “You ready?”

“Fuck me, already, Ed, I’ve been ready since this morning.” Eddie chuckles and he slides himself in, the head of his cock burning only slightly, but feeling fantastic. “Oh, oh my god.”

“Fuck…” He grunts, waiting for your go ahead. “Better than I thought you’d feel. God, is this heaven?”

You giggle in response, your pussy pulsating around him in beat. “Your cock…so fucking full.” Eddie lifts his hips experimentally, and you let out a gasp at the burn and the pure pleasure it sends through you. “More.” You choke out when he doesn’t continue right away.  

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to listen to your request, your arms wrapped around his back as you clutch onto him for dear life. He ruts into you harshly, his hips snapping as it hits your g spot intentionally at every rut.

Your mouth seems like it’s trying to form words, but your head is so foggy by the time you open your mouth, the sentence is nowhere to be found. “Look at this cock drunk little slut.” Eddie laughs, watching your fucked out face.

Your hands tug on him, forcing his chest closer to your mouth. He lets his arms buckle down, slowing his pace down as his face finds refuge in the smell of your hair, while you start sucking lightly on his chest, leaving little bite marks. As you suck on his chest, your pussy sucks him in simultaneously, causing Eddie to moan from both sensations you were giving him.

Eventually, you have purpled your way across his chest, admiring your hard work as he continues moving slowly over you. “Eddie, can you go faster again?”

“Sure, baby. Be a good girl and turn onto your hands and knees.” You listen and turn around, tilting your ass up so it’s easy for him to slide in. “Oh, thank you, baby. Now lift your head up.” You do and he yanks on your hair, pulling a good chunk at the root. “That’s good.” He puts himself back in you, causing a guttural moan to leave your lips.

“Eddie…” You gasp out, the first hit surprisingly harsh against your hips. Not a part of you remotely minds, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as Eddie seemingly fucks you as hard as he can.

“You wanna still blow me, baby? Because I’m about to blow…” Eddie doesn’t have to say another word, you getting up and onto your knees on his animal carpet to wrap your lips around his cock and bob your head. “Use that pretty mouth…”

The feeling of you choking on it, your mouth desperately trying to take his whole length sends him over the edge. Eddie moans loudly, and you do everything you can to memorize this moment for the rest of your life, because nothing will top this.

Your mouth is overloaded with his thick cum, and one last load shoots out of him onto your face as your mouth pops off him, and ok, now nothing will top this.

He’s breathing heavily, staring down at the white shiny substance that made it’s way all over your nose and lips, some dripping down your chin to land on your tits. You start to gather it on your fingers, dipping it onto your tongue like it’s donut frosting. You hum to yourself at the salty taste, looking up at him through your eyelashes for approval.

“Shit, ain’t that a sight.” Eddie mutters, watching as you hopelessly attempt to clean yourself up before his cum goes everywhere. “Here, hold on.” Eddie yanks on a pair of low sweats and grabs something, walking towards the sink in the dressing room. He walks up to you and cleans his mess off your face and your tits, his hands behind the warm cloth gentle. He tosses it to god knows where and grabs one of the waters from his mini fridge.

He hands you the water and watches you as you slowly come back to yourself, the haze in your eyes raising. Your phone buzzes on the table next to the couch, and Eddie picks up the phone to give it to you and you call out to stop him a moment too late.

Eddie raises his eyebrows at your choice of wallpaper, it couldn’t be interpreted as anything other than thirst. The sweat glistening, his hand holding the microphone delicately, his face looking rather passionate about what he was singing about. Damn, that's a good photo, Eddie thinks. “So, did I just check something off your bucket list?” He asks, holding your phone out before tossing it to you.

You get up from your knees on wobbly legs, still needing some water, apparently. “Uh,” you take a sip, wondering how to answer as a wide smile settles on your face. On the one hand, you’re embarrassed. On the other, he had to know how viscerally thirsty you were after him. “No. I just did my bucket list.” You answer, taking another sip of your water as you stand in front of him, still head to toe naked. “Didn’t think I’d get this far.”

Eddie laughs at this, the same genuine laughter you heard from earlier.

You walk around the couch, bending over to locate your skirt.

“Lookin' for something?” Eddie asks, playfully pushing your buttons.

“My skirt…” you answer, peering across the room at this point.

“Can I be honest?” He asks, peering over your shoulder comically as you look around.

“Hmm?”

Eddie’s hands land your bare hips, tugging them backward so his boner hits your ass. “I could go for round 2.”

“Oh, thank fuck.” You whisper, turning around to face him. Eddie guides you, your steps messy as you back up to his vanity, a few brushes and the eyeliner he sports scattered. He lifts you easily onto it, your legs wrapping around his torso, pulling him in. You can’t tell when he removed his sweats, but the head of his cock unexpectedly against your heat already pulls a high whine out of you, sighing in relief. “Put it back in.”

“Fuck, don’t need to ask me twice.” He mumbles, lining himself up.

Your jaw drops as he pushes himself in, watching with a heavy chest as Eddie stares down at the sight of his cock entering your slick, a gulp leaving his mouth. “Holy shit, baby.” He mutters, exhaling as he bottoms out, his eyes closing. “How have I already forgotten how good your pussy is around me?”

Your breathing is shallow, watching with heavy eyelids as Eddie closes his eyes to seemingly gain his composure. “Eddie.” You whimper, your legs around his torso tightening. “You’re the…the hottest person I’ve literally ever seen in my life. Nothing will compare to this.”

You can feel his cock twitch in response, and you flutter around him as if to second it.

“Good.” Eddie grunts out, moving ever so slowly, eliciting a whimper from you. “Nothing better fucking compare, your pussy is too good for that shit.” His tongue sweeps a long lick in the crook of your neck, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as it feels dirty, in the best way. “May I return the favour?”

You’re about to ask when you realize his question is rhetorical, and you feel his teeth start to nibble, bite, and suck hard at your throat. He feels you suck him in as you breathe out little whimpers, the relief of his tongue against your skin followed by more stinging of his teeth working on you was everything, your nails scratching down his back in an involuntary response.

“Eddie…” you moan, head tilted back in ecstasy, nearly colliding with his mirror. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Baby, fuck.” He mutters, his breath hot against your neck. “I wanna mark you up everywhere.” You fucking tighten up in response, drawing a nearly cruel laugh from him. “Yeah? You like that?”

“Uh huh…” You admit, the feeling of his hips slowly drawing in and out of you and his hot breath on your chest becoming too much, but perfect at the same time.

His tongue makes its way further down to your tit, one hand rubbing your sternum desperately as his teeth work expertly on your bud. He’s not too harsh with it, knows the exact amount of pressure to make it hurt in the best fucking way. “So fucking pretty, baby.” He mutters, his hips starting at a faster rate. He lets off your tit with a pop after sucking on it gently, admiring the bruising that’s starting to take shape across your sweaty form.

You can do nothing but cling to him, all coherent thoughts gone the moment he started sucking on your collarbone sharply.

“Got any…any summer plans?” Eddie asks, out of breath. He moves a leg over his shoulder to get a better angle, deeper than before.

You let out a gasp of pleasure, the sound nearly feral. “Y-you.”

Eddie laughs, his ringed hand rough as he grabs at your thigh on his chest. “Oh fuck baby, I’m close again, your pussy is so fucking good.”

“Cum in me.” It almost sounds like you're begging. 

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up to his forehead, his jaw dropping comically as he takes in your request. “Fuck, you sure?”

“Want you to fill me up, Eddie. Please.” You plead, and who is he to deny such a pretty girl?

“Gonna cum with me, pretty girl?” He asks, watching in marvel as you look more and more cocked out. You pull on him, yanking his lips to yours. You kiss him wantonly, deeply, all teeth and tongue as you do your best to express what you cannot with words. You don’t have a big enough vocabulary for the moment, anyhow. Eddie takes the lead and tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, drawing a high whine out of you. “Gonna answer me?”

The edge is so close, an all encompassing heat invading your lower stomach as a palm of his hand toys with one of your nipples. Suddenly you’re aware this could be the last time you ever get the chance, so you sweep one last lick on his chest, lapping at the fresh coat of sweat like it was your first drink of water after a long week in the desert.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna—” He doesn’t even finish his sentence, his hips stuttering as you feel his sticky ropes of cum fill you up so deliciously.

In his haze, his fingers latch to your clit, expertly working on it in small circles to send you over your edge as well, your pussy fluttering perfectly around him.

The smell of sex in his dressing room is evident, the air thick as you both catch your breath. Your leg falls down off his shoulder like a weight is stored in it, your foot landing harshly on the linoleum tiles of the stadium. Your head rests against his chest, eyes closed as you breathe in the stench of his sweat. You need to memorize everything you can, sure you’re about to be escorted back to the main party.

Eddie surprises you, his hands soft as they cup your face, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. His mouth is gentle as he works it against yours, the light taste of pre-show alcohol on his breath. He methodically uses the kiss to distract you as he pulls out, but you still whine desperately into his mouth from the loss. A laugh escapes his lips, and you swallow it, still needing his gentle kiss. He finally separates from you, kissing your forehead as his thumb caresses your cheek.

“So…are you?” He asks, taking in your fucked-out face. Maybe you’ll let him take a post sex selfie if you reject him to remember you by.

If. There’s no way on this earth you would ever reject him, but of course, Eddie doesn’t know you’ve been stalking his Instagram.

“Hmm?” You ask, not a thought in your head for the moment.

“Doing anything this summer?”

You shake your head no, gulping. Eddie saunters around his dressing room, grabbing his sweats and another white cloth. He returns to situate himself between your legs, sporting his sweats, the hot cloth causing you to yelp in surprise.

He laughs quietly, a fond smile on his face as he continues to clean up the mess he left in you. At least, you think it’s fond. “You feel like following a ragtag band of misfits around for the summer?” He asks you, voice soft as he holds your eye contact while his hand moves idly.

“Ragtag?” You ask, remembering their electric energy. They’re rockstars, no doubt about it. There’s not one person who can deny that they earned their spot on the stage.

Eddie breathes another laugh, tossing his cloth to the side. “We are as ragtag as it gets, doll.”

You sigh, searching those gorgeous chocolate brown eyes for any signs he was joking. “I-I will quit my job…are you serious?”

He laughs, caressing your forearm. It occurs to him you’re still naked, so he walks to the couch to gather your shirt and skirt. “Dead serious. I can’t let a face like yours and a pussy like that go very easily.”

“Okay…” you answer, your heartbeat loud in your chest. You were so sure this was just a one-time (two rounds) thing that the idea of him wanting more of you never even occurred to you. It’s just too good to be true, no one is this lucky. “If I quit my job, I can’t afford to pay my own way…”

Eddie smiles, handing you your clothes. “If you don’t want to wear that skirt, I can get you some sweats from the merch table.” He offers, before sitting on the chair a few feet down from you. “Baby, I’m on the cover of Rolling Stone. You’ll be fine.”

Your jaw drops open, staring openly at the man as he watches your facial expression. “I’ll need to go and pack up…”

“Babe.” He stops you, getting up to hold your shoulders with his hands. “I don’t even know your name, yet.”

“Y/N”

He lets out an exhale, fuck, that makes sense. “I didn’t even know your name, and all I know is if I let you go then I will never be able to get you out of my mind. Whatever is stopping you, I can throw some money at it or call someone to get it done. Do you want to stay with me?”

“Yes.” It leaves your body in a sigh of relief, like coming home. Eddie presses a kiss to your forehead; you can feel his lips moving upward into a smile. “Also, sweatpants sound really nice.”

Eddie saunters over to a walkie you hadn’t noticed. In fact, you start to look around his dressing room, noticing a duffle bag by a rack with empty hangers, half opened bottles of water, and his phone sitting faced down at a table nearby. When he asks for your size, you provide it, putting the graphic tee over your head. He plops down on the couch, waving you over to sit right next to him. “Need to text your friend?” He asks, teasing you.

“Actually, can I invite her in? Natalie’s my best friend and she won’t let me live this down if I send her back without bringing her in to introduce you.”

Eddie shrugs, starting to pat his pockets for his phone. You grab it on your way to sit next to him, falling easily into his arm. “Yeah, sure, if you’re ready for her to tease the shit out of you.”

“Are you kidding?” You ask, somewhat giddy. “I’m about to go on twitter after your next show and see dozens of people asking where the hell you got your hickeys. Nothing can bring me down from that right now.”

Eddie chuckles, crossing one leg over the other in an L shape. He plants a kiss on your lips, his tongue sweeping against yours delicately. “Fuck, I’m so glad you fucking DM’ed me.” There’s a knock on the door, your sweatpants from the merch stand are delivered.

“You have no idea how much I keep thinking I’m about to wake up.” You confess, your fingers playing with the light stubble on his chin. “Thank god for cheap stadium beer.” The laugh that escapes him is melodic and gorgeous. “Thank god for cheap stadium beer.”

-

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read comments and replies and tags and as always reblogging is the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinncore @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie smut #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar! eddie munson

[yeosbbm]

Studio Sessions

Smut | MDNI

starring: producer! Hongjoong x producer! Fem reader

genre: lovers reunited, yearning between two, coworkers to lovers/friends to lovers

summary: You helped Hongjoong produce music for Ateez for so long but soon left due to feeling as though they didn’t need you. But you get a call from KQ asking for you to help out with their new comeback to keep Hongjoong from wearing himself out. After reconnecting with him, your dynamic and relationship with him takes a turn.

warnings/prevs: hongjoong is whipped for the reader, reader lowkey denying their own feelings 😭, sweet/dirty talk, pet names, thigh riding, a half cup of cunnilingus, fingering, overstim implied, one moment of impact play, unprotected piv (wrap it up), light dom-sub dynamic.

A/n: in this work I honestly didn’t/barely use “y/n” and changed up the perspectives to experiment and I actually prefer this tbh. I had so much writing this you guys you don’t understand 😭 btw I might remove my mingi fic after reading over it and push it pt.2 will be released tomorrow 🫶🏾

Session #1

“Wait so, she’s coming back.:.to help with producing the comeback.”

Hongjoong is shocked you cared to come back. Starting at the Thanxx era, you produced for KQ alongside Hongjoong, but after a while you questioned your talents or if Ateez even needed you. So you departed from the company after the Deja Vu comeback. It shattered Hongjoong because the best of Ateez was from you two’s hard work.

What also shattered him was his feelings for you. He was in love with you, he knew that it was inappropriate to feel that way about a friend and colleague, but he couldn’t help it. His love and right hand support was gone.

“We realized that this album has put a strain on you and we don’t need anyone to strain themselves mentally or physically before the comeback.” Hongjoong is listening but isn’t as attentive as he usually was during one on one meetings. He was still trying to wrap his head around how you and him are going to be in the same room again after all this time.

“So, we reached out to her and luckily she hasn’t transferred to a new label. She agreed to rejoin KQ.”

Hongjoongs head is finally out the clouds. “This is great thank you sir, I need to prepare and clean my studio and file what we have.” He wanted you to see him in his best condition.

“There’s no need she’s already in the studio.” Fuck.

After speedwalking through the building he finally reaches his studio. Through a cracked door he could see you stood there, running your hand on the sound board. He swallows and decides to come in. “Hey it’s me, I-I didn’t think you’d get here so soon.” He tried to sound as natural as possible.

“It seems like Joongie still can’t manage to keep his studio tidy.” You laugh while running your hand through all the software you haven’t used in forever.

Hongjoong is stuck..why ? because he’s realized from you calling him ‘joongie’ alone, all the memories and feelings for you have flooded back.

You walk towards him and embrace him. You’ve missed him too, and feeling him in real time makes your heart ache in nostalgia and a sea of suppressed feelings. “I’m proud of you guys, Bouncy was a hit I’m shocked you guys even need me back.”

Hongjoongs eyes are set on your face, you’re as pretty as the last time he’s seen you. “I wish you had never left.” Now you were both stuck wordlessly staring at each other.

You snap out of it and back away to clap your hands. “Then let’s get to work shall we!”

Hongjoong’s head is once again, finally out the clouds. “YEA! Let’s make this happen.”

Session #5

You and Hongjoong have now had 5 sessions recording, editing and sorting the music and vocals, and Joong has enjoyed every bit of it. He always puts every ounce of passion, effort and creativity into his music, whether you’re there or not, but something about you being here adds a spark.

You hadn’t came in yet due to errands. Hongjoong had to record Mingi on his own. Mingi finally leaves the booth so him and Hongjoong can listen through.

“So, what do you think about her coming back.” Mingi says twiddling his thumbs.

“All I can say is that I’m glad.” He was more than glad, he was ecstatic to have you by his side again. But, he knew gushing about you to Min might cause a ripple effect.

“So what have you thought about her these days..has she changed…has your view on her changed orr?.”

Hongjoong didn’t know where to start.

On a colleague level, he thinks you’re an amazing part of the team and admires your work ethic. On a romantic level, wants to see you outside the studio, have a home date that ends with him kissing the top of your head and cuddling on your couch. And for the more lustful thoughts, he already thinks you’re pretty, but thinks you’d be prettier while you cry from overstim, he wants to make you feel fireworks while you cum from his mouth, hands, di-

“Earth to Joong damn it.” Mingi is sat laughing and apalled on how caught in his thoughts Joong was. “Sorry sorry I’ve been missing sleep.”

“You’ve been missing her.” Mingi could tell and had a grin of knowing.

“No I haven’t.” He did. He wished you dropped the errands and was sitting by him right now.

“Wowww I didn’t know it was like that Hj.” You walked in only hearing the final two bits of their convo. Fuck.

After Mingi left, you and Joong sat in the studio mixing audios and perfecting songs that had already been finished. For hours you two laugh, bonded and caught up on old times.

Joong had moments where he was so fixated by you. Whether it was your face of focus on your laptop, the way you smiled at him when the mix sounds good, how your body moves when you truly feel the beat.

Soon Hongjoong had left momentarily in order to practice choreo with the members. He told you he’d be back since you wanted to stay behind. When he returned by 1am he expected you to still be awake working hard like old times. But you haven’t worked this hard on a song in so long you fell asleep.

As you slept on the couch, using a blanket he keeps in his studio. Hongjoong could only stare, seeing you so still and peaceful…your most beautiful form.

He dims the lights, fixes the blanket, and takes off your shoes. Normally the change of lighting alone would wake you but the studio was so tranquil you can sleep so deeply. Before Hongjoong starts working on his own,,he kisses your forehead.

Session #10

You can sense that your feelings for Joong are returning during this session. It started with him buying your favorite drink order with a sticky note attached.

“Had to go to a quick photoshoot, wait for me <3 [: ”

Then it’s how when he got there, he put his hands on your shoulders while watching you work. The weight of his hands alone has your stomach filled with rapid butterflies. What really killed you is when he leaned down to whisper a suggestion in your ear for the sample placement.

You shivered and thanked him for telling you, then hid your face by staring directly in the screen, avoiding him possibly seeing you flustered.

The icing is how you began to have eye strain and head was humming from the loud sounds around you. Your senses were becoming dull and all you could do was squint and wince in your chair.

“You good ?” He turns his chair to you concerned. “Yea it’s just my head no worries.” You rub your eyes a bit and stretch your arms before going back to your work.

Then you hear Hongjoong get up from his chair, you assume he needs to grab something but hear him directly behind you, then he rakes his hands through your hair up your scalp and begin massaging and rubbing pattens with his fingers.

The cherry on top was when he leaned forward into your ear again but this time he whispered. “That feel good ?” You nod and have to keep yourself from thinking out of pocket scenarios that involve you and him in bed. You know he’s simply talking about your headache but…Fuck.

Final Session.

“Uuuuh lower the synths here so it doesn’t drown out Yeosangs vocals.”

“Joong if we get rid of the synths here…” You hint at how this could compromise the beat.

“I know the beat will sound empty but I need something to highlight but not drown out Yeosang’s voice since it’s deeper.” He is clearly stressed, you can tell by how he’s holding his head stumped and how tired he looks. Then you have a lightbulb moment.

“Wait….” you turn your laptop so he can see what you mean, “Take the drums but turn on sound opacity.” You can tell Hongjoong isn’t sure on what you’re hinting but you have his upmost confidence.

“And then bring in spare vocals from Jongho’s scrapped harmony.” You intently watch him follow your directions. When he’s finished he plays back the beat. There it was, the best version of the title track.

You two take a break since Joong ordered you both chinese takeout. You’re both on his studio’s couch he’s sitting down while you’re laying on the rest of the space, your legs resting on Hongjoongs.

While taking the plastic off your straw and poking it into your drink, “5 songs done, a title track and 3 more to go.” You’re giggling. “With the rate we’re going making them together. Ateez might have an early comeback.”

“Yea I don’t know what I could’ve done or could do without you, I need you around all the time.” You pause while pushing your food around but get back into tossing it around to your liking.

You notice you and Joong haven’t taken a single bite of each others food. Are you both nervous, nervous about what though…is he going to…He doesn’t mean it like that he sees you as a friend. The thought racks your brain. “Ahh thank you Joong it’s sweet to know you think of me so well.”

She’s dodged me again. Joong thinks to himself holding back letting out a harsh sigh of frustration.

“I- I need your vocals for this sound bite …can we record it now before we wrap up.” Your eyes widened suprised he’d ask you and not maddox or anyone else. “Sure, meet me in the booth.” You walk in first while Joong puts both of your food in a microwave.

You both head in and place on the headphones and adjust the mic to y’all’s height. He handed you lyrics, the melody starts and you sing. Hongjoong is once again enamored hearing you sing and watching you feel the music all through your body. His lips are parted and eyes are on you alone. Once you’re finish your part you look up to see Joong sing his portion but he’s silent and his eyes are stuck on yours.

“I love you.”…..that wasn’t in the script, maybe it’s an adlib you think but Joong was staring as serious as ever. “I’ve loved you for a while and I want you to be mine, I mean this- this isn’t a song Y/n.” Denial is sitting in your chest. “Joong you’re just tired let’s go home.”

Hongjoong is over it. What more could you need to understand his feelings for you, what else could he possibly need to do to spell it out.

Joong pulls you in and kisses you, the kiss starts with soft light pecks but the more you lean into the kiss the more confident he became, soon the kiss became more hungry and daring,, he even introduced his tongue.

Moments later when the kiss finally breaks, Hongjoong is nipping and kissing at your neck, he goes back up to your ear, “If you want to stop just tell me now.”

“Keep going….I want this.” You both kiss again, charged with lust and want. “Go to the couch.” you and him rush to it. He sits first and looks up at you.

“Take your shorts off.” You pull your shoes off and begin sliding your shorts down. “Should I take my shirt off too.” Hongjoong licks his lips and nods, he removes his own shirt so you won’t get shy with the exposure. He pulls you onto his lap.

You both begin kissing again but now his hands are grabbing and pawing your ass, after teasing you to when he sees fit, he grabs your hips and begins to slowly but surely grind your body back and forth across his thigh. He leaned forward so his mouth was against your jawline, his warm breath tickling you, “Do you wanna get off on my thigh pretty?” He asked, and his teeth grazed the last column of your neck.

The shyness is eating you up so all you can do is nod and begin rocking your hips at a moderate pace. Hongjoong grips your hips tighter and begins pressing your farther on his thigh and helping you roll your hips faster. Soon he slides you down on the lower part of his leg

He starts quickly bouncing his leg, the friction of your heat and his thigh becomes overwhelming. “Go ahead love,,let go for me..” You grip his shoulders tighter and rock your hips 2..3….4 more times before you finish on his thigh.

Joong was insatiable though…he needed more he wanted to see more of your expressions. He begins slowly bouncing again. You whimper from the sudden continuation of pressure and quickly cover your own mouth because of the noises you were making.

Joong couldn’t have this though, he takes the hand over your mouth and puts it into his “I need to hear you baby let me listen to how I make you feel”. He purposely bounces his leg and presses you farther again, you moan and pant aloud which leads to a face of satisfaction appearing on him. Moments later you’re undone again creating another mess on his thigh.

Hongjoong gently laid your body on the couch and removed your panties. He sat in awe with the amount of slick coming with them. He groans at the view, looks down and his eyes burn into your heat. He takes his thumb and presses it and makes slow experimental circles. “Joong please move faster.” He makes quicker tight circles and prods your slit with the knuckles of his other fingers. “Is it ok to put one in.” He slowly runs them up and down your slit while you can feel your heartbeat in your clit. “Shit- yes please.”

He leans forward to give you a french kiss and then slowly brings his middle and index finger into your heat. He is caught in a trance moving them in and out, hearing them squelch when inside and watching your hips squirm and breath quicken. He begins reaching them deeper and farther to find the gspot that resides in you, when he pushed and watched your eyes roll back into your head and legs almost shut on his hand he knows.

That’s when he starts pressing and curling his fingers and now you’re at the point of no return. “Cmon baby cum on my fingers.” He presses his thumb against your clit causing a stream of pleasure to shoot through you and begins to finger fuck you at a pace that makes you start propping yourself up on the couch. He removes his thumb and buries his face in your cunt and brings your clit to his mouth, he sucks and nips at it harshly making your voice let out and bounce on the studio walls. A higher pitch “Fuckkk” escapes your mouth while you cum the third time.

Joong tries to get as much of your arousal from your cunt as he can. He feels you get tense and brings an arm to your thigh and squeezes, he paused to say “Just cleaning you up baby.” Soon he takes quick but long licks back to back to get whatever he missed. He lightly kissed your inner thighs and rises back up. He pulls down his shorts and reveals his cock, painfully hard and leaking pre.

You already make your way to his lap attempting to bring it into yourself so you can ride while facing him. Joong stops you however…”Let me take care of you.” He kisses and takes quick lovebites on your neck. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted..let me take care of this pussy, yea ?” You shiver by the confidence that’s filled him. You nod and he raises you up and gently slides his cock up into you.

He starts with shallow pumps, hoping not to hurt you. There’s a small sting but it’s drowned out by how good being stretched by him feels. “h-harder.” You mutter, but Joong needs to fully hear it from you. “Use your words love.” You hide your face in his neck while he carefully rolls his cock into you. “Fuck me harder Joongie.” The nickname has him spiraling. He starts straight bucking his hips up and bringing your hips down onto his cock.

You’re both still facing each other and he stares into your eyes and watches you moan and cry on his dick. He can watch you forever, he speeds up craving to see your eyes flutter and roll back more…to watch you bite your lip and stare into his eyes pleading for release. “Watch how pretty you are down here baby.” He whispers. His forehead is leaning onto yours and you both watch his dick fucks into you. You’re clenching harder than ever making Joong hiss and fuck you faster.

“I- I love you too Joong.” He smiles and hits you with a feverish kiss.

He slaps your ass before he grabs your hips harsher. You’re on the brink, you can’t take it any longer. “Cum for joongie one last time.” He whispers into your ear and then you become undone for the final time. Joong pulls out and jerks his cock until he nuts on your lower stomach.

He lays you down on the couch before he walks to his studio closet. He wipes your face and abdomen down with some semi warm wipes and gives you a pair of his black sweats and hands you some slippers you left here when you first departed. “Here love.” You’re handed an ice cold bottle of juice he left in the studio mini fridge at the beginning of the day.

While putting his shirt back on and raising his shorts, “Wanna grab our food and come to my place for a movie ? ”

“What about the final 3 songs ?” It comes out quiet because the final orgasm knocked your voice out of you.

“We’ve got tomorrow, and the next day and the next day..” he kisses your lips and lands a quick one on the top of your head.

“We’ve got forever if you stay by me.”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #ateez headcanons #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateezhard #hongjoong #idol smau #idol smut #kpop smau #kpop smut #ateez x fem reader #ateez x atiny #ateez x reader #ateez hongjoong #atz hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #hongjoong headcanons #ateez scenarios #hongjoong x y/n #kim hongjoong #atinys #mingi #seonghwa #seonghwa smut #friends to lovers #atz smut

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 2.2

Prettyyyyy

Maybe John's not actually crazy for thinking Hey Jude is to him? “For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool by making his world a little colder.” fool is, in my tin hat world, often a code name for Paul in their songs. And that description is certainly him to a t actually. I wonder why I've never considered it before. 

John: are you happy here, honey? Paul: I ain't happy here my honey, can you take me back? How many songs does Paul write from 1968 on about trying to go back? One day I'm going to make a list and it'll be a long one. 

And thus begins the phase of they just can't help it, can they? But they really wish they could. They make each other so so happy, but they really wish they didn't. It would hurt less that way. 

I love the comparison of Linda's pictures of everyone else and then of John. It just shows that it's not a her problem – that's such a lovely one of George, who Hates Yoko – it's how he feels about her.

John, coming up with every possible weapon to provoke Paul, finally has Yoko sing Paul's part in one of their songs. It really is such a slap in the face. But of course breaking the sanctity of their music is what does it best. And still, all he gets out of him is a look before he walks away. Whatever it is that John wants, I think Paul literally can not give it to him. 

Btw the white album is my favorite, probably. There's just such incredible diversity on it. It's so much fun, you never get tired of it, and it's an excellent display of their genius and versatility. 

He looks like an abandoned puppy. 

What do we think? John says Paul drummed on WDWDITR. Paul says Ringo did. Who is telling the truth?

“It was getting to be where he wanted to do it like that but he couldn't make the break . . .” So John thinks Paul doing his songs by himself means he wants to break the group up? I personally read it as him not wanting to annoy everyone with his bossiness, but that's just my take. 

John talking about how it's him and Yoko now, but before, it was . . .

George needs to send them a cease and desist notice or he'll sue them for breech of character the amount of times they drag him into things he's not a part of. Especially if they're not going to even fucking spare him a glance in reality. Please and thank you, Hare Krishna. 

Paul's epigraph on the two virgins cover. “Battles to prove he was a saint”? What kind of passive aggressive shit is that, Paul?

The eternal question: what happened in India? And does John really not know? Or is he just unwilling to tell what happened to rolling stone?

Somebody please engage with that poor little boy, preferably, you know, his father. Ugh, Cynthia must've had so much anxiety watching that footage, or really any time Julian was with John. And that footage is placed in the doc right after a pic of Paul already being Heather's dad just so naturally. 

But hell, if I've ever seen attention-seeking behavior, this is it. Singing about wanting to die while seductively undressing the closest thing Paul would've had to career competition at the time. 

I'm sorry but it will forever be hilarious to me that when John's singing his part of “I've Got a Feeling” with Yoko it's “soft dream” and then with Paul it's “wet dream”. How John and Yoko tricked everyone into believing they were too horny for each other to control themselves is beyond my imagination. 

On the day John plays their sex tape, “Unusually, Yoko is not present.” LMAO girl same. John: I'm going to play our sex tape for the band tomorrow. Yoko: oh was that tomorrow? Damn, I forgot, I have a thing. 

“Well that's an interesting one.” What did John honestly expect, though? Like I know he wanted Paul to be like, “that's it! Enough is enough I'm taking you home and doing you right!” Or whatever. But what did he honestly, realistically expect?

Always saying the same things at the same time, always on the same page, same word. About everything, it seems, except their relationship. 

Paul: but you won't say anything about it. John: I said what I've been thinking. Paul: Are you still thinking that now? What are you thinking now? John: I'm still thinking about it. Infuriating. Whatever it is John's been thinking, he doesn't want to talk about it in front of cameras. Is it quitting the band? I think it's something more complicated than that but I've no idea what. 

“John, John, joooooohn!” X “Martha my Dear” crossover my beloved. The fact that literally Everyone reacts and tries to get her to stop except Paul is so extremely telling. Yoko: joooooohn! Ringo: He's busy! Yoko: joooooohn! John: Stop that! (And he looks and sounds genuinely pissed) Yoko: joooooohn! Paul: (plinking and pounding away, definitely not thinking thoughts about what he would do right now if he was a girl that will come out of his mouth fifteen years later)

Everyone's trying to figure out the problem with George vs JohnandYoko and Paul's saying “and like with Yoko, they’re real. They mean it.” Linda laughs. “I don't dig that.” You don't, Linda? What about them isn't real to her, I wonder. Does she think they don't really love each other? Or what?

Linda: *Makes fart noise* Go away! Paul: continues to defend them. Neil: everybody cough. See and this is why it sucks that get back was so edited. Because it's important that Paul's defending them here not just going on and on where nobody asked. He knows he's hurt John, and he feels bad enough about it to let him have his mommy with him at all times if that's what he needs.

If what??? Someone needs to force them to finish their damn sentences. Because I feel like he cuts himself off here when (I swear!!) he's about to say what it is that's hurting John so badly.

Anyway, here's where (imo) he's kinda wrong. Where he says "if it came to a push between Yoko and the band, it's Yoko." I think I said it in my get back posts, but I'll say it again. Yeah, if it was Yoko or the band, it's Yoko. But if it's Yoko or Paul filling all the gaps Yoko is currently filling? It's Paul. You know? And I think that's what John wants so badly at this time, actually. Is “a push between Yoko and [Paul]” ending with Paul stepping up for him in some way that he wasn't before, you know?

He really does get it though. John wanting to be as close as possible with Yoko so he doesn't lose her and their connection. Don't forget he does put Linda in his band. He gets it because it was the same with him and John. 

I really do think it's a huge myth that they just never talked about feelings or anything serious. Look at them. This is how they talk in a crowded place with their girlfriends sitting right there. They didn't just get through fifteen years of one of the greatest collaborations in history never actually talking. They talked about deep stuff. And frequently. 

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #linda mccartney #yoko ono #ulm #understanding lennon mccartney

[hyukaslvr]

strong enough | J. Jungkook (2)

<series masterlist

pairing: Jungkook x (f) reader

genre/tags: idol! Jungkook, idol! reader, idiot exes to lovers, slow burn ; k-drama feels (our beloved summer but not at the same time), angst, drama, fluff, smut

warnings: foul/explicit language, alcohol consumption, unhealthy coping mechanisms, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters, panic attacks, reader is harsh towards Jungkook, Jungkook is a meanie!, mentions of old abuse (major trigger warning!!), talk about blood and wounds

w.c: aproxx 10.2k

series summary: you and Jungkook have too many personal problems, during and after your relationship and it keeps getting brought up. you both had tried multiple times to ignore the fact you were both struggling mentally and physically due to your workplace, but you always run back to each other. maybe one day, one day you'll get back to each other, with all your problems handled, maybe not. all you want is for him to shine like he always does, all he wants is you.

a/n at very bottom!

the mirrors of your practice room were foggy, the heat radiating off of your whole groups bodies as you worked your hardest to perfect all the choreographies to your newest album. you worked especially hard since last week, you took a long time to really think about what happened.

“we both know you’re just as messy,” Jungkook spat at you, you bit back your tears and fought your conscience screaming at you to walk away. this isn’t something you would just walk away from, not with your boosting ego.

“this is why we won’t work out, Jungkook, you’re acting like a bitch. fix yourself, i’ll fix me. i thought you were doing better, but it seems like you’re still the dick you were during all our fucking arguments,” you grabbed your belongings and starting walking away from his frozen figure, his words hitting him like a brick in the face. you came out here with him hoping you could talk to him, make him remember the reason why you weren’t communicating things or in contact, but he just proved to you why you shouldn’t have came.

Jungkook sat back down, right where you sat, thinking over things. anytime he would see you, he felt this rage build up inside of him. the rage coming from nowhere, yet appearing whenever your pretty face shows up in his sight. he hates it. he swore to control his anger, the way he acted when things didn’t go his way, but apparently anger management isn’t enough for him.

it’s not that he hates you, he adores you, he loves you. but sometimes, he feels like he can’t stand you. you act like you have everything in your life sorted out, when you don’t, not without him. it might be toxic of him to think of you that way, but it’s true. you know it’s true, deep inside and past your wall that you’ve built up for no one to see behind your cute personality set for the stage. only he knows the real you, at least he thinks, and he knows you have a shit ton of problems just like him.

Jungkook clenches his fists, his knuckles turning white at the thought of how he spoke to you. you don’t deserve that, but at the same time, he rightfully believes you need someone to put you in your place sometimes. but at the same time, you wish someone would knock some sense into Jungkook and make him grow up, even if he grew up way to fast, he still is childish as ever when it comes to talking about things.

you snapped out of your state of thought as one of your members patted your back, telling you to drink up some water before starting again. you wiped your face with a towel before gulping down half of your bottle, tossing it on the floor, and starting up again. thank god that you have therapy tomorrow, you thought as you stand in position once again, waiting for the music to start up.

“he said that to you?” your therapist questioned, jotting down notes quickly so you can speak more about how you felt during that moment. you felt angry, sad, all of the above. out of all people you thought would understand, Jungkook was the one you felt would. yet, he opens his mouth and speaks mean words towards you like he always did when he was struggling, never able to control what he says. but who were you to talk, you did the same things, but you were for sure better at controlling it.

“i thought we were ready to talk about why we actually broke up, i thought i was to say at the least, he for sure wasn’t,” you sighed, picking at your skin around your fresh pedicured nails out of habit. it breaks your heart, seeing him that way, he only acts like that when he’s in a deep place. you can visualize him going home, and immediately changing into work out clothes, beating on his punching back until the chain gives out, his knuckles bleeding with open wounds.

but then again, who’s ever ready to talk about a long relationship ending? at the time, walking to the park in the freezing cold, you felt ready. you walked high and proud as you were side by side with the man whose heart you constantly break. maybe he did have the right to act that way, but it still hurts coming from him. yeah, you had to figure out your shit, but so did he, so him acting like that felt hypocritical.

“darling, no one is ever ready to talk about why relationships end the way they end,” she starts again, it’s was like she was reading your mind as you sat there quietly in thought, “maybe you should of waited, but know you know for sure that now isn’t the right time to get back together, no matter how much you both want and crave it,”

“we’re like the same person, at least i like to think so. i just want him to understand why i do what i do,” it makes your head hurt thinking about reasons why he couldn’t try to understand you at the least, it was the least he could do along with loving you. he was always so unreasonable with mental health.

“just give him some time to think about what he said and how he can fix things over time, time heals everything,” bullshit.

you felt like a mess, sitting in front of the vanity mirror as you get your hair fixed by your stylist, her sweet smile as your eyes reached hers in the mirror comforted you in the slightest, you just had to get through tonight and then you’ll be able to be alone in your dorm room, in the comfort of your own bed.

“feeling anxious?” your leader lets her head fall on your shoulder, smiling at the glitter in your inner corners and poking your cheek in awe, “you’ll be okay, at least you’re pretty and have curly hair,” her finger twirls the curl resting in the small ponytail in your hair, letting it boing back to place.

once your stylist was done, she spun your chair to face your leader, who bent down to fix the curls in your face, cupping your cheeks once she was done and smiling down at you, “i just wish to be home right now,” you sigh, practically melting into her hold and she squishes your cheeks in response. you wanted to cry, the amount of promotions you had this week drained every last bit of emotion out of you.

“just put a smile on that frowny face of yours, get out there and look as cute as you always do during fansigning, we’re gonna have a party tonight!” you groan in response, she lets go of your face to cross her arms across her chest, noticing your negative response to the idea of partying, “what’s wrong with getting wasted after all these promotions? it’s not like anyone else will be there,”

that was a lie, you sat in a corner of your shared house with group after group showing up and partying, while you just wanted to be in your bed. maybe if you get drunk enough, you can dance with a random and have some fun tonight, you thought while staring at your other members already claiming other males to dance with. the lights flashing making your head hurt, as you stood up to get another glass of your drink.

there was yelling going on around you, but you chose to ignore it and downed half of your cup before heading towards your room, planning on locking your door and drowning all the noise of the party out with music. but your heart and feet stopped when hollers from the front door caught your attention. the person who took feet away from you, you wished to disappear out of his sight. no, it wasn’t Jungkook, right about now you wished it was instead of the monster who stood close in front of you, but far away at the same time

Choi Jaehyun, also known as the dick that cheated on you, also known as the abusive alcoholic you had dated, also known as the reason for the way you were now. one little glance towards his way made you gag, in shock and disbelief that he would dare to even show up here. the first thing he did was grab a beer, like he always did at his house after hitting you like you were the cause of all his problems.

it makes you ache, your heart especially knowing you loved his shit ass self at one point, thinking that he would change if you just covered up all the marks he would leave on you. after that relationship was over, your leader swore at you to never get back into another relationship until you got over him. you were over him, to say the least, but not over the way he made you feel. he made you feel worthless, ungrateful, unworthy, like a weakling.

“you think you deserve to be out there in the spotlight, like the bitch you are?” he spat in your face, his hands close to your face making you feel like something was coming towards you.

“baby, please just sit down and listen to me-” another smack hit your cheek, the tingling burned and made you call out in a cry, “jaehyun! please, stop and just have a drink-” you gasped out, the tears burned your eyes but slightly cooled the heat of your cheek.

“drink some more, is that what you fucking what? you want me more drunk so you can run away again?” he grabs your cheek hard, pulling it as he backed you against the cold of the refrigerator. you tried to focus on the loud humming coming from the damn thing, instead of the burning sensation of his hand pinching at the same place he just whacked you, “you’ll never be able to get away from me, not again, baby,”

the tears flowed from your cheeks, his body now facing you as your memory fades away to a new one standing infront of you currently. the look of his face, like he didn’t expect you to be at your own groups party, what a fucking idiot. before he could walk towards you, you grabbed your drink and stormed past him, ignoring the ringing affect his call of your name had to your ears. you told yourself, that where ever he was, you weren’t going to be, never, ever again.

you left the house in nothing but a thin jacket, you walked until your legs gave up on you. once you sat down, not knowing where you were or where your legs were walking you to, you looked up at the dark sky. the lights of the stars twinkling above you, giving you some comfort of the unbearable memories you had. you wished you could just deleted everything, every moment you had that with sick man. but it stays with you, like a parasite eating away at your skin.

you sniffled as you calmed down, whipped out your phone to dial someone, anyone to come get you and to be in the comfort of someone’s arms. you scrolled and scrolled, hoping to see someone’s name that warmed your heart at the sight of it. your eyes scoped around your contacts, hoping for anyone’s name to pop up.

Park Jimin. you quickly dialed his number, knowing he would pick up in a heart beat, like he always did for you.

“are you sure you’ll be okay on the couch? my bed is just as comfortable, even more at that,” he spoke as softly as you remembered, he tucked you into the couch and making sure you were comfortable enough to sleep away your puffy eyes.

“i’ll be okay out here, Jimin, i promise,” Jimin was the only other member, besides Hoseok, who knew about you and Jungkook. he allowed you to come over time to time when ever you and Jungkook would have problems, problems that were always better than what Jaehyun ever put you through. you believe that why you always went back to him, back to the comfort of his aura because he truly loved you. he loved every bit of you, but he couldn’t handle every bit of you.

Jungkook would never, you thought as you rolled over, facing the back of the couch as Jimin accepted the fact you chose the couch over his bed and went upstairs to get some sleep for himself. Jungkook had his angry issues, but he would never show abusive tendencies towards you, no matter how mad he was. he never raised a hand towards your way, he never laid a finger on you. it took you awhile to trust him, but that trust never once left even after you left him multiple times. but, to never bring up the memories that made you feel like a burden, you never once mentioned your past relationship, no matter how many times Jungkook would beg to talk about your exes.

“you should start writing in your journal again, _____” Jimin spoke over his shoulder, his hands working on making your eggs the way you loved them, “i know that helped you at times like this, even if i don’t know what actually happened for you to end up 10 minutes away from my place,”

“it’s better not to talk about it, for my sake,” he nodded in agreement, letting you know he won’t budge any information out of you since he knows the way you looked when he picked you up from the random street you sat at. you always wanted to tell him about your past, what changed you into the mess you are now and why you can’t seem to stay stable at any current time of the year. just because it happened years ago, doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect you to talk about it, even if you trusted someone with your life, “you know what? that might be a good idea,” you spoke up after the minute of slience between you both.

you’ll write about everything bothering you, maybe you’ll be able to pick at the pieces broken inside of you to figure out how to handle all of your problems with Jungkook, but mainly yourself. you always need to put yourself first, your therapist would tell you, no matter how badly the other person is struggling, and you stood by that.

you never wanted to leave Jungkook, you never wanted him to feel like he wasn’t good enough for you love. you wanted him to feel like he was on the top of the world with you, to make him feel important and loved the way he should. what he doesn’t know, is that he was the reason you wanted to get better. he always told you, that you deserved everything heading towards you that was good. if the good was getting better and becoming healthy, hell yeah, you deserved that shit like it was a grammy.

so once you got back to the dorms, letting all your members and your worried leader know that you were at a good friends house after the party, you headed to your room with a fresh new notebook, ready to jot down all your feelings and thoughts that you let eat you alive everyday.

to my past, fuck you, sincerely. you deserve nothing, you don’t deserve to take over my life. i will get rid of you, i will get better, i deserve to be happy, i deserve to become a butterfly instead of moth. moths are pretty, but trust, i will be a beautiful monarch.

cheesy, you know that, but it’s true. so true that you continue to write until your hand cramps around your pen. you will get better, it just takes time, but time definitely does not heal everything.

a/n: i low-key hate writing angst, but here we are! this is a reminder that you are not alone if you’ve ever went through abuse or trauma with abuse, you will always have people out there for you and you have help too. there are hotlines on top of hotlines, please don’t be afraid to speak up about it, no matter what. i love you all, and never feel like you can’t reach out to talk to me, dm me about anything! you are all worthy and beautiful and deserve the best🩷. here are some hotlines: 1, 2, 3

taglist: @loumin908 @heartjiminie @cuntessaiii @parkinglot-nights @minsoa97kor @jkgirlfr @lavendersugarplum @gaebestie @whoa-jo @kp0pficdump @yunholuv @skzthinker @shwkoqp18 @veemegatron @joonsproperty @jk97bam @dna-black-and-blue

COMMENT TO BE ON TAGLIST!

#hyukaslvr #writers on tumblr #kpop fyp #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #i love jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook bts #bts x you #bts x reader #bts jungguk #bts smut #bts army #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts #kpop writers #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #kpop fanfics #kpop fanfic

[ladykailitha]

Sweet Home Indiana

You guys are getting an absolute feast this week. Two chapters on regular posting days, the twenty snippets you got on WIP Wednesday, this, and of course more Across a Crowded Room tomorrow.

Enjoy!

Based off a post I saw on here (and didn't save for some reason) about the legal tangles gay people had to go through when gay marriage was federally legalized because a lot of them married different people in different states because their marriage in California wasn't legal in the other states and just never bother to get a divorce.

And my brain let's Steddify this shit Sweet Home Alabama style!

So here we go:

Eddie and Steve got married in Boston when Massachusetts made gay marriage legal. But they broke up when Eddie went to California with his band.

Cue Eddie going around and having a couple of really short marriages in different states. Tommy in New York for three months when the band was in New York recording an album. Billy in Hawaii for two weeks while Eddie was there on vacation.

Neither of them really mattered or were serious. Because they were only legal in the state they were performed in so Eddie didn't think anything about it.

Fast forward to a decade later, gay marriage is legalized across the country. Corroded Coffin has broken up and Eddie has a job as a tattoo artist.

Eddie goes to get a marriage license in Seattle where he's been living for the past five years. And is denied on the account he's a polygamist. He's still married to three different men in three different states.

Fuck.

His fiancee Chrissy is a legal assistant at a law firm so she has her bosses draw up annulments for Eddie's three marriages and has them sent out to all three of Eddie's exes.

Including Steve.

When Steve gets his papers, he's pissed. He hunts down Eddie's number and calls. Tells him that he can do the proper thing and tell him to his face he wants a divorce. None of this annulment bullshit like their relationship didn't matter. But until then he can fuck off.

Now Eddie's frantic. Because the reason why he and Chrissy were getting married in the first place is that her student visa ended in May and her work visa has been delayed three times. They have to get married otherwise she'll be deported. And no just a little across the border to Canada either, she's from Barbados.

He tells her the truth about Steve and how they were actually married for almost two years before Eddie left. They had been living in their home town of Hawkins where their marriage wasn't legal any way, but meant something to them.

Chrissy is upset he didn't tell her this sooner, because yeah, that's whole other kettle of fish. So she has her bosses draft a divorce decree and words it a whole lot nicer than the legalese of the annulment.

Eddie packs his bags heads to back to Hawkins and back to Steve. He has one week to convince Steve to sign the divorce papers.

He gets into to town and finds that Steve is the proud owner of the best bakery in town. And the best selling item is the chunky mint brownies Steve made just for Eddie when they first got together. Eddie gets a little sentimental about it, and Steve stubbornly refuses to sign the papers.

They go back and forth for a few days. They tumble into bed and Eddie wakes up, he finds Steve gone and the papers signed.

Only now that Steve has signed them, he doesn't want that anymore. So he breaks down crying and sobbing. He calls Chrissy and now Chrissy is as distraught as he is.

After they hang up Chrissy calls the bakery and Robin answers. Chrissy really needs to speak to Steve.

Robin tells her Steve can't come to the phone because he is covered in flour and can't because he'll get it messy. Chrissy asks if she calls his cell phone if Robin could hold it up to his ear, because she really needs to talk to him. But Robin refuses to budge. She banned Steve from having a cell phone around their giant stand mixer because he has lost three of them to the beast.

Robin offers to pass long the message, though. And Chrissy has to be content with that. She explains who she is and why Eddie needed the divorce. She tells Robin about Eddie's breakdown that morning and how he really didn't want to divorce Steve.

Robin and her get to talking about their best friends, missed connections and themselves.

While the girls are talking Eddie is having another freak out because he put the envelope containing the divorce papers in the mail box but realized he forgot to sign them himself. He needs to get them back so he can sign them, but he's afraid of getting arrested for tampering a federal post box trying to get the papers back.

He's near hysterics when Nancy finds him. She's in town visiting her family. And she helps him get the papers back by talking to the post office and they open the box and he gets them back.

She takes him to lunch to calm his clearly frazzled nerves. He tells her everything. And she tells him that while Eddie was in New York, Steve had gone to see him and when he saw how much bigger and better the big city was, Steve decided if he was going to win Eddie back, he had to make something of himself. And thus began the bakery. He almost had enough to fly to Seattle and woo Eddie. But then this happened.

Now Eddie is really stricken. He wants Steve so bad, but Chrissy is out of options.

Nancy gives his arm a squeeze and Eddie heads back to the hotel he'd been staying at.

He finally looks at his phone and sees a lot of messages and texts from Chrissy begging him not mail the divorce papers yet, she has a plan. Cue Eddie having a final breakdown in his hotel room, sobbing and wrung out.

There is a knock on his door and Eddie is confused the only person who knew his hotel and room number was Chrissy and she's in Seattle. But he gets up to answer and suddenly has an armful of Steve Harrington. Who is also a sobbing wreck.

After both of them calm down, Steve tells him he only signed the papers because he wanted Eddie to be happy. And if that meant being divorced from him, he'd do it.

But Eddie's isn't happy. He's sad and hurt and lonely. Steve is too.

They fall asleep in each other's arms, placing their trust in their best friends.

The next morning they are woken up by Robin and surprise surprise, Chrissy.

They explained that since gay marriage is legal everywhere now, Robin is going to marry Chrissy. And she'll swap places with Eddie. She'll go back to Seattle with Chrissy and Eddie can stay here with Steve.

It's perfect.

They get a marriage license and walked down the courthouse where Eddie and Steve are their witnesses. While the judge is talking, Steve pulls out Eddie's old ring. The one he returned to Steve when he moved out to be with his band.

He slips it back on Eddie's ring finger where it belongs. They kiss at the same time Chrissy and Robin do.

A couple years later Chrissy becomes a lawyer and her and Robin move back to Hawkins where Eddie has opened his own tattoo parlor, right next to Steve's bakery.

And they all live happily ever after.

Permanent Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes

[mdpplgtz03]

Will you be my valentine Daddy?

Pairing: CEO!Ari x Wife Reader x Daughter! Marie Levinson

Summary: Ari has a new Valentine's this year

Warnings: None. Pure love. Fluff. Cute.

Author's note: Happy Valentine's Day!! 💕 Thought on making a quick (and cute) one for today. I made Marie's drawing, since I thought it would be cute to see it.

No proofread. All mistakes my own. Let me know your thoughts about this after reading. Enjoy!!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“More pink mommy. Please.”

Your beautiful four-year old, Marie, demands nicely while focusing on her creation. Smiling, you carefully make more pink hearts with glitter on her drawing, mentally giggling at her determination on finishing it.

It’s currently 10:00 PM , and although she tends to be sleeping at this hour, you decided to let her stay awake a bit more since she insisted on it. And everything is because she wants to surprise her Daddy, AKA your husband, Ari.

Now for being four-years old she is very confident and determinated on getting something done (wanting too). She got that from your lover, ha. But also like him, when it comes to special people that she loves, she stops the world to give them everything.

And Ari Levinson can be the most exigent and cold CEO when it comes to work, but all that fades when he steps inside his house. His home. He is not only the best, most-caring lover that you are grateful to call husband (and grateful to everyday wake up in his arms), but the best Dad for Marie.

“Dis’ for daddy!” She proudly exclaims, showing you the drawing, which consists of small pink glitter hearts that fill the piece of paper and a big pink hand-painted heart that has inside two small drawings. One is Ari, the other is her. How cute.

“Aww baby, it’s beautiful! Daddy will love it” You encourage her as you take a pen a write on the paper a phrase that she asked you to write. But truth is, your husband will indeed love it. Both have a small album filled with nothing more than the drawings and painting your daughter made for you and him.

Marie jumps excited, clapping her hands together, “yay!” She picks the drawing and writes her name on it too. Her handwriting a bit messy, since she is still learning.

“What’s all this noise?” A masculine voice interrupts the short celebration.

“Daddy, no!” Your little girl exclaims running to prevent of your husband coming inside the room. Ari is standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, smiling.

“Close your eyes Daddy!” Marie says

“Okay! Okay! They are closed.” Ari says lowering to his daughters height, so she can see that her daddy is not lying.

She turns to you and smiles to which you nod. She takes the drawing and save it under her pillow. You make a mental note to take it out of there and place it on her pink nightstand, or else tomorrow morning the bed will be filled with pink glitter.

“You open now!” She approaches Ari, who opens his eyes and picks Marie up, tickling her with his beard.

“Daddy no! Tickles! Daddy!” She laughs and giggles. Ari smiles and stops, kissing her forehead gently. Marie lays her head on Ari’s chest as you approach.

“Ready to go to sleep baby?” You ask her while moving strands of her hair out of her face. Marie nods.

“What was all that noise about? What were you two doing huh?” Your husband asks curious as he lays in bed. Cuddling you from behind, sweetly kissing your neck. Marie fell asleep easily and after you and Ari’s nighttime routine (And after putting your daughter’s drawing on her nightstand) you two finally managed to get inside the bed.

You giggle, “Something that Marie wanted to do for you. But you will have to wait for tomorrow”

Ari shakes his head. “That girl, she’s sassy”

“She got that from you. Told you” You tease him.

He raises his eyebrows, “I’m not–”

But you quickly turn around, facing him and stops him from finishing.

He laughs. “Okay, yeah, you are right.”

You smile victoriously and kiss him briefly on the lips. Snuggling your head on his chest.

“Goodnight handsome” You close your eyes

“Goodnight sweetheart” He kisses the top of your head.

Both drift to sleep.

The sunlight makes presence on your room. You hear the door opening, small steps making presence. You open your eyes and see Marie, about to wake you up. You smile at her, she has Ari’s gift in hand. You nod and pick her up, placing her in the middle, between you and Ari. At the feeling of movement, Ari slowly opens his eyes and smiles when he sees his daughter.

“Morning babygirl. What are you doing here?” He moves up, enough to have a better view at his daughter.

Marie smiles and hands him the gift. “Happy Vaeentine’s Day, Daddy!” She exclaims and kiss his cheek. Ari blushes and hugs her. Seeing the drawing.

“Will you be my vaeentine’s?” She asks him.

Ari takes a moment to look at the drawing and smiles. It’s clearly that you were the one who wrote that prase on the drawing, but the fact that her daughter made it for him, melt his heart. He couldn’t have asked for a better family than Marie and you.

You know he won’t stop smiling for a couple of months. You mentally chuckle at that.

Your husbands look at you, then back to his little girl and nods, placing the drawing on his bedside table to pick her little girl and tickle her with kisses.

“Daddy!”

“Yes babygirl, I will be your valentine today. Today and always. Daddy loves you.”

Soon, the room is filled with giggles, tickles and love. Lots of love.

(Marie's drawing)

#ari levinson #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson imagine #ari levinson fic #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson fanfic #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson au #ari levinson fluff #ari levinson x female reader #CEO Ari Levinson #ari levinson x you #chris evans fanfiction #chrisevans #chris evans fan fic #chris evans character fanfiction

[ayacokeandpepsi]

Pt. 2 of Fboy! Enhypen w/n1ki as requested from poll results!

Cw:, Japanese (translated) (not that much-mostly in English) -it will be in in different color and with English meaning next to it

Word count: a lot omg sorry for yapping also not proofread cause I wrote this on my tiny ass iPhone SE 😭

This is part 1 of the Niki one, part 2 coming soon

Background: you are collaborating with Enhypen for a record/album and you are an idol who is a rapper/singer. Reader speaks Japanese slightly.

You first learned of the new and hot boy group Enhypen when their company reached out to you in hope for a collaboration, so you did your research and found them to be interesting.

You first met them when you did a collab for a TikTok dance video to one of your songs that was trending, with the star dancer of the group, Niki.

He seemed weird to you because he didn’t make that much eye contact when speaking to you, but he was staring when he thought you were looking away. He also was a bit harsh when you did the dance to Sweet Venom for the other video, which was hard for you to follow since the choreography was not something you were used to.

“No no,” he said slightly annoyed when trying to teach you the movements. You let out a nervous laugh, getting annoyed at him. “No you’re not doing it right,” he sighed, he came up from behind you and grabbed your wrist and moved it the way it was supposed to go, surprising you and making you red.

He also seemed to not have noticed when he did that because after a few seconds his eyes widened and let go of your wrist, looking away.

Overall, the first meeting with him was awkward and uncomfortable.

———————-

You found yourself that evening on their TikTok account, watching the video of you two dancing over and over again. You were annoyed at how cocky he was in the videos, making it seem like he was effortlessly perfect to the world.

You scoffed. But for some reason, you couldn’t take your eyes off his. You would be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive and charismatic. You hated that he was. It made him more annoying to you, a feeling unfamiliar to you. And you didn’t like it.

You looked at the comments. Wow Niki is so good at dancing. Niki is so handsomeeee. You rolled your eyes.

You then saw some even worse comments. Who is this girl? Wow Niki is such a good person for making a video with a fan! A fan?! These Korean fans did not know you as well as Enhypen, but you expected them to know you enough to know you aren’t some fan. That was enough to tap on the stupid clock app icon and delete it, not caring about your media profile.

You harshly turned off your phone along with the lights and slept.

Tomorrow was when you were supposed to do some recording with them for the first song in the album.

———-

You wake up to a bunch of notifications from Instagram on your posts, full of noooo why did she delete her TikTok, and what if they are dating? Comments. You cursed, knowing your manager would be mad not letting him know if advance to deleting a social media profile.

You got out of your hotel bed sheets, reaching your arms up and letting out a sigh.

You were only in Seoul for a few months, but still nervous since your Korean is limited.

Luckily you can speak Japanese slightly better, even though you wished it was another member who could speak it, it would still be helpful even if it was the one you didn’t like.

Luckily your manager was fluent in Korean as well as English and Mandarin, for when you go on tours to other countries.

You decided to pick up Japanese a few years ago so you could understand AKB48 songs when you were young, not really having any other use for it where you lived, though you still continued to learn.

———

You made your bed and opened the hotel blinds, the weather was cloudy and rainy today it seemed. You closed them again before changing into your outfit of the day, a basic training outfit, sweatpants with an off the shoulder crop sweater and Air Force ones.

———-

When you got to the studio, only the staff were there, soon to leave once the members got here. You liked to be early. Fashionably early, you like to tell yourself to make it sound cool.

You played around with the beats and samples on the studio devices, having your headphones in and being into it, so you were surprised when the members walked in.

You already met them each, not individually except Niki. You said your hellos and greetings before they asked to listen to what you were working on.

You obliged because they genuinely seemed interested, not liking your own work and being self critical though, so it took some convincing of them.

They all seemed to really like it, each of them adding on pieces to grow on the song. It must have been a few hours, and everyone seemed to grow hungry and packed up and said their goodbyes. Niki still acted a bit weird, he was closely monitoring you when you couldn’t see him, barely praising you and scoffing when you said “I don’t want the choreography to be a lot “ followed by nervous laughter from you.

Jungwon got your number and added it to a group chat with all of the members.

(Group chat)

Jungwon: thank you for meeting with us y/n!

Jake: yes good work everyone.

You: yes good job all

You: I was hoping if we could make the choreography easy since you guys are really advanced?

Heeseung: okay, we can help you as well

Jake: yeah ^

Niki: maybe if you just tried it would be less difficult

Jay: Niki be nice

—————

Niki scoffed reading his phone. Why should HE have to go easy on you because you didn’t know how to dance? You just had to show off your producing skills, and act like it was terrible on top of that! He was beyond annoyed.

——-

(Private message)

Jake: hey I’m sorry about Niki he can be a little rude at first but he’s not like this when you get to know him.

You: it’s nothing haha

———-

The next day, you came in late to the recording studio because of an accident near your route. You walked into the massive building, iced coffee in hand and your purse in the other, hurriedly walking through the halls and to the elevator.

You weren’t focused on where you were going, your glasses fell down a little too low from the bridge of your nose, making it hard to see.

You waited shortly for the elevator doors to open, not looking before entering and hitting someone.

You look up to see none other than Niki, looking concerned, you just noticed how you spilled your coffee on your top, your white top, exposing your black bra underneath.

Niki stuttered “you-um,” his eyes looked toward the ceiling. You quickly set your cup on the floor with your purse, thankfulling remebering you had a spare top in it.

You had an idea, realizing that he already saw you basically in your bra, so you didn’t care. You told him to press the close door button and quickly unbuttoned your soaked top, taking it off.

His face grew red, his words were just stutters “what are you-whoa! But,” he stammered, looking at everything but you.

You quickly pulled out the small but clean black tank top out of your purse and put it on.

“How could you just-“ he says, still not able to look at you in the eye. “Did you have a better idea?” You remark. “It’s either you see me with a bra or every staff and other member would see me after I get off this elevator.” You reason.

He swallowed. “Are you, like, good now?” He asks. You look at his eyes, his pupils were dilated fully, it was like all the annoying things he did just melted away.

He scoffed. “I’ll take that as a yes then”. The elevator doors opened, you explained to some concerned staff that you just spilled your coffee, cleaning it up. You were so glad no cameras were in that elevator.

———

Niki was quiet the entire day, his face red when you spoke with him, looking away from you.

By the time the sky was black and the city lights were shining, everyone was leaving.

You got up to leave, but tripped over a cord on the floor which caused your purse to fall and all of your items in it scatter.

Heeseung, Niki and Sunghoon were walking out when the saw this and offered to help but Niki suggested they go on and he would help you.

Niki kneeled down on the floor and helped you pick up some items. His eyes glazed over a set of Kanji flash cards and quickly grabbed them.

You didn’t notice until he stopped moving. You say his hand. “What’s wrong?” You asked. “You speak Japanese?” He asked.

“Not well,” you responded shamefully.

“Kawaii ne,” cute, isn’t it he mumbled as he teased.

You glared at him. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“ いいえ　いいえ、no no I don’t mean to make fun of you,” he giggled

You sighed. “Thank you for helping me pick up my stuff,” you said genuinely.

He helped you up, his hand was so much bigger than yours. You scoffed in your mind.

The two of you walked into the elevator, silent and awkward.

“You know, I don’t have a problem with you,” he confessed, his lips curling into a soft smirk.

Your eyes widened but quickly looked away. “Well I mean that’s good-we have to work together so-“ he grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer.

“That’s not what I mean,” he said playfully.

“Gosh you’re so cute,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes and looked away, but he grabbed your chin and made you look at him.

“Now you’re the one who can’t look at my eyes,” he whispered with a smile

The elevator dinged before opening, he softly let you go and walked you to your car before leaving to the groups’ van, winking at you.

—————

You took a nap on the ride to your new hotel, which was farther away.

You awoke when your manager opened the door.

This hotel was small, but discreet and comfortable. Probably for celebrities not wanting to be noticed.

You checked into your room, it was at the top floor, and your room was big, there was a bath and a separate shower, the bed was king size and you had your own kitchen.

You opened the fridge to see a note saying “thank you for staying with us, we offer a spa on this floor, to the right of the laundry room. There are massages, nail artists and acupuncture available. If you would like to visit: please text this number xxx xxx xxxx and select which time you will be visiting.”

Your eyes lit up at the thought of a massage and some new nails, your current ones looking desperate.

You texted the number listed and made an appointment for an hour later.

—-

You dressed in the hotel provided lounge clothings that they said to wear to the spa, and locked your room before heading there.

——-

You felt so relaxed, your back feeling better and your nails looking pretty. They were simple, medium long almond nails in the shade of pink that makes your skin look glowing, with some cat eye polish.

You thanked and tipped the workers and left the spa, looking at your phone to take a pic of your nails to send to your friend, not paying attention to your surroundings, also partly because you had a little to drink with the complementary champagne they offered at the spa.

You slightly stumbled before bumping into someone’s shoulder, causing you to fall over.

They quickly grabbed our wrist, not letting you fall.

You apologized and thanked them before looking up and seeing …. Niki??

“What are you doing here??”

“You need to watch where you’re going, silly girl,” he teases

“Did your manager not tell you that we would be with you in the hotel since we are all going to a new set location tomorrow?” He asks you, feeling cocky

“No, you can let go of me now thank you” you reply.

He looks at your hand and smirks. “Your fingers are so small, are these new?” He points to your nails.

“Yeah” you whisper

“きれいですね。” it’s pretty isn’t it. He traces your hand.

“Shut up” you roll your eyes.

“I mean it, they are pretty,” his gaze softens as his eyes meet yours

He let’s go of your hand. “You are so clumsy, you know that?” He scolds you

“Yeah well it’s not my fault the champagne was so good” you sigh

“Oh?” He smirks.

You scoff. “Leave me alone, silly boy” you tease back at him.

He grabs your other hand this time. “Hey, wait,” he says softly.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to my room to sleep” you reply casually

“Sleep? It’s so early though, and you need to brush your teeth after drinking” he whines

You start walking, and he follows you.

“I’m bored, stay with me” he pleas

“Why don’t you go be bored with your members?” You suggest dismissively.

“Because none of the members are cute~” he teases in a fake voice, which causes you to laugh. He smiles softly and locks his eyes with yours. Your eyes soften.

“Thank you for helping me pick up my shit today,” you whisper, not breaking eye contact.

He smiles. “It’s nothing.”

End<3 part 2 coming soon

—————-

#Spotify #niki smut #riki x reader #niki nishimura #enhypen hard thoughts #enha smut #enhypen smut

[alonetimelover]

pairing: Harry Styles x singer!reader (fc: Rihanna)

summary: “Well-known people usually don’t have the privilege to protect their private life. It’s impressive for how long you did it,”

a/n: this one has been in my drafts for months. i just found it and decided to post it before writing for scientist!reader. enjoy!

masterlist

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harryupdates

liked by ynupdates, harryshoee and 15 291 others

harryupdates Celebrating YN's half-time performance at tonight's Super Bowll here's a throwback to 2013 MTV awards.

view all 3 402 comments

hArrysbtch good ol' days when Harry was eating oranges during award shows

ynupdates i still think they look super cute together

harrysfan and then harry made 1D boys sing fourfive seconds on radio 1??? he had a big crush on her

ynsfan01 yn later that night during the interview? 'they had very tasty fruits during performances' girl...

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harrysno1fan

liked by harryupdates, harrysmoustache and 9 201 others

harrysno1fan Harry arriving in Glendale, Arizona a few hours ago. what the hell is he doing in the US???? wasn't he literally wasted at the BRITs like 5 hours ago??? isn't he supposed to be in Australia like tomorrow???

view all 2 291 comments

harryupdates interesting

harryfootball is he there for super bowl???

⤷ harrysbtch i don't think he knows much about American football, most like something to do with the half time show

⤷ harrysmoustache are you saying that he's going to be YN's surprise guest????? im gonna pass out

harryfan82 he's gonna boil in those clothes xd

ynupdates i hope he's there for the half time show

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harryandyn

liked by ynupdates, harryshoee and 3 201 others

harryandyn remember when this photo resurfaced a few years ago? and nobody said it was a photoshop and no one knew about it being real? I stand by my words then - they're closer than we think. mark my words people

view all 792 comments

ynupdates well, that would be a real power couple

harryupdates a collab would be a dream

hArrysbtch harry did admit having a crush on yn for years, maybe he acted on it?

ynsfan101 you all know that yn has a baby??

⤷ ynsmybestie of course, but she never said who the father is (she doesn't have to, her choice) so it gives you a place to speculate - respectfully!!!

⤷ ynshands babes, yn is super private, so is harry... it could work

⤷ ynsfan101 all im saying its strange not having seen them once together outside of award shows

⤷ ynsmybestie years in the industry teach you that

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ynupdates

liked by ynsmybestie, harryupdates and 37 201 others

ynupdates YN DURING THE HALFTIME SHOW! SHE IS PREGNANT WITH HER SECOND CHILD !!! the moment they showed I screamed so loud at the TV...

view all 12 201 comments

ynsmybestie OMFGAKWSK i am so happy for her

ynsmymama yas, im gonna have another sibling 💀

ynshands guys, we're not getting this album, like ever

ynsnextalbum hi guys, I'm not coming till 2040

harrysmoustache did you guys saw harry during the performance???????

⤷ hArrysbtch they're so together, no way

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harryupdates

liked by ynupdates, harrysmoustache and 21 301 others

harryupdates HARRY AT THE SUPER BOWL !!! Harry attended half time show (YN's performance) and then left with her team...

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ynupdates he looks very comfy 💀

hArrysbtch they're SOOOOO together, no other way

harrysmoustache power couple

ynsmybestie i knew yn had good taste in man

hArrysbtch wait

hArrysbtch wooow

hArrysbtch DOES IT MEAN THAT HARRY IS A DAD ???!

⤷ harrysfan291 no way

⤷ ynsmybestie i mean... it's possible

⤷ harryshands HE IS A FATHER???

harryfan82 let's not spread rumours

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harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, ynupdates, harrysupdates, violadavis and 24 201 291 others

harrystyles yourinstagram 👶🏾👶🏾

view all 582 201 comments

yourinstagram we make beautiful babies

⤷ harrystyles it's all you, mama

ynupdates no words....

harryupdates congratulations!!!!

violadavis oh, mama. do you ever get some sleep?

⤷ yourinstagram barely, its harrystyles fault

⤷ harrystyles mint ice cream?

⤷ yourinstagram 🧍🏻‍♂️🧎🏿‍♀️

⤷ ynsmybestie girl????? oh, you got it BAD bad

ynsmybestie so she really in love? damn

harrysmoustache he's a daddy?????

ynshands well, now i know your babies are gonna be the most beautiful

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harrysupdates

liked by ynupdates, harrysmoustache and 6 201 others

harrysupdates HARRY AND YN AT THE HOTEL IN GLENDALE! i have a feeling after yesterday we're gonna see much more of them

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harrysmoustache they're in love love, got it

harrysfan290 might go sleep on the highway tonight

hArrysbtch it's too much to process. Harry's taken, he's with THEE YN, he's got a child and another one on the way???

ynupdates so they're that kinda couple? love it

ynshands yeah, it's been long enough since I felt this lonely, fair enough

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, taylorswift, annetwist, ynupdates, harrysupdates and 42 201 304 others

yourinstagram did this photoshoot not knowing little Bee is gonna have a sibling. harrystyles thank you for... you know what, for once i'll keep it PG ❤

britishvogue thank you for letting us be on the cover

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harrystyles thank you for Bee and little Sprout ❤

⤷ yourinstagram love you

taylorswift congratulations you two!

annetwist Can't wait to meet my second grandchild ❤️

harryupdates the joined interview???? babes

ynupdates i cried while reading the interview

hArrysbtch looking good, mama 🧎‍♀️

⤷ yourinstagram making me blush, im taken!

⤷ hArrysbtch what the hell???

⤷ yourinstagram i like your username, relatable

⤷ hArrysbtch JAIL

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https://www. vogue.co.uk/news/article/yn-and-harry-and-their family

British Vogue

On a surprisingly sunny day in London, our writer Tommy Jenkins was invited to the beautiful rural home on the outskirts of the busy capital city. The garden was blooming with spring flowers, covering the better part of the front house garden. On the porch was the whole YSN-Styles family - YN, Harry and their little first child - Bee (nickname, name not yet revealed to the public). 

The first time I talked to YN was after the 2014th MTV Music Awards, already struck by her presence, the way she presented herself and treated everyone around her - always kind, helpful and ready to cooperate. This is my first interview with YN, but also Harry Styles, who is YN’s husband. 

“We’ve been married, what, about seven months?” YN wondered, looking at Harry, who was cuddling their nine-month-old son. 

“Seven months and fourteen days exactly, time flies.”

“He’s better with dates than me,” YN countered with a smile. 

The wedding was small, held in this very house, I’ve been for the last few hours. Closest family and friends, sleeping Bee in the first row attended the ceremony, which then transferred to a dinner with Stevie Nicks performing. After my question of why they didn't announce it to the public, Harry took over the wheel, “there was no need to. It was something very private, personal to us. It uhm it still feels wrong to talk about with you, no offence.” No offence was taken. “Well-known people usually don’t have the privilege to protect their private life. It’s impressive for how long you did it,” I responded. “It’s sad. But we made it work.”

Enjoy the rest of the interview and learn about YN and Harry’s relationship, their future plans, YN’s new album and Harry’s next film role. 

TJ: Coming back to the privacy, what tipped the weight on the scales to accept our interview? 

YN: Good question. I think - well - I think after I decided to do the HalfTime Show it was bound to happen. There was no way I could hide my huge belly. Laughs. It just came up one evening and we were like “fuck it, let’s do it”.

TJ: HalfTime Show, how was it?

YN: Exhausting. It’s not easy dancing with this big of a belly, especially when you know that your child is right there. There - we had some second thoughts when I started to near the seven month mark. Just like with Bee my belly got quite big - which I love to see, hate to manoeuvre - I mean my back and legs are hurting me non stop. But going back to the topic - umm - yeah. The decision was hard, but we made it together. 

TJ: Harry, you came to the show right after winning everything you could on the BRITs. Congratulations, by the way!

Harry: Thank you. Blushing. Ehmm, yeah, in the beginning we decided to be together at the show. I actually didn’t want to be at the BRITs but YN bought me a plane ticket. Laughs. Yeah, I just flew to Glendale the day of the show to support my wife. 

TJ: How was the dancing on the platforms, YN?

YN: Terrifying. But I was harnessed and secure. 

TJ: If you let me, I want to ask you about your first meeting. Was it actually the 2013 MTV awards?

YN: It was. Ten - oh my lord - ten years ago. It’s crazy! 

TJ: How was it?

YN: I don’t remember the award show, just eating some oranges form a cute stranger behind me and then giving him my number. Which he lost.

TJ: No, you didn’t!

Harry: I did, I did lose the YN YSN phone number. My mates - my band mates - teased me for months about it. It was scary, actually. 

TJ: And when did you meet next?

YN: When was it? December 2015?

Harry: Yeah. I may or may not have made my bandmates perform FourFive Seconds during our Live Lounge set, and it just sprinted from there. 

YN: I DMed him after being shown that video by my younger sister. And that DM is actually framed and hang in Harry’s home studio. 

TJ: What was it?

Harry: “I guess it took collaborating with Paul McCartney to have you give me a hint.” 

TJ: And you started from there?

YN: And never looked back. 

TJ: It wasn’t the last time you performed YN’s song, was it? Wild Thoughts?

YN: Laughing. I love this! 

Harry: That was our first - let’s say - crumb to give people about us. 

TJ: Please elaborate.

YN: I wrote my verses in Wild Thoughts with Harry in mind, let’s be real. He was my inspiration and has been since the moment we’ve started seeing each other. But it was Harry’s idea to cover it. I loved it and he did it beautifully, like always.

TJ: I assume your albums are about YN?

Harry: Smiles. 

TJ: Okay, I understand. Let’s move on. YN, when we are in the topic of music -

YN: Oh no. My fans sent you, didn’t they?!

TJ: I’m one of them! When can we expect something? A crumb even.

YN: Two months. I - I have a full album written. Don’t know if my fans will like it, it’s - it’s different from anything I’ve done already. It’s something more rock, I’d say. With R&B of course. I couldn’t abandon my favourite genre. There are a few collaborations, Lift Me Up is there, too, a few notes sprouted all over the tracks maybe meaning something. Smirking. I really want them all to like it, but I wouldn't blame them if they didn’t. That’s just the way of how things could go. 

TJ: I love it already.

Harry: It’s very beautiful. Personal and deep. 

TJ: Harry, you’ve just won twoGrammy awards. Congratulations. But I want to ask you about acting. Do you have something, a script that you want to take part in bringing up to live? 

Harry: Thank you. Uhm. Right now I’m touring and whenever the baby is born, we’re stopping. Time for family is the most important thing in my life. 

TJ: Thank you for talking with me and welcoming us to your home.

The day you’re reading this interview - when it is published - YN already dropped her album. It probably is no. 1 on Billboard and breaking records. And if not? Be ready to listen to new music from YN - it’s closer than ever. 

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