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feyascorner · 9 months

Text

3 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. You hate him, you think. You want to hate him, at the very least.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asks, his expression indecipherable. “I didn’t realize the great savior of the city could be afraid of a mere vampire spawn.”

“You did try to strangle me last time we spoke."

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard, large chunks of italicized texts are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. redemption arc is coming i swear :) this is a whopping 4.7k i got kinda carried away but oh well,, Thank you so much for your comments on these they make my day and i appreciate each one<3

Dance upon the stars tonight

Smile and pain will fade away

“And what might our dear bard be working so passionately on?”

You look up from your notebook, ceasing the messy scribbling of lyrics into its tattered pages. Astarion perches himself beside you, the flames of the campfire flickering in the reflection of his eyes as you stop humming and raise a cautious brow. A vampire spawn. You’d never seen one in person–-only had you heard of them in your childhood tales of the spawn that would sweep away naughty children if they didn’t finish their vegetables. Up close, you can almost see his fangs protruding from the grin he's constantly wearing.

You wonder if it’s a genuine one.

“That bard at the grove today,” you recall. “Alfira? I’m trying to finish the lyrics and write them out for her.”

“Is that so? Surely you’re receiving some sort of payment for these gracious services?”

You train your eyes back onto the pages, shaking your head. “I’m doing this for fun. Her song is beautiful. It just needs—” you squint. “--adjustment.”

He laughs, and you can see the fangs clearly now. They’re sharper than you expected them to be. “I believe that’s a drastic understatement, my dear. My heart felt for those poor squirrels. I’m quite willing to bet that they have an aversion to bards now.”

“And you’re suddenly a musician yourself?”

“It doesn’t take a musician to recognize poor singing, darling Tav,” he returns. “And considering I’ve spent the past few days listening to your music, I’m sure you’ll understand why I considered it such an abomination.”

You narrow your eyes. “I thought you didn’t like me–or my music.”

“You? I'm still deciding,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes. “But I must say that I’m growing rather fond of that lyre of yours. Have you had it for long?”

You give him a sidelong glance before answering slowly. “I’ve had it for ages. Practically when I just started.”

“Explains itself then, I suppose.”

“And you?” you watch as he leans back on his palms. “Do you have any other talents to offer to our companions, or is it just your teeth?”

“Now, don’t be so cruel, dear,” he smiles wider. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re rather fond of them as well. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring all the time.”

“I’m on guard,” you clarify.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You’re not sure if you can sleep with one eye open, much less both of them closed. You’re not sure if you trust him at all, either, but as he stares up at the starry sky, simply listening to the crackling of the campfire, you decide you’d rather save yourself the energy for what awaits tomorrow.

“Why did you do that earlier?” you find yourself asking, and he replies by glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“Do what?”

“Save Wyll from that goblin arrow,” you mumble. “I thought you didn't care about any of us.”

“And what gives you that impression?”

You deadpan, staring at him with lidded eyes and he laughs out loud. It sounds more genuine than anything else he’s offered so far. It's nice.

“It’s a simple transaction, dear. One where I receive protection in turn for the occasional aid I can give with my own blade.”

You squint at him, but you see no signs of deception. So instead, you simply nod and resume scribbling into your notebook, softly humming to yourself alongside the lyrics. And when you halt, stuck on a particular lyric that you can’t seem to remember, you hear him shift, standing himself back up to retreat to his tent.

“Something about faith and care comes next if my memory serves,” is all he says before striding away. While you watch him in confusion, you click your tongue and try to focus again. And when you look down at your page, you remember the rest of the words.

Somehow, you feel the corners of your lips lift.

“As much as I’d love for this to be a charming, long-awaited reunion, one of the parties imposes a danger to the other.”

You wince at the sarcasm dripping from Gale’s voice. Duke Ravengard’s expression remains solemn, unmoving like a stone, while your companion pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “We can’t harbor a vampire spawn in our home. We’re supposed to be finding them, not keeping them!”

You hate the irony of the statement because the camp you’d spent so many months in with an uninvited guest in your head, had also been your home. One where you spent your nights in a vampire spawn’s tent. It’s not so different, you keep telling yourself. But you’re painfully aware that the Duke only knows a sugar-coated version of the falling out between you and said vampire. He doesn’t know how his son had to tear Astarion away from you and how your voice had been sore for weeks afterward.

“As much as I have my own opinions with allying with a vampire spawn,” the Duke stares at Astarion warningly. “Wyll did say this spawn saved his life while your party ventured together. For that, I'm willing to see reason if he’s cooperative, rather than restrain him with the Fists.”

You never thought much of it until now. With how many life threatening experiences you and your companions had come across, it felt natural to save one another. At first, it had been out of necessity—fear that one person would turn into an illithid. Yet, with time, you'd all grown fond of each other, one way or another.

You think back to when Astarion had saved Wyll and wonder if that part of him is still in there. Maybe it was never there at all. Maybe it had been another one of his manipulation tactics that you're so prone to falling for.

Gods, you're hopeless.

The wizard standing beside you sighs irritably. “But that was before he tried to squeeze the life out of-”

“How long do we need to keep him?”

Gale balks at your words. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

“Just until we’re able to locate the rest of the spawns spread throughout the city, which you kindly decided not to mention in our last conversation.”

You shoot Gale a glare, silently questioning if he’d been the one to confess the existence of the spawns underground, but he’s too busy scanning over Astarion, who’s mindlessly fidgeting with his knife. The said spawn seems to feel your gaze, because he glances at you, then grins.

The bastard is smiling.

“The man you killed this morning is a spawn himself, yes?” the Duke clarifies. “There have been numerous reports the past few days about strange figures with fangs throughout the city—I’d known they’d existed, but to the numbers that are being reported…”

“You couldn’t have possibly believed myself to be the only spawn around?” Astarion laughs bitterly. “I do not wish to go hungry, Duke, but I don’t need nearly as many bodies that’s been showing up—assuming that I did drink from anyone, of course.”

Ravengard ignores him, speaking as if he’s not there. “I could still have him detained if that is what you wish. We can continue as we have and search for the spawn without his help.”

You know it’s a fruitless effort if last night has told you anything.

“You don’t even have evidence that I drank from a single person in this entire bloody city!” Astarion spits back, rolling his neck in exasperation.

“No,” you purse your lips, finally looking up. “I’ll be responsible for him.”

Gale clears his throat alarmingly. “Now, dear leader, let’s have a private conversation before we make any hasty decisions, yes? Surely, we don’t have to decide right this moment.”

And while you open your mouth to respond that no, you won’t have Astarion rot away in some gross cell, the Duke nods. “Very well.”

Gale pushes you to the corner of the room, with his face clearly paling in disbelief. “Please tell me you’re joking. You want someone who nearly strangled you to death sleeping in the room next to yours?”

“Ravengard wants us to find out where the other spawn are hiding, and the only lead we have is sitting right there,” you defend yourself. “Throwing Astarion into a dirty cell won’t do anything to convince him to help us.”

“The Duke doesn’t know what he did to you!”

“He doesn’t need to. Astarion’s made it very clear he’s not going to spill any information if the Duke is the one asking, and we need a lead. I nearly died last night, Gale. I want to avoid that if I can.”

His eyes soften just a bit, but it’s enough. With a loud sigh, he scrunches his nose. “And you’re sure you’re not doing this for more personal reasons?”

At this, you pause. Your eyes waver, and the look Gale gives you is almost soul-crushing if it weren’t for the fact that you feel like you’ve already hit rock bottom. You know this is not a good idea. You know that being so close to him again after so many months is not a good idea, especially when you’ve just finally begun your journey to forget him.

You curse the gods above for your luck.

The silence prompts Gale to speak. “I’ll tell the Duke we can’t involve ourselves in this.”

“Gale,” your voice almost cracks. “Please.”

He doesn’t want to agree, you can tell. Any sane person wouldn’t invite a bloodthirsty vampire spawn who’s willing to use his own hands to kill his so-called lover into their home. You want to think that you’re void of bias, but you know it’s a pathetic attempt to reassure yourself. Still, the expression on your face must be quite the sight because Gale takes one look, glances at Astarion, then slumps his shoulders. You’ve won.

You hadn’t even realized the door had been swung open, where your other companions had been standing, taking one look at Astarion then to you. While Gale wallows in his own defeat, you turn to the others, eyes glimmering with a kind of hope that they haven’t seen in months.

“Your judgment’s gotten us this far,” Shadowheart sighs. “We’d be fools not to trust it now.”

Lae’zel clicks her tongue. “My blade is ready to slit his throat if need be. Just command me, and I shall.”

“We aren’t going to try to kill him," you retort.

“It’s only right to return the favor."

Dinner is awkward. You’re finally getting to try Gale’s stew, but it’s hard to focus on the taste when all you can feel is the searing stare of the person sitting across from you. He only has a goblet of crimson liquid in the same shade as his eyes in front of him, and it remains untouched as he takes in the rest of the house.

“So,” Gale offers. “What have you been up to?”

It’s not much, but it’s better than sitting in complete silence.

“Wandering the streets at night, mostly. Oh, and murdering half the city, apparently,” Astarion lets out his usual high-pitched laugh at the end, and your fingers tighten around your spoon. Shadowheart glares at him through her lashes, and you think she may lunge at him any second. You want to think you wouldn't stop her.

You feel for her, really. Being the group’s cleric comes with its advantages but also with the unspoken burden of watching your companions in pain. She’d been the one to ensure Astarion hadn’t left long-lasting damage to your throat. She’d been the one to soothe your headaches and cast a sleeping spell on you in hopes it’ll allow you to rest longer than just a few hours. She’d also seen you nearly bleed out multiple times, one of which occurred mere hours ago.

The sudden scrape of Lae’zel’s chair being pushed back catches your attention. She stands, lifting her bowl with her. “The air here is suffocating. Sort out your differences before I sort them out for you.”

The rest of you collectively nod. She doesn’t say anything else before leaving the room.

“The room at the end of the hallway upstairs is yours,” Shadowheart says finally. “Don’t bother me if you need anything else.”

She stands up as well, leaving her bowl in the sink before pacing up the stairs to her own quarters.

Somehow, the atmosphere is even worse now. You don’t dare lift your eyes from your stew, and you honestly hope it explodes before you have to sit here and drink all of it in this silence. Gale, thankfully, does not leave. Instead, he sets down his utensil.

“I suggest we have a set of rules in place–for the sake of everyone occupying this home,” he clears his throat. You shoot him a questioning look, which he dusts off.

“Fine,” Astarion leans back in his chair, now swirling the goblet of blood in his hand. “What do you have in mind?”

“No drinking. From anyone here.”

You blink a few times, then hear Astarion hum in acknowledgment. “Shame. Though your blood was vile anyway.”

“And don’t cause any trouble. One of us will go with you when you need to drink, so you can hunt for whatever animal you prefer these days. Otherwise, unless we say so, you’ll remain here.”

“Why, this sounds almost identical to a prison. Looking for a job as a warden, Gale? A midlife crisis, perhaps. Does wizard life not suit you anymore?”

“It suits me plenty, thanks,” Gale snorts. “We’ll be out during the day to rebuild the city, so you’ll have to entertain yourself in your own room. Don’t touch anything—especially my stuff.”

Astarion grins. “That almost sounds like an invitation.”

The wizard then turns to you. “And you? Do you have any other rules you’d like to add?”

You finally lift your head from the stew, looking back and forth between the two before shaking your head while pushing your chair back. For someone who’d imagined aimlessly for months about seeing your former lover again, you can’t seem to look him in the eye for fear of what you might feel. “I’m going out.”

“I’m going to take that as a no.”

Wordlessly, you pace toward the door, refusing to look back to suppress the urge to sprint back into his arms. You don’t know what you were thinking just a few hours ago, but this was not going to end well. If you couldn’t manage a simple dinner sitting across from him, what could you manage?

You’re in such a rush that you forget to bring anything besides your wallet.

By the time you’re on your way back to the house hours later, you have a backpack shoved full of fabrics with nails and a hammer to go along with it. As you pass by the taverns, you hear music playing from inside, alongside a few cheers and what you can only assume to be a crash of chairs as people applaud.

You can’t help but peer through the window as you walk past, where a bard merrily plays on his drum, lightening the mood of the entire tavern—even the bartender smiles along as he plays tunes you’ve heard a million times before. And while your hands itch for a lyre—to feel the string snap against your fingertips—you know no good will come of it. You’ll only sit before the instrument, your hands unable to find the emotions to exert in the form of notes.

As you stare at the bard, you remind yourself you’ve long given up on that kind of life.

So instead, you continue your way to the Highberry’s home. When you knock on the door, a very weary Cora Highberry greets you with bags under her eyes, but a calm smile still stretching on her lips nonetheless. She steps out of the way, inviting you in, and you do so.

“You didn’t have to, dear,” she says as she takes a bag of the city’s finest fruits from your hands. “The neighbors have been oh so gracious to us. They’re helping the children so much, I couldn’t possibly ask for more.”

“I was just passing by, that’s all,” you offer. “I wanted to check on you since I left a bit abruptly last time.”

“Oh, dear, you know how to make a woman feel special. It’s been terrible, really. I haven’t gone so long with my husband in ages…” she laughs, wiping at her swollen eyes. “But we were an old couple anyways…I had some time to prepare my emotions. I just didn’t think he’d go like that.”

You nod as she hands you a mug of hot tea. “But never mind that. I’ve spent the past two weeks talking about nothing but myself, so I’m quite tired. What about you, dear?”

“Me?”

“You look like death themselves,” she frowns. “I’ve lived for quite long…I recognize that heartbroken face anywhere. Has something happened?”

The way she’s staring at you—it’s different than pity. You can’t quite identify it, but she smiles again. It’s not the kind of smile most people give you—not one of anticpation, not one of gratefulness, but just a regular, old smile. And it makes your shoulders untense just the slightest before they tense again. You take a swig of the tea, nearly burning your throat in the process as you set the mug down, splitting a pathetic smile. “No, I’m okay. Just--tired.”

Very, very tired. Not physically, no, but tired of the indecisiveness that is your heart.

Her face falls softly. “How troubling it must be to have the weight of the city on your shoulders."

Before you can answer, there’s a loud thud upstairs. She notices your alarm and shakes her head. “Ah, must be Berry. She’s one of the younger children, and she’s been taking my husband’s death quite hard. Please excuse me, dear. I need to go put her back to sleep.”

And with that, you’re left alone on the first floor of the building again. You contemplate staying to say your farewells but the cries from upstairs convince you otherwise. Taking one last swig from the mug, you gather your things and leave.

When you get back home, it’s well into the night, an hour or two after midnight, you’d think. None of the lights are on, so the first thing you do is light a candle when you step through the door, dropping your backpack onto the dining room table. Dunking all your materials out, you take the hammer and start your work.

There’s something soothing about the darkness outside, with the way nothing seems to exist besides you and your own thoughts in a city that overflows with a sense of community. You try not to think about the man most likely reading in his room just a floor above you and focus on hanging the fabrics in front of all of the windows. The cloths are mismatched in color, and your hammer work is nothing more than sufficient, but it’ll do for now. At least until you can get actual curtains installed.

You worry that some of the fabrics aren’t thick enough to absorb all the sunlight, so you layer another fabric on top of it until you’re sure that even your candlelight cannot be seen from outside. Why you’re going so far for him, you do not know. You prefer to assure yourself that you need him to help stop the spawn from devouring the entire city, but even in your own thoughts, it sounds like a lie.

You wonder if he cares nearly as much as you do. He probably doesn’t.

You hate him, you think for the millionth time today. You want to, at the very least.

You flinch when a splinter in the wooden wall splits your skin open, forming a drop of blood on your index finger. Curse the heavens above, nothing was going right today. You quickly reach for a towel but nearly jump when you hear his voice from the stairs.

“You really need to stop with that habit of yours.”

You spin around, and he’s already at the foot of the stairs, reaching to grab a towel from the kitchen. But you’re faster, snatching it away and pressing it over your hand while he raises both his own, imitating a surrender of getting any closer. You can’t look at him in the eye—you don’t want to either. “What habit?”

“You’re speaking to me now?” he raises a brow, and you turn away again after shooting him a glare. “I’d thought you’d avoid me forever—scurrying off like a squirrel whenever I step into the room.”

You should avoid him forever. But the words don’t reach your tongue, and you choose to ignore him.

He doesn’t budge. “I meant bleeding around me.”

“What?”

“Every time I see you, you always seem to be bleeding.”

You frown at him. “Maybe you just prefer being around me when I’m bleeding.”

“You might be right." You think maybe he’s done with this painfully awkward conversation until you see him staring at the windows covered with random pieces of fabric, and suddenly, you feel embarrassment creep up your skin. You realize how bizarre your actions must appear in someone else’s eyes, staying up to the break of dawn so that he’ll be able to traverse someplace outside the confines of his own room…

It might make him think you care, and the worst part is that a part of you does.

“I hope you don’t expect me to thank you, darling.”

The nickname feels like a stab to your heart, haunting, even, but you do your best to brush it off.

“For what?” you manage to force out through clenched teeth.

“The cell they would’ve thrown me into is nothing different from trapping me in that room, I’m afraid,” he laughs bitterly, and you want to crawl into a hole from how cold his voice sounds. Distant. Like how he’d sounded the day you found him next to his nautiloid pod. “But I suppose I should be grateful for having a bed instead of having to spend my days rotting away on the dirty floor?”

You bite your bottom lip, brows furrowing. “I don't expect anything from you.”

But you do. Not quite an expectation, but a lingering wish that maybe you can heal. It's pathetic, even in your own eyes and surely everyone else's, but you can't be bothered to care.

It pisses you off a bit. How he seems perfectly unfazed while you continue to drown in your own feelings.

“Are you just here to taunt me, or is there a reason for this conversation?” you snap. This is not quite how you wanted your reunion to go.

He raises a brow. “Taunt you? I'm only answering questions you're afraid to ask.”

“I don't need to know anything about you,” you grit through your teeth. “You left my mind the second you abandoned us.”

What a poor, wishful lie.

“Ha!” It doesn't really sound like a laugh—more a scoff of disbelief. It's like he knows what you're thinking, and for a split second, it feels like there's a tadpole in your head again. “Of course you think I'm the villain of your precious heroic tale! Honestly darling, the irony just writes itself.”

You fight the urge to scowl, but you're not sure if you're successful. You find yourself gripping onto the towel harder, teeth clenched as your chest tightens just hearing his words. You truly hate that he seems to care less than you—it’s like he's not even taking you seriously.

And that damned nickname.

It feels like talking to the Astarion you first met—one who’s only intentions were to use you—but this time, you don't think it’s a mask. He doesn't want anything more from you. Only your own suffering from taking the power that would have made him untouchable.

“So tell me, dear, do you wish for me to grovel at your feet?”

Your eyes widen, and the term of endearment that once made your cheeks flush only makes you feel sick. “What?”

“Do you expect me to drop to my knees, begging for your forgiveness?” he says again, eerily composed while you struggle to come up with words. “Perhaps I would have if we were still staying in that camp. Put on a show, even."

You frown, setting your hammer down on the counter. “I’ve never made you grovel. I’ve never made you do anything.”

“Maybe not directly, no, you’re too kind of a soul to do so,” there’s venom lacing the words that feel nothing short of a lie. Somehow, he’s still smiling. “Instead, you made me beg for your help. You accepted—made it feel like I had a choice. Then tore it away just the same, in the cruelest way possible. Impressive, really. I didn't expect such dramatic sins from you.”

The way he looks at you, words dripping with sarcasm, makes you want to melt into the floor, ceasing to exist as a whole. But alas, you continue standing like a deer in headlights, unsure of how to respond. You look down to see the towel stained with your blood and inhale deeply, watching the dark sky lighten with daybreak through the window. “The sun’s rising.”

His smile drops, something foreign flickering in his eyes. He suddenly steps toward you, and as soon as he gets within two feet, you find yourself stepping backward, your fingers tightening around the hammer. You have no idea if you'd even be able to use it, but it's better than digging your nails into your palms.

It doesn't go unnoticed.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asks, his expression indecipherable. “I didn’t realize the great savior of the city could be afraid of a mere vampire spawn.”

You don't want to think he'd truly kill you. Not really, but your mind flashes back to the look in his eyes when he had his hands wrapped around your lifeline, and you grip the hammer tighter, heartbeat pounding impossibly fast.

“You did try to strangle me last time we spoke,” you mutter.

His lip twitches, and he steps back bitterly. You feel like you can breathe again.“Ah, yes, that.”

You swear your stomach drops to your feet at the mere suggestion he’d forgotten what haunts your nightmares every night, forcing you to lurch from your rest in a cold sweat, hands shaking, and having nobody to turn to for comfort. He couldn't be that cruel…could he? You want to scream at him, punch him, kick him, tell him he’s not being fair. You want to defend yourself, say that all you’ve ever wanted was for him to be safe, but even that feels like too much when he’s giving you so little.

“Very well, I’ll indulge you,” he grins again. You realize your time is running out, the sun beginning to peer out from the horizon. “Why did you assume responsibility for me? I can’t imagine why you’d want such a terrible foe in your life living right next door of your own sanctuary.”

For the city, you tell yourself. For Cora's husband and the poor victims drained off their life, all alone in the darkest corners of Baldur's Gate. “...I didn’t do it for you.”

He searches your face for something, his eyes narrowing. He's waiting for you to continue, but there's no more fuel in the tank, and now you just want to sleep for a very long time. You assume he comes up empty when the corners of his lips fall, and he turns to climb up the stairs. Sunlight hits your back as your eyes trail him in his steps, and it does nothing to warm how cold it feels in the room.

“That much I’m aware,” he stops his steps for a brief moment. You barely catch it, but it's there. “Terribly aware.”

And when he finally leaves, you bury your face into your hands.

"I'm nervous."

"What for?"

"What if the ascension goes wrong? Are you sure we should really be doing this, Astarion?"

He brushes your hair out of your face, cupping both your cheeks in his hands. "We'll be okay, my love. I will still be here, and so will you. I'll just finally have enough power to protect what I care about."

He sees the hesitance in your eyes and leans his forehead against yours. You melt into his touch, placing your hands atop his.

"So please, stand beside me for this," he pleads.

And despite the way your intuition screams at you otherwise, despite the way your very being begs you to pull away, you nod, sealing your fate.

"I'll be right here."

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#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3 #angst with a happy ending #angst #gale of waterdeep #shadowheart

620 notes · View notes

azulpitlane · 9 months

Note

got love stuck part 3 please i’m begging it’s so good i need it

out of the woods I ln4

pairing: lando norris x reader, exbf! mason mount x reader summary: in which lando has to communicate his insecurities but is he too late? notes: ask and you shall receive, this one took a while cause I had it all written out then I hated it and started over😇but this is the last part!! i loved making this thank u for being so supportive considering part one was my first ever post!! now send some requests hehe part one, part two, masterlist

lando i fucked up, its too late

danny ric what do you mean its too late?

lando i texted her and no response she went to dinner with mason tonight they're probably still together right now

danny ric okay so you're jumping into conclusions AGAIN you have to have some faith in her mate and stop assuming the worst

lando she was with her ex after our breakup what am I suppose to do?

danny ric communicate, you muppet you can't just give up after one try

lando okay okay you're right, i was overthinking im booking the next flight to london

danny ric um i was thinking maybe a phone call?

lando too late, already booked it

dailymail

102,339 likes

dailymail Trouble in paradise? Singer Y/n Y/l/n and F1 driver Lando Norris reunited in London today. Onlookers claim the two were having a heated conversation about their relationship and it is unclear whether the two are currently together or not. Was this argument result of Y/l/n's infidelity? The singer was spotted twice within this month with ex boyfriend, Mason Mount. Read more on the singer's relationship timeline with Mount and Norris in our article linked in the bio.

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user yes lets just make assumptions that y/n is a cheater based on nothing🙄

user if lando took her back ill be so mad. shes so toxic

user you have no idea what shes like in real life? you're just basing your opinion on some stupid tabloid that constantly spreads misinformation on her

user WAR IS OVER (THEYRE STILL TOGETHER IDC WHAT ANYONE SAYS).

user YUP Y/N AND LANDO DEFENDER TIL I DIE user SAME IM CONVINCED SHE NEVER CHEATED IDC IDC

user this doesn't even look like a heated argument to me?? y'all be doing too much

user please let this be just a friendly conversation and her and mason got back together☹️

user its been a year, I think its time to move on from that relationship user yup!! shes clearly moved on y'all need to do it too user her relationship with lando has been messy from the start, she never had to deal with this drama with mason that's all im sayin

user this page is obsessed with y/n!! leave my girl aloneeee

yourusername

liked by landonorris, masonmount and 5,283,239 others

yourusername out of the woods out now.

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selenagomez on repeat already💙 liked by yourusername

user WAIT WHOS THE GUY IN THE LAST SLIDE

user HAS TO BE LANDO user praying its mase but I have a feeling its lando☹️

user the way these lyrics can apply to both mason or lando so we have no clue who its about🧍‍♀️

user and they both liked aghhhh!!!!

danielricciardo amazing song, so so proud liked by yourusername

francisca.cgomes can't stop listening im obsessed😍 liked by yourusername

user okay danny and the wags are all commenting this is a good sign for us lando and y/n defenders

alexandrasaintmleux you're so talented I love it!! liked by yourusername

user y/n dropping this after being seen with lando again, I think its time for us mason defenders to retire :(

landonorris

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 920,482 others

landonorris want you for worse or for better, would wait forever and ever tagged yourusername

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user YES WE CAN FINALLY SAY WAR IS OVER

user I KNEW IT YES

yourusername and that's how it works💙

user these are definitely song lyrics AHHHH user landos listened to the new album omfsgnks user new album is gonna be mix of love and breakup songs with the drama methinks

user MOM AND DAD ARE DONE FIGHTING

maxfewtrell sap

user careful lando, once a cheater always a cheater

user where is the proof of her cheating?? there literally is none user they literally broke up after she was seen with mason user give up this narrative already!! her and lando are clearly happy together so who cares

yourusername

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 7,284,234 others

yourusername these past few weeks have felt like a crazy, emotional train wreck but there's nobody else I would've rather done it with than my best friend and lover💙 i usually never address anything like this but there are somethings that aren't easy to shake off especially when it comes to my relationship and my loyalty being questioned. there has never been somebody who has been so perfect for me and i would never trade this love for anybody elses. i could go on and on about it but i find it easier to communicate through music.

my new album is out tonight at midnight, it is a collection of songs written from last year to now. interpret the songs as you like but just know there is only one person im in love with right now.

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user OMFG WEVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS

user she just nicely told all mason x y/n supporters to stfu

user not only that but she beat the cheater allegations🙏

user THIS IS SO CUTE WHAT

user "would never trade this love for anybody elses" IMCRYIN

landonorris love you so so much, dont know what I would do without you

yourusername lan love u more🥹 user AWWW user nobody can be a mason x y/n fan after this cause they are too cute

landonorris this album is amazing, im so incredibly proud of you and everything you've been through liked by yourusername

carlossainz55 very excited for this one liked by yourusername

masonmount this was very well said, congrats on the new album!! liked by yourusername

user OMG? user in their besties era omdfsnkln user I knew they were just friends through all this!!!

user okay officially retiring the mason x y/n agenda..it was a good run

user def the end of an era but our girl is happy🫶

user now that the drama is over can we focus on how good this album is gonna be

user fr the drought is officially over

yourusername

liked by landonorris, yourbff and 3,232,325 others

yourusername the love for my new album has been insane, thank you guys so much!! so many records broken just on the first day of the release and i couldn't have done it without you guys💙

now it is time to hibernate for a little bit and spend some much needed time off with my loved ones so this is a lil goodbye... for now!

see ya later

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user NO COME BACK

user gave us some lando content before dipping, thank u mother

user she took 'I know places we won't be found' to a whole different level because nobody can find out where theyre vacationing

user good!! they need some privacy after this messy drama

landonorris got you all to myself now

maxfewtrell gross yourusername perv

kellypiquet ❤️‍🩹 liked by yourusername

user but will we see you at the paddock next season🥹

yourusername ofc!! catch me rooting for my babyyy

user what a crazy era. hopefully well get some performances and lando supporting after this break

landonorris will be front row at every show user wag and rockstar's bf. try not to say parents challenge omg user can't wait for the content of them supporting each other at races and concerts ahhh

yourbff pls dont make me an auntie soon im too young

yourusername okay im officially logging off.

tags: @jayrami3 @whoselly @roseseraj @saturnbloom77@landowecanbewc

#lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris smau #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #f1 x reader #ln4 #f1 fanfic

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mywritingonlyfans · 29 days

Text

One For The Road. // Mentor!Alex Turner X FreshSinger!Reader (Smut) Part 1

Prompt: (Age Gap Fic;Fem!Reader) Alex is on an extended hiatus from the band and finds himself wanting to start a studio to recruit new talent. One day, he hears a voice on the radio that captivates him, so he jots down the name and, with that voice stuck in his head, searches for it on Google. When he finds you, you both decide to work together for your growth, setting off a journey filled with new melodies, issues with paparazzi and online exposure, and Alex being completely smitten with his latest discovery and love.

Words: 9,5K

A/N: The fic was planned in three chapters: before the recognition (fame), during the recognition (fame), and after the recognition (fame).

Alex felt fulfilled, both physically and emotionally; he didn’t need any additional elements to complete his sense of satisfaction. During the band's extended break, due to various factors like other members' children and James admitting that a break would be beneficial, Alex found himself contemplating new possibilities. Unable to step away from music entirely, he set up a studio and handled other bureaucratic aspects for future artists. This was his way of giving back to an industry that had been so rewarding for him.

He didn’t know much about the artist he was suddenly into, only that sabe was a young girl with a captivating presence. Alex had heard your voice in the car before visiting Miles. It had a numbing effect on him, in a good way, leaving him sitting in the parked car after arriving, gazing out the window and absorbing every word you sang as if they were drops of water in the desert. It was strange, but it was exactly what he needed.

Your voice was raw with potential but still unrefined—you were not bad, just clearly new. The lyrics were sweet and nostalgic, evoking feelings that seemed foreign yet familiar. Alex found your work mature in a way he hadn’t been when he first started making music. He couldn’t picture your face, hair, or preferred style, but your voice lingered in his mind; the breaths, pauses, sometimes resembling soft and failed sighs, were compelling.

After the song ended, he stared at the radio display, waiting for your name to be announced. He quickly grabbed a notebook to jot down before he could forget.

Alex briefly mentioned you during dinner with Miles, running his fingers through his hair absentmindedly. His friend could tell that you had affected him in some way. "Just a girl, huh? How many times have you listened to her songs, Al?" Alex was usually romantic in his descriptions, this time he swore he had been succinct—though he felt he had failed. As the visit was coming to an end, all he could think about was your voice; he had to share you with someone else.

"Not many," he admitted honestly, though it wasn’t very convincing. Miles laughed, indicating he would listen later. His friend's recommendations were always reliable.

…

Finding you on the internet wasn’t easy. Alex had written down the wrong surname, which delayed his search longer than anticipated. You had no professional recordings, and later Alex discovered that the radio segment he had heard was an exclusive broadcast for new artists. All he found were amateur videos on YouTube of you singing in some pubs, with poor audio quality that didn’t do you justice. He listened to them repeatedly over the next few days.

The videos with better resolution were watched more often, and although Alex feared it might be due to your angelic face, he tried to avoid focusing on the fact that you were younger than him–perhaps more than he could point out. Nevertheless, as he closed his eyes before sleeping, he often imagined you from the video of your channel, wearing that summer wine dress with the straps slightly falling off. He imagined gently adjusting them with his finger, smoothing your hair while your calm eyes followed him. Your head falling affectionately into the caress of his palm and a brief wet kiss to your temple as your eyelashes flutter; not that he thought he would have such an effect on you.

It was indescribable how your voice occupied his mind more than anything else. He found himself humming snippets of your lyrics in the shower, while cooking, every end of the day. When he called Miles the next weeknd, his friend knew exactly what to expect.

…

You were delicate, and the words flowed from your lips effortlessly. Indeed, the cameras, the analog look, and the audio from the YouTube recordings didn’t do justice to what it was like to experience you live. There were few people, mostly around your age, though some appeared older with their doubtful expressions. It was a pleasant environment.

He watched you from a distance, neither too far nor too close. Wearing a white collared shirt, jeans, and a brown jacket, he kept his sunglasses on even at night to avoid being easily recognized. Occasionally, he slid the glasses down his nose to get a clearer view of you without the lenses.

You held the microphone gently, as if it weighed nothing, intertwining the cord between your fingers and taking small steps across the makeshift, tiny stage. Most people were distracted, but many took a moment to watch and listen to your music. Sometimes your voice faltered, and he noticed your disappointment, but you were so endearing.

You wore white tights and a black dress with a Peter Pan collar; Alex thought it suited you perfectly. He adjusted the edges of his shirt peeking out from under his jacket, a reflex of how your fingers nervously fidgeted with the fabric of your dress on stage. He smiled sweetly, as if hoping you could see and feel encouraged by it. You were doing well.

At the end, which was marked by silence following your thanks, he began clapping, soon joined by everyone else. You tried not to look around too much, not expecting the applause, and Alex was pleased to see you so happy.

You held a glass in your hand, chatting with the guitarist. Alex could easily see himself playing guitar alongside you in that dimly lit place filled with long, whispered conversations that created an intimate atmosphere. The guitarist nudged you, indicating Alex standing in front of you. When you turned, Alex felt his palms sweating and had to hide them in his pockets. You were even more beautiful up close; your posture wasn’t perfectly straight, but he noticed your charming walk and had to avoid smiling.

Alex felt more awkward than a teenager talking to girls, and he wasn’t proud of it. You greeted him with a warm smile, and before he could say anything, he knew you were as warm as you looked. “I enjoyed your performance up there. You sing really well, and the original lyrics are great. You’re very talented.” The compliment came out smoothly because he had practiced it many times. He felt his face flush, knowing he was fully red.

You bit your lips, offering a shy smile and resting your fingers right around the edges of your dress. Alex found this to be an adorable habit of yours. If he could, he would have held your hand and provided some distraction from whatever you were thinking. You thanked him, unsure of what to do or say but sincere nonetheless. When Alex offered a drink, he noticed your hesitation, but there wasn’t anything better for you to do than share a drink with someone who, for reasons you couldn’t quite place, seemed familiar. He was being nice.

“I don’t think anyone has ever come to see me sing so well-dressed,” you said, your eyes sparkling. Alex felt that in a few hours, you’d be more comfortable around him.

Noticing your assessment of his outfit, you could tell it wasn’t cheap; the fabric of his button-up shirt was well-tailored, the collar had a unique design, and the jacket was definitely leather. Not that you knew much about such things, but you didn’t see many like that.

Alex saw you enveloping your hands and didn’t think twice before taking off his jacket and draping it over you. Fingers touched your icy skin and he wished he had noticed sooner. You didn’t resist, your expression showed that you needed it; you merely nodded in thanks. “Don’t you think you deserve it?” Alex hadn’t intended it to sound flirtatious, but he realized it as soon as the words left his mouth. You shook your head, giving a half-hearted laugh.

He considered apologizing, but you continued, “I think it’s nice to think that someone would dress up to see me here, you know? To know that you’d come to see me sing and then anticipate it throughout the day, even considering what outfit would be most suitable or comfortable. It’s kind.” You were much more eloquent than he was, your words flowed naturally.

You sighed in relief, snuggling into the leather and tucking your hands into the long sleeves. Alex felt his chest warm up. You gestured animatedly while speaking, clearly excited, and probably didn’t even notice when your knees brushed together and stayed there in a pleasant touch that made him not want to move. “Well, if it helps, I heard you on the radio the other day and wanted to see you in person.” He breathed between his words, his voice deepening with the pauses.

You nodded, brushing off the compliment, not because you disliked it but because you didn’t want to deal with it. “I like your accent; it makes you sound older than you are.” Your shoulders brushed together, casually but comfortably, a result of your restlessness. There was a brief silence as you both listened to each other’s calm breathing amidst the background noise of drinks.

Maybe the contact was what mattered; Alex hadn’t planned this poorly. Despite his struggle with succinct communication, he explained the record label project, detailing the steps and what could be done if you wanted to pursue something more professional. At some point, you stopped listening to him, your eyes wandering over his dark hair cascading in beautiful waves, the furrow between the eyebrows, his perfectly shaped mouth, and the stubble that was starting to grow. He gestured less than you did, but his large yet delicate hands made him seem like a Christmas ornament, like men in '80s movies or even a younger Al Pacino.

“I’m listening, but I wouldn’t have the money for it; I can’t even afford a guitar. I play in pubs because I can use their instruments; they don’t pay well, and sometimes it’s just beer and food.” You spoke honestly, without bitterness about how it limited your dreams. You had the purity of someone who believed it was for you. Someone bumped into your chair, causing Alex to steady it, which brought your bodies closer together. He could now distinguish the exact color of your eyes and the scent of your hair. His mouth went dry. “That’s my point; you get paid so I can help you get heard and recognized for your work.”

…

"Did you set up the record label for the girl?" Miles carried a hint of truth, though he knew it was initially Alex’s idea, and you were the final touch that made it happen.

"It’s not like that, she’s really good. You’ll meet her." Alex’s voice carried warmth and anticipation; in a few months, you’d be fully immersed in this with him.

"And does she know what’s going on in your head? Like, the reason for your soft tone and silly grin when you mention her name? I might be wrong, but it doesn’t seem like you’re just thinking of her as a musician, Alex."

He shook his head, as if Miles could see him. "It’s nothing. I just want to help her with this. Besides, I’m not at that stage; we don’t fit in the same place." The idea of putting all that into words hurt a little.

The conversation continued, as if that settled the matter, both on the call and in real life. But Miles’s final words were, "Alex, I’m sure this will hurt her more than it will hurt you; you don't deal well with reason, your feelings will get in the way.”

And though it stung, it might be true—something to consider with concern. But would it really be so bad to spend all that time with you?

…

You learned who he was and thought it might be a scam, but a simple Google search left you stunned. You clearly knew the band, just not his exact current appearance; it certainly wasn’t like in the “Cornerstone” video, but the more recent ones fit the style of a dad with a six-year-old daughter, which was pleasant. Your friends were happy for you, even if they were as incredulous as you.

“It’s quite big; will more people be coming here?” Your voice echoed through the studio, your fingertips freezing. You’d arrived a few weeks ago and had some singing lessons Alex had arranged with another professional, but from then on, you feared he would be your sole tutor.

“For now, yes, but later there’ll be more people.” You nodded, hands in the pockets of your dress. LA was hot, he was killing you with that air conditioning. He had shown you every corner, you felt quite comfortable; the place had guitars on the wall, basses, and a drum set from that inaccessible brand. You stood in front of him, looking like a lost child, genuinely waiting for what to do next. It took him a moment, but he understood.

“Okay, I didn’t plan this out too well,” he laughed softly. He mentioned having read the songs you sent, even though he had heard them before, now he knew the exact lyrics. “Is it okay if I use the equipment?” Your question was followed by the tips of your fingers touching one of the microphones and holding the headphones, waiting for his response.

“Feel free to use whatever you want, little one.” Your cheeks were warm, making you bite the bottom of them. You looked confused at the buttons; they were just buttons with no informative labels. Alex had forgotten that this was familiar only to him. “Sure, it’s a good idea to get you familiar with everything first, then we can see what to do.” It sounded like a good idea.

The time passed quickly; what took hours, with Alex, seemed like minutes. Sometimes silence would fall over you both, but it was so comfortable. He had a pleasant voice, explaining things as if they weren’t intuitive, and you could visualize them. You liked it. His hair was longer than the last time you saw him, falling into a cute fringe over his eyes, which shone brightly as he spoke and gestured. He wore a suit and a button-up shirt, making no sense given the amount of fabric he was wearing in the LA sun.

“It’s pretty heavy, Turner,” he had given you a red guitar with white detailing, the side bearing his last name. It had clearly been through some battles but was beautiful. Alex found your pronunciation of the “r” endearing, rolled on your tongue and lingering. No one called him that around; it could be your thing. The guitars you had played were lighter, less durable.

“You can play if you want. You can also make it your own; it’s a good idea to get used to a specific one for now.” You listened, wondering why you wanted him to call you “little one” again. You held the strap, looking at the floor. “I don’t know how to play,” your voice was weak, your fingers pressing the strings without making any sound. He nodded, understanding you.

“What don’t you know, little one?” His face was calm, as if it didn’t cross his mind that you might be a fraud. His body was positioned behind yours, and you felt your heart racing; you were sure he could hear it. He placed his hand on the neck of the guitar, adjusting some strings.

What happened was: you would hum melodies, your friends would map out the notes, next you had them with you.

“I only remember my songs, which are few. I memorized them with the help of some friends at the pub.” You didn’t like how that sounded. You stepped back without thinking, bumping into Alex’s firm chest. He held your waist, noticing your nervousness. You still smelled the same as before.

“There’s nothing wrong with that; no one is born knowing. I learned a lot from the first album ‘til now; we can work on that if you want.” You heard the guttural sound he made when speaking slowly in your ear, dangerously close. “Do you want to try something?” he asked, a little before plucking a small segment of one of your songs. Alex had heard it so much that he had memorized the chords. You found it strange but ignored it; controlling your breathing was more complicated.

“I don’t know, Turner,” he laughed, the pleasant nasal sound close, with his blazer rubbing against your bare arms. He took your hands in his, guiding your fingers as he wanted, explaining each string press and brief sound. It took some time, and due to your anxiety, it seemed to take longer than usual.

“It doesn’t seem to sound very good,” you impulsively turned your face to look at him. His eyes, which had been on your hands, moved to your face, and it was closer than you had experienced before. “But it will, you know?” He smiled, his slightly crooked lower teeth noticeable to you, as well as the light beard scars and age lines around his eyes. God, he was so beautiful.

“You’re doing well, lil’ one; you just need to relax and be more patient.” You felt your fingers ache, pulling your hands slightly away from Alex’s. “You trust me a lot.” He noticed the superficial cut, the tips of your fingers bruised a bit, pretty normal, and you seemed quite calm about it. “Shouldn’t you? Trust yourself? I haven’t seen anything in you so far that doesn’t show how good you are at what you do...” The sentence was lost, somewhat unformed, but you wished he would talk about you like that more often. He took your finger, drying it with the edge of his shirt, which had become slightly reddened, and pressed until it stopped. It was hard not to just look at him. Your cold hands made Alex make a mental note that you weren’t a big fan of the air conditioning or that maybe your clothes were too short and thin.

…

On the same night, before heading back to the hotel, Alex suggested you two could go out to eat together as a way to spend more time talking. Since you’d spent hours at the studio and he hadn’t thought to offer you food or water, he chose a more relaxed place, reminiscent of the pubs where he knew you performed—live music and cozy lighting.

Upon arrival, you felt the chill against your arms. Alex laughed. You hadn’t seen him take off his blazer, but you noticed his attentive gaze as he draped it over your shoulders. It was a comforting relief. “I can control the studio’s temperature, but most places ‘ere are air-conditioned; you’ll end up feeling cold,” he said. You didn’t respond, only pondering whether Alex would always have a jacket or blazer for you if you never wore one. You liked his scent on you and the respectful way he looked at you, you hated that your thoughts were not as innocent.

As you sat across from him, there was little distraction, and you knew it would be a challenging time—more accurately, a journey to be honest, regardless of what happened next. He had loosened more buttons due to the heat. The collar was pressed against his rosy skin, neck chain attached to his sweat, and his eyes were on you, making your stomach flutter. Your foot brushed against his calf under the table, you couldn’t look at him. He smiled pleasantly as usual, the distinctive nasal sound of his laugh remaining soothing, despite the feelings he stirred in you. Your foot found comfort there, resting against him; neither of you moved.

“It smells nice; what is it?” he asked before you put away your pink tube of moisturizer.

“It’s peach,” you replied, sounding a bit excited. You wanted to talk but felt that besides your music, you might not be interesting to him, even though you felt there was something desirable in that; even if you didn't see yourself that way.

“The scent is great; it makes me less tense, Turner,” you said. You took his hand in yours. They were larger and calloused—something your fingers should be. You applied a drop of cream, massaging his hand with focus on each callus and prominent vein.

The sensation was light for him (even for you); your nails brushed against his wrist with a pleasant tickle. Taking your time, you smoothed out the creases in his poorly folded shirt, rebuttoned it, and adjusted the fold to what Alex would consider the perfect height. Your touch was gentle, and there you were, right in front of him, with your shoulders covered by his blazer. He noticed the strap of your dress was a little crooked, but you were nestled in something warm. Alex cherished everything about that realistic snapshot.

When you finished, you noticed his attention was on your face. You smiled slightly, as did he. You were in complete silence, yet every minute counted.

The food arrived shortly, and you didn’t need to question it. He simply whispered a “thank you, little one” to you as you curled into his blazer a bit more. He was hoping it would carry your scent by the end of the night.

The atmosphere remained the same—you both enjoyed each other's company, evident in the unspoken comfort between you. The air felt light in your lungs, yet breathing was easy and relaxed. Alex wasn't particularly hungry, but seeing your bright eyes and inevitable smile with every bite you took, he couldn't help savoring his food as well. You made him feel good; he realized just how true that was.

He gently brushed the corner of your mouth with his clean thumb, wiping away a small smudge. You followed his movement intently, reflexively cleaning the spot afterward. For a brief moment, Alex considered bringing his thumb to his lips out of instinct, but quickly caught himself, realizing the weight of the gesture, and instead wiped it off with a napkin. He thought about apologizing, but feared it would make things awkward.

However, you continued to look at him, your face full of color, the atmosphere just as comfortable and inviting as before. It wasn't a mistake for you; you liked the tingling sensation his touch left on your skin.

…

The weeks passed effortlessly; neither of you avoided the other. Occasionally, you both made your way down from your rooms together for dinner at the hotel restaurant or to have a drink. Conversations came easily. At first, Alex felt uneasy about how you didn’t smoke during routine activities, which made him uncomfortable for not being able to cut back on the habit himself. However, over time, he grew used to it and eventually stopped smoking around you, finding that he missed it less.

Sometimes, nights at the studio would deliberately stretch late, with Alex fine-tuning guitars that didn’t really need it or you attempting to replicate familiar songs on the drums, under the guise of practice. The truth was, even though you both knew you didn’t truly need each other, you still made an effort to be close to one another, whether in quiet moments or during busier times.

"Y’know, oldie. We moved it all online…” You mentioned it when you opened your eyes and noticed Alex annoyed by the droplets from his hair dripping onto his newspaper.

You couldn't pinpoint where the idea came from, but you understood his priority in not overwhelming you—imagining how a poor work dynamic could fall into the hands of bad journalists. In the end, that led you both to the beach, enjoying the refreshing breeze that made the sun less intense.

Your comment drove him to give up on the newspaper and just look at you. He couldn't look at you casually or quickly, he was getting used to that. Behind his sunglasses and cap, he felt like he was taking advantage by noticing the thin strap of your bikini and the ties and lace that drove him to think of other pieces. He took a deep breath, sinking into the lounge chair, like in romantic comedies that end well. You brushed your knee against his, drawing his attention back to you (yes, you were sharing the only remaining chair meant for couples—neither of you even knew such a thing existed).

Alex quickly realized he was blushing, feeling the heat in his cheeks when he got you had noticed him staring at you. "Do you need sunscreen? I didn't see you apply any yet," you asked, getting ready for your second layer, while Alex hadn’t put on any. "How disgraceful, Turner. You hardly seem like an older man." He rolled his eyes at your amusement.

His hair was tousled by the wind. His face had a radiant glow at you. You put some of it in his hand, and he began to apply it to his sun-kissed cheeks and nose, a bit of it smudging into his hair. You couldn’t help but laugh at the scene, his clumsy hands more likely to smear than spread the lotion properly. "Alright, Tur, let me handle this." You moved closer, your cool fingertips touching his skin and discarding the sunglasses. He caught the scent of peach as it drifted on the breeze, smiling softly as you smiled at him. Your gentle touch grazed his cheeks, finding comfort in the rough texture of his beard, which made you scrunch your nose in a playful smile that turned into a quiet laugh. Letting himself relax, Alex closed his eyes as you smoothed the excess lotion onto his neck. He wished he didn’t enjoy that closeness, but he did, and he had no intention of denying it.

You cleaned the stray strands of hair and lightly traced your thumb up the bridge of his nose, pausing briefly between his eyebrows. Alex sighed in contentment, his lips parting slightly, you felt even more at ease. Before he could open his eyes, you stepped back, slathering more sunscreen into your hands, then pressed your palms against his soft shoulders and just above his chest. He gave you a funny look, but before anything else could happen, you pulled away. "Rub it in," you instructed, noting his slight confusion. "And turn around. I'm going to apply it on your back." Touching his warm, velvety skin felt therapeutic. He shared that same sentiment. Was this how cats felt when they kneaded with their paws? It was just as comforting.

Alex felt the same when his fingers touched your back in return. The silence weighed on him, with only the pulsing of his veins echoing in his ears. Yet, you smiled peacefully, eyes closed and lower lip caught between your teeth as you lay on your stomach. He massaged your skin with sunscreen, convinced that this was a laborious task. Your muscles relaxed under his touch, and he noticed a foolish smile creeping onto his lips.

He gently moved the delicate strap of your bikini aside, making sure to cover every inch, no matter how thin the material was. His palm brushed your hair away from the nape of your neck, and for a long moment, he imagined kissing your sensitive skin, hearing your sighs at a playful bite, letting out the repetitive thoughts that were always about you stuck in his mind. He had memorized your scent, longed to immerse himself in you until your peaches became his, something only he could experience–no one else, not even the stupid boys your age (especially them). He followed the same ritual on your neck, sighing to himself as he acknowledged how addictive your skin was there; you were highly addicted.

"Wait a minute," you murmured, your words drawn out and languid, almost like failed moans that would fade into silence. Your delicate fingers fumbled with his as you pulled the bikini string down, revealing more of your skin, though not in an obscene way. Even though his gaze was heavy in a way that it wasn't entirely clear. Soon, the piece was no longer there, but the view was limited by the way you were lying.

Understanding his place, he lightly rubbed sunscreen over the exposed area, subtly moving down your waist and barely grazing your hips. He felt as if he were touching porcelain, afraid that any poorly thought-out movement might shatter you. He gave your flesh a final gentle squeeze, and your abdomen contracted at the loss, accompanied by a soft murmur. Returning to his position, Alex chuckled to himself as he noticed how you kept your head closer to the towel you used as a pillow, your body not moving a single millimeter. It was then that he realized the process had taken longer than expected, you had fallen asleep.

He pulled his cap down over his face, a bit embarrassed, even though you couldn't see him. Adjusting his sunglasses back in place, he quietly watched you, taking in your calm breathing and relaxed posture. He took his own shirt, wrapping it over you, deciding that you had been in the sun long enough. He didn't touch you, knowing you were still asleep, but couldn't resist briefly brushing his fingertips against his lips and gently moving the strands of hair that covered your face. His gaze sharpened instinctively, and while he knew how to handle it if he were alone, you didn't deserve that side of his life.

It was quick—just a fleeting moment, a feeling of being watched, though he didn't hear any cameras or whispers. He didn't want to risk dismissing the thought, even if he couldn't see anyone nearby. Slowly, yet without hesitation, he gently called your name, softly stroking your arm. You responded by murmuring his name, manipulating a warm and soft sound, making him wonder if you were conscious of his presence or merely dreaming—of him. It took a while, but Alex remained patient until your eyes opened, startled. He then placed the cap on your head, carefully cradling you in his arms, being cautious not to disorient you further as he buttoned his shirt on you, doing so with as little awkwardness as possible. Despite touching your skin, he never once looked anywhere but your face, waiting for your arms to slip into the sleeves until you looked somewhat presentable.

"We're going to walk to the car, alright? It'll be quick," he said, his voice concerned, firm, and reassuring. He knew what he was doing, hoping to minimize the damage. You simply nodded, resting your tired cheek on his shoulder, and he chuckled softly. "Can you put on my sunglasses, please, little one?" You gave a sweet smile, making him internally berate himself for putting you in this situation. He placed the sunglasses on you, guiding your hands with his own, and kept you close. "Shall we? It'll be quick, promise and you can sleep on the way to the hotel, huh?" You appreciated his calm demeanor, respecting your groggy mood after just waking up.

He grabbed your bag, abandoning any attempt to save the newspaper, and drove his hand on the small of your back. Leaning into him for comfort, you felt him hold you tighter. Instinctively, you nuzzled your face into his chest, only to hear him say, "Okay, just don't get too close to her, alright?" His heart pounded against your ear, and you heard the sound of camera clicks. You didn't want to, nor could you, open your eyes. You couldn't make sense of the noise; the person continued taking photos, asking questions, and you couldn't tell if there was more than one of them.

Alex opened the car door, firmly guiding you until you were seated inside. He gently stroked your hair, noticing how visibly shaken you were. He quickly kissed your forehead. It was a brief, hurried gesture, one you wished you had more time to savor. You held onto his arm, unable to speak. "I'll close the door and come around; I'll be right beside you, and we'll head to the hotel, okay?" He was frustrated, angry, but it wasn't directed at you; he didn't want you to see these feelings of his. He should have been more careful, knowing that this was possible even with the band being on a break, but he had been careless.

Once inside the car, with the windows tinted completely black, ensuring no one could see in, he reached for your hand as he started the engine, holding it tightly as you looked at him, dazed, avoiding looking outside. "Does this happen often?" you asked, your voice small. His throat tightened with an irrepressible knot; he hadn’t considered how foreign all this was to you.

…

Alex’s head throbbed, the furrow between his eyebrows deep with tension. You sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped between your thighs, eyes filled with unshed tears as you looked at him. He had used his connections, calling to inform them of the situation and to request the removal of any photos of you from gossip sites if they had already been posted. He was told on the phone that it would be handled, which confirmed that the images had likely been uploaded.

Alex chose to make the call in the hallway, asking you to go ahead to the room, not wanting you to hear and worry more than you might have already. But as soon as he entered, it was clear you had seen something. Your fingers played with the hem of his shirt, lost in thought, and guilt washed over him.

"I can listen to you, pretty one," he said, his voice soft, showing a rare vulnerability as he assured you that he was there with you. He wanted to hear you out, to relieve any burden weighing on your shoulders.

"I know this happened because you’re well-known," you replied, swallowing hard as you struggled to find the right words. Alex waited, kneeling in front of you between your legs, his fingers lightly brushing your skin. He didn’t know exactly what to do, but hoped he could offer some comfort. The touch didn’t feel like a mistake—it was a natural act of reassurance, though the proximity made him feel conflicted. Yet, considering the situation, it seemed right.

"I’m really sorry, truly. It was careless of me," he apologized, his tone sincere. You shook your head, gently cupping his face in your hands, pushing his hair back. His warm, caramel eyes focused on you, filled with concern as you teetered on the edge of tears, a feeling he feared he didn’t fully understand.

"Tur, I might sound stupid, but—" You hesitated, then he responded with his usual tenderness, drawing you closer. Your legs wrapped around him, your arms holding him tight. He stroked your hair, helping you find comfort against him. The towel draped over his shoulders—since he had given you his shirt and didn't feel like walking around the hotel shirtless—slipped to the floor, and having his warmth was enough for you.

"If they like the album, which I really hope they do, and with all the pre-album promotion as an artist... I don’t want to sound ungrateful, huh, like, this whole journey with you has been amazing, but is it going to be normal to have so many people talking ‘bout me? Pictures of me without my consent? And comments about my appearance?" You couldn’t look at him, which made it easier for you to speak coherently without feeling embarrassed about opening up.

It was so much to process, and Alex hadn’t considered it from that angle. After all, he was the one who had brought you into this situation, both in the moment and for the long haul. You were young, and he didn’t want you to go through what he had at your age. He could have prevented this, but now you were caught up in it.

He kissed your forehead, then your eyelids, realizing just how intimately right—and wrong—this all felt. It was inevitable, and it shouldn’t have been. He pulled back slightly, only to give in when you tightened your hold, snuggling closer. You took his hand and placed it on your waist, your way of asking him for it to take longer, seeking more of his embrace. He chuckled softly, needing it just as much.

There wasn’t much to say. "I think you know the answer, little one. I wish it wasn’t like this either. I’m sorry for introducin’ you to this.”

Alex’s hands slid up and down your back, gripping the fabric and holding you tightly against him. Your sigh was one of relief, drawn out, so sweet. He cupped your chin, lifting your head to meet his gaze. Your cheeks were damp, and he offered a small, uncomfortable smile.

“It’s okay,” you said weakly, trying to sound more composed than you felt. “It’s not your fault, Turner. I don’t think that, and I don’t regret being here with you. I’m just scared of everything that’s going to come with this, especially since I never really thought about it before.” Your words seemed distant, but even in your emotional state, you were eloquent.

Alex didn’t know exactly what to expect either; things had changed since 2008. He remembered the Humbug era being the worst, with all the attention from MTV. His tongue rested on the roof of his mouth as your fingers found a home at the nape of his neck, gently tugging at the fine hairs, much like you do with the hem of your shirt when you’re anxious. It soothed you. Your eyes lowered to his chest, and you realized it was the first time you’d hugged him this longer, and he was shirtless. You liked everything about it—the warmth and the view you had.

He pulled the collar of your shirt toward him, bringing your face closer until his tiny beard tickled your skin. You looked at him, and he didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was staring right into your soul. You were beautiful with your red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Understanding what you were going through, he got you whispering amidst the chaos of finding the right words, “I can’t mess this up, Tur.”

He focused on your words, though he wanted to pull you into him even more, but he resisted, waiting for you to continue. “I want this too, I just don’t want you to think less of me, okay?” Your eyes welled up again, and as soon as you tried to lower your head, he gently lifted it back up, fully aware of what you were trying to convey. “I don’t want you to think I’m like this just because I’m interested in you. I don’t want you to see me as…” You paused, struggling with the words. He simply rested his forehead against yours, holding your face gently in his hands.

“I don’t think anything bad ‘bout you, lil’ one. I’ve never thought that way, and these are just your worries, you got me? Nothing changes the fact that I think you’re talented and competent, huh? That has nothing to do with how I see you as a professional. You don’t have to be afraid of that.” He was firm, his voice louder than usual. You took in every word, noting the roughness of his tone and the space between his lack of manners with sentences. He swallowed hard, his mouth slightly open, and you appreciated how patient he was with you, how well he seemed to understand that you needed this moment. Your fingers tightened on his, and then your lips met his. It was slow, and though you felt like you lacked experience, it was warm. He pulled you closer, every inch of you molding to him.

You started to pull away, embarrassed, feeling like maybe this wasn’t meant for you, but as soon as your lips began to leave his, he tugged your collar, bringing you back for a more urgent kiss, making it clear he had been waiting for this for a long time. You leaned back slightly, but he held you firmly, sensing how your body was softening against him. He chuckled into the kiss, and you felt his velvety tongue against yours, slowly being enveloped by wet, lingering kisses. The taste was salty from tears and the sea, you laughed at the thought of him being seasoned.

You brushed his fringe away, noticing how his cheeks were flushed and his lips swollen. You wanted more. You realized your brain hadn’t fully registered what it felt like to have his beard brushing against your face.

“Was it bad?” you asked, your voice barely audible. You couldn’t help but think about how Alex had been with many other women, while you could count on one hand the people you’d kissed in your life.

“Do you talk when you’re nervous?” His warm breath brushed against your skin, close enough to be unsettling. Before you could answer, he planted soft kisses on your lips, still making a slight sound and lingering just a bit. He tasted of mint, not quite of cigarettes. The tip of his nose grazed yours, and the subtle stubble on his face slid pleasantly against your cheek. When he pulled back, your natural reaction was to lean forward for more, which he didn’t resist, a playful smile on his lips as he let you set the pace. Your fingers seemed made for his hair, and Alex was sure of it. By the end, you were breathless, though he wasn’t quite as much.

“Okay, I need to breathe...through my nose while doing this.” He chuckled, pulling you close for a hug. You felt at ease with him, talking out of nerves, but it was clear it didn’t bother you. He liked that. “It’s not bad at all. It’s actually wonderful, pet.” He touched your nose and cheeks, his fingers tracing every feature, wanting to soak in each detail of you. “You’re beautiful,” he said. You nodded. He struggled to figure out if the way your eyes fluttered when he spoke to you like that was because of his voice or his compliments, yet he was determined to keep drawing those reactions from you.

He ran his calloused fingers up your thigh, stopping at your hips, squeezing them hard. Your nails dug into his shoulders in anticipation as your legs parted briefly, giving him better access and also making the fabric of your shirt give him more of a view. The bottom of your bikini was tight, very tight, leaving a mark on your skin and he ran his fingertips over the spot. You looked at him, thinking about how no one had ever looked at you like that; the mix of desire and actually seeing you as something more than that. You had written about it before, but never experienced it, and so you wondered about the possibility of Alex acting like that because he knew your writing. However, you didn't want to think badly of him, you wanted to enjoy it.

His gaze rose to meet yours, his tongue moistening his lips and the crease between his eyebrows deepening, was it fair that that alone made you wet? He didn't need to say anything, you confirmed what he wanted.

The attention lingered on your face, your heart racing at the serenity of how he undid the ties, getting rid of the piece. You couldn't move, taken by how delicate he was and his eyes on you didn't do the same, even though he didn't fail to contemplate you.

“Turner,” it was like a sob, a tiny sharp. His fingers touched your center, sighing as a way of savoring the moment, then he sank a little deeper, smearing his fingers and spreading them from your entrance to your clit to improve the sensation.

“It's all right, princess, I'm right ‘ere. I've got you, but we've got all the time in the world, so let's be patient, you're with me?" Each word was breathy and soft, difficult for you to string together, but you still repeated his last name in a pleading whisper.

He brushed two of his fingers against you, one of your legs lifting and bending at the knees, he laughed at your reactions but it was adorable, even though he was nothing much but his dark orbs. Respecting your body, he plunged his fingers deeper, sliding in easily. Your body gave in, your hands supporting you back and your moans getting hotter, you felt tighter but it still felt good.

"Relax, lil’ one. You can lie down, everything's fine, huh? You can just relax, no thoughts." His accent, full of patience, so familiar yet made you swallow hard. Alex’s fingers were damp, all along their length, carrying that blissful energy that comes with youth. Certainly, it could be said that you were not so used to that, the gap between doing something and thinking about it was great, given your state you had fantasized about it a few times; maybe you expected something he couldn't give you, but he was there for you.

He felt like an exception, he wasn't so young anymore, but he was acting like one. His fingers slid, you swallowed them completely, until your legs trembled a bit and he pulled back, only to repeat it all over again. He was touching you, getting to know you, and thinking about how he would be tasting your juices on his tongue in a few seconds, getting you ready to have him inside of you without any concern... He throbbed with each glimpse.

He couldn't deny that he had fantasized about you too, how he wanted to corrupt you while you were wearing your usual spaghetti strap dresses, hike them up to your waist and just pull down his pants to take you in the studio, have your voice fade away while instruments were thrown to the floor. He would get heavy, swollen with sensitivity in his underwear when he thought about you from time to time, refusing to do anything that bordered on disrespect, and even if he failed, he followed a ritual in his light groping, looking for relief, without letting himself get there as punishment. He never felt right thinking about you that way, but it seemed like a plausible moment to let himself be reminded of it.

Your eyes were closed, your face to the ceiling, your head pressed into the mattress in agony. You weren't expecting it, but your muscles clenched tighter into the sheets, this was new; you knew what it was, it just had never been like this. There were brief kisses on your wetness, noisy and messy, his hair brushed against your thigh and his hands were firmly on you. You had never seen yourself without thinking about anything, not literally, but your senses only hovered over how to be good for Turner so he could make you feel great.

For Alex, it was better than he remembered imagining. It was hard to breathe when all he could do was focus on keeping going, listening to your sweet whimpers for more. The vivid scent of peach filled his senses, your taste taking over his consciousness, everything felt so good.

He sank his tongue, contracting it hard so that it dissolved inside you and felt in honor how you dripped down the sides of his mouth. He held the edges of your shirt tightly, pushing you closer to him, his nose brushing against your clit while his whole face rubbed all over your folds with desire. Your fingers tightened in his hair, gripping hard as you called out his name, the words barely coherent. You focused on him with a dazed expression, your gaze hazy and unfocused. His face was serene, eyes closed in deep enjoyment, completely immersed in your taste. You shifted a little, although he soon forced you against the mattress so you wouldn't do that, wanting to feel his beard hurt your skin. In fact, boys your age, or at least your experiences, did that very quickly, as an obligation. Alex was not a boy.

"You're so addictive," your throat was dry. Alex hadn't even done half of what he had in mind with you; and you certainly couldn't handle it.

He turned his face away due to your trembling knees, holding your gaze to his. He wanted you to get there, but in another way. Still, he watched you as he pressed only the tips of his fingers on your clit, without movements other than those of your hips. “So smart and charming, is there anything you can't do?” You pulsed, electric current going through your entire body.

You didn't know what to do, your cheeks were burning and you could only moisten your lips, wanting the agonizing knot to disappear.

“Turner,” he laughed, the same nasal sound you loved. It was like a mantra, the repetition of the drawn-out last name coming out of you and the cocky laugh. “Please, I need it, I need you, Tur.”

He nodded, stiff and sore in his shorts, then stood up and pulled them off. He didn’t look in a hurry to you, it gave you a headache, but he was nice to look at; his pale skin, his slim waist, his shoulders red from your scratches and his reddened length. He was hot and well-endowed, good enough to make your mouth water.

"Have you done this before?" His friendly tone made you hate your thoughts, and also question if you actually had. His cheeks were flushed, as were his lips, and he swallowed hard while looking at you. You felt a bit embarrassed. "It's okay if you haven't, princess." You smiled softly, shaking your head. "A few times, but it was never good. But this time, it is." Alex understood; he didn't judge you and never would. He ran his hand through your hair, brushing it away from your face, then gently tugged at the collar of your shirt, pulling it slightly away from your skin. "Are your songs not based on your experiences?" You feared he might think that was a bad thing, but his voice didn't carry any judgment. "No..." You sighed, content with his touch and his body pressed to yours. "I don't think I've ever truly experienced love, at least not directly. But I like writing about how I hope it will be." His eyes were a bit misty, and he nodded. He found that meaning beautiful; it was a perspective he hadn't considered before. He didn't feel so distant from that, since he wrote about things he'd witnessed. "It's beautiful. You do it really well.”

He opened the buttons, one by one, taking his time. He revealed your body to him little by little, admiring your collarbone, the curve of your breasts and stomach. His lips touched every nuance, leaving a wet trail and a bite on the flesh below your perky nipple. You writhed with a shrill noise, your legs clinging to him, ready to feel him as he brushed against your thigh. Alex also moaned every now and then, much more restrained and full-bodied, so hoarse.

He held your face to him, preventing you from turning away. The weight of his body felt good, everything about Alex felt like being enveloped in calm; even though you didn't expect calm at that moment. He opened his mouth, perhaps as thirsty as you were, his tongue on the roof of his mouth, staring at you. Slow and precise, you had your muscles soften as he got warm and tight inside you. You swallowed greedily, wet as never before, taking every inch of him.

“Good pet, good girl.” You held onto him tighter, your eyes watering. He held your head, snuggling you close to him. "You're doing great, you're such a good girl, right? Focus on how I'm inside you, filling you to the brim, can you feel me, lil’ one?” He was hoarser, unavoidable not to pay attention. His voice really calmed you down, making it work, your legs rested slowly and you noticed he was more comfortable in you; fitting better.

He held your hand on top of your head, intertwining your fingers, letting you squeeze tightly. Your body rocked on the bed with the rhythm of his hips, the movement was slow, he let his entire length come out of you like that and then pressed harder so you could accommodate him all the way into your lower tummy. It was good, warm, it made you think of more and more until you felt your belly tingle. Alex had a prominent crease, his pink lips parted and he gasped along with you every time your bones collided. Unable to hold back, he sped up, letting you whisper a painful, "Thank you," which made him release your hand, gripping your wrist violently as his forehead fell onto your shoulder. You stained the back of his neck with bruises, wanting your fist to come out the same way.

Your hot breath came in short gasps, you tried to be coherent in shyly mumbling that he could come inside you; wanting to have him fill you to the last drop until you were exhausted. Which wouldn't be a problem, you took your precautions up to date.

The intensity of his body on yours was growing, similar to the arrival of guitar solos in a chorus; you had to close your eyes, really paying attention to how your walls squeezed him inside you. Your firm thighs around him, added to the strength with which he thrusted you, caused friction on your clit and you were becoming aware of your limits. You felt Alex hug you again, delicate arms around you, wetting your shirt in soft moans as he filled you warmly. The sensation, the noise, everything connected made you relieve yourself too, in a relaxation of having both liquids mixing, ready to run out of you. He slowed down, keeping the same ritual, making you feel your thighs sticky until he realized you were getting too sensitive with tears filling your pretty eyes, and it was better to stop.

There was the familiar, comfortable silence that always settled between you two, both of you immersed in each other's presence. The embrace was gentle yet firm. He was comfy, still inside you, pulsing a bit, but good. His hand moved in meaningful circles on your back, and you mirrored the motion on his arm. His hair was a mess, and you imagined yours probably was too. His swollen lips drew in air as before, making you contemplate the way his tongue rested against the roof of his mouth.

"Can you lick me, Tur?" You asked comfortably given the situation, feeling good all over his touch.

He ran his hand over your chin, looking at you, not finding it bad. You hesitated when you asked, but it seemed inevitable. He moistened his lips, touching the tip of his tongue to your mouth, right on the lower one, holding your face firmly and doing what you said. The velvety, wet touch ran down your lip and into your mouth, which made you smile slightly, holding him for a kiss. It was good, you had imagined that. He sucked your lip to himself, in a somewhat messy act of saliva, and you wanted to do it more often.

“You good?” It was a genuine intimacy, right after a few minutes of nothing but the pure sound of his heartbeat echoing in your ear. You couldn’t help but wonder if this would affect how professional he thought you were—after all, he was your mentor—but you didn’t want to bring that up now. Similarly, feeling the way his shirt clung to your body, brushing against his skin and stealing your scent, he wondered the same thing, afraid you might truly believe you weren’t talented enough due to the internet and that this had only made things worse in your mind. Yet, he didn’t know what to say; the silence felt safe. "I’m okay, Tur. Tired, but I don’t want to think about songs, albums, or what we’ll do in an hour right now." You nestled closer to him, kissing his cheek softly, then his neck. Your voice was laced with tears, and he wasn’t sure if it was about what happened minutes ago or the issue with the paparazzi, but he understood that you were vulnerable. He felt guilty, still processing everything. "I’m not going to leave you, little one. I’ll be ‘ere, to deal with this and remind you how good you are." He whispered into your hair that smelled of peaches. You believed him, and he made you see a future in all of this.

You could have him on the cover of your album.

...

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#alex turner x reader #alex turner smut #alex turner #arctic monkeys #alex turner fanfic #alex turner imagine #alex turner fluff

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munson-blurbs · 2 months

Text

@corrodedcoffinfest Day 24: Behind the Scenes

Word Count: 701/Rating: T/Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader/CW: Eddie's got a crush, theatre girl!Reader, reader wears a dress, one dirty joke thanks to Gareth/Tags: Eddie Munson, Gareth, Grant, Jeff, theatre girl!Reader, Principal Higgins

Divider credit to @silkholland

“This is all your fault,” Gareth hissed at Eddie. “I should be behind the bleachers, making out with Annie right now.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, swiping a paint brush over a two-by-four. “Sure, blame the guy standing up to The Man. Let’s not consider that Principal Higgins was the one who banned us from the talent show.”

Jeff hiked up his sleeves and grabbed the nearest hammer, ready to construct the Scarecrow’s perch. “Higgins didn’t ‘ban’ us,” he countered. “He just told us we couldn’t play War Pigs.”

“And that’s better?” Eddie shook his head. “No, we were given freedom of speech for a reason! We should be able to play whatever we goddamn want!”

Mrs. Porter, the school play’s director, glared at him and shushed. Eddie held up his hands in surrender, but continued complaining in a loud whisper.

“All I’m saying is, if he didn’t want us putting on our own lunchtime performance, he should’ve let us do our thing at the talent show.”

“I think the lunch ladies enjoyed it,” Grant chimed in, earning himself a thwack in the back of the head from Jeff.

Eddie was about to thank him for his support, but a flash of pink caught his eye. You were standing in front of the girl playing Dorothy and twirling in your Glinda dress. After a few spins, you got dizzy, and Dorothy caught you as you both burst into laughter.

Gareth resumed his rant, oblivious to Eddie’s sudden smittenness. “I’d rather play Girls Just Wanna Have Fun than build sets for the fuckin’ school play.” He held the perch in place so Jeff could hammer in the nail. “At least we could write lyrics and plan campaigns in regular deten–are you even listening to me?”

“Huh?” Eddie blinked a few times, snapping himself out of his daze. “Yeah. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. Got it.”

“What’re you looking at?” Grant peered around one of the fighting trees, his face splitting into a grin when he saw. “Oh, that’s why you’re not pitching a fit about this set design detention.”

Jeff batted his eyelashes flirtatiously. “Eddie, do you have the hots for the fairy princess?”

“Shut up!” Eddie grumbled. “And she’s not a fairy princess; she’s Glinda the Good Witch.”

The backup guitarist put up his hands in mock surrender. “My apologies.”

“You gonna ask her to play with your wand?” Gareth snickered, but he quickly stopped once Eddie shot him a look that could kill.

You disappeared back into the makeshift dressing room, and Eddie let out a silent sigh of relief. He might not be able to stare at you from afar, but at least he could think about you without the guys interfering. The subject naturally shifted to the songs they wanted to add to their setlist for their Hideout gigs, and Eddie was in the clear.

Until.

“Those look great!”

Eddie’s head shot up at the sound of your voice. His cheeks reddened and his mouth relaxed into a sheepish grin.

“Thanks, yeah. I’m not much of an artist–like, a painting artist. I band. Um, I mean, I play in a band. So, like, music artist. I do music. Yeah.”

You raised your eyebrows, clearly unsure how to interpret his rambling. “Well, a music artist is still an artist.”

“Yeah.” Christ, Munson; is that the only word you know?

Gareth was more than happy to supply further conversation. “Sorry, he’s kind of an idiot around girls he’s hopelessly in love with.”

‘I hate you’ was perched on Eddie’s tongue, but you stepped in. You paid no attention to the menace-formerly-known-as-Gareth as you spoke directly to Eddie. “Well, we always need music artists to help make the orchestra pit fuller. If you’re interested.”

“No–I mean, yeah, I’m interested. Super interested.” The paint brush clattered to the ground, but he barely noticed. “Where do I sign up?”

As Eddie followed you to where the orchestra conductor was tuning violins, Gareth leaned closer to the two remaining bandmates. “Think it’s a good idea to tell him that Higgins is technically the reason why he got to talk to his dream girl?”

Jeff clapped a hand on the drummer’s back. “Good luck with that.”

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #fanfic #corroded coffin #corroded coffin fest #eddie munson x reader #jeff corroded coffin #gareth emerson #grant corroded coffin

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81folklore · 1 year

Text

happiness - CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x ex!reader (fc: sabrina carpenter + pintrest) part 2

summary: releasing a song about your ex might finally stop the rumors surrounding your breakup (or: you release happiness about your ex charles leclerc)

authors note: this is my first ever post (and social media au) so please bear with me as im still figuring this all out!!) i dont use proper grammer and may mispell things!! the song ‘happiness’ by taylor is one of my faves so i had to use it, i am interpreting the song in a very specific way to fit the story! i do not own ‘happiness’ nor any song mentioned in this fic. it ended up longer than expected im so sorry😅

masterlist

yourusername

liked by annacathcart, henrymoodie and 1,550,456 others

its times like these wish i had a time machine,, i will miss you guys SO MUCH!! buuuut we are going international for the first time and i cannot wait to share my music with all you beautiful people🌟

see you soon paris & link for tickets in bio💌

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user5 cannot wait to see you in paris!!

user7 this tour has been one of the best things to ever happen to me, cant wait to scream nonsense at you once again🫶

user10 genuinely cant stand her after what she put charles through

user9 what are you talking about? their breakup was mutual

user10 seems like she doesnt care which means it clearly hasnt affected her

henrymoodie so excited to be opening for you in europe!

yourusername youre in for a treat tour mate🫣

user2 sigh i miss her and landos interactions

charles_leclerc

liked by olliebearman, arthur_leclerc and 1,164,121 others

definitely not the result we were hoping for but thank you for making my home race as special as always, onto the next one!

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user10 you tried your best which is all we ask

user3 i missed yn this week, home race didnt feel the same😔

user1 i thought it felt different, he seemed very distracted this weekend

user13 at least you finished the race (im coping badly)

user4 we love you charles keep pushing❤️🤍FORZA FERRARI

yourusername

liked by newhopegeorge, landonorris and 2,025,754 others

how am i supposed to leave you now that you’re already over..

paris you were so so lovely what did i do to deserve you guys :’) next stop brussels💌

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user89 talented, brilliant, incredible, show stopping, spectacular, wonderful, amazing!!

user52 forever missing you💌

user71 ok but yn why were you teasing a new song at the show…

yourusername shhhh

landonorris super proud of you

yourusername thank youuu landooo

user2 my prayers have been answered woooo

user46 i feel like i missed something, are lando and yn friends?

user5 yeah! lando was how yn met charles and theyve been friends for a few years now

ynupdates

liked by user5, user16 and 13,456 others

yn on a new song she plans to release soon tonight at brussels ‘ive been writing a song for a while that really just helps explain the way ive been feeling these past few months, it was very therapeutic to write and ive really enjoyed the process!’ and when asked what the song was about she said ‘its about someone who will always mean alot to me, they know who they are and thats enough for me!’

she seemed very happy to be able to talk about it so expect more updates about that soon! next stop cologne, grab your tickets from the link in our bio💌

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user5 i cannot wait for new music

user16 what if she performs it on tour huh? what then? WHAT THEN??

user15 it’s definitely about charles, she had that same smile she wore when talking about him previously☹️

yourusername

liked by vicdeangelis, lizzymcalpine, arthur_leclerc and 2,450,470 others

i cant make it go away by making you a villain, i guess its the price i paid for seven years in heaven…

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user5 these have to be song lyrics right??

user7 sounds like it might be about charles🤨

user10 not more music about charles, at least he gets free promo from them..

arthur_leclerc we miss you

yourusername i miss you guys too!! come to a show soon?

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc social media au #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 insta au #lando norris x reader #x reader #social media au #formula 1 social media au #formula 1 insta au #charles leclerc #ex!yn!charles

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hyunluvbug · 1 year

Text

i need you - one

pairing: bang chan x afab reader

content: 🔞NSFW, MDNI!! established relationship, hint of corruption kink, virgin!reader, hickeys, dry humping, oral (f receiving)

word count: 1.6k

a/n: this is my first series and i hope you guys enjoy what more is to come. it is only going to be three or four parts so fairly short ish.

dating chan is nothing but pure comfort. he is yours and you are his. everything about being with him made you feel giddy inside. your relationship is nothing more than pure love. he is someone you trust completely and never question. someone you can hold to a high standard and know he will always follow it.

you both are still learning new things about each other. you learn all the time how dedicated he is to his job. he enjoys making music and you love being there when he does. you visit him all the time at the studio, just to watch him in his element. he always lets you listen to what he is working on and it always is a hit in your eyes. he is so talented and you remind him anytime he struggles. sometimes while he's working, he'll get frustrated. his face will go into a pout and his eyebrows will scrunch up. a tell tale sign he is struggling with lyrics or even the composition of the song.

when you notice this, you try your best to help him and reassure him that he is capable of anything. he has already made so many great songs so why be afraid to try something new. this is why he loves having you there, being able to hear the input from someone he loves is amazing. days like this are where you really realize how in love you are with him. he's sitting with his back towards you, clicking away on his computer. you're sitting on the sofa behind him, reading a book, or just scrolling through your phone. finding comfort in just having his presence with you.

the studio is where both of you end up hanging out a lot together. the studio being his hotspot, he barely leaves it and only does to get food, use the bathroom or go to bed. today, is just like any other day. you are sitting on the couch, your feet curled up under you. you're scrolling through your tiktok for you page. making sure the volume isn't too loud to disturb the boy at the computer. the many clicks of his mouse fill the room as well as the squeak of his desk chair.

you can feel his frustration from where you're sitting. many sighs leaving his lips as you watch him delete and add new lines of lyrics. his shoulders hunched over onto the desk, clearly showing his stress. you place your phone onto the couch and stand up. you make your way over to him and you feel his body relax when your hand touches his shoulder.

"hey, you okay?" you peck his cheek.

"yeah, just having some troubles with lyrics." he sighs below you. you place your hand onto his cheek and he nuzzles into it.

"need a break?"

"please."

you see this as an invitation to sit in his lap. his hands rest on your waist and he looks up into your eyes. you begin to place kisses all over his face, causing his face to scrunch up. giggles falling from his lips.

"is this a good distraction?"

"yes." he chuckles, his hands run up your back soothingly as you continue placing kisses on his face. then you move to his neck and he lets out a tiny moan.

"oh, i think i hit a sweet spot." you tease and continue kissing there. he lets out heavy sighs as you begin to suck on his skin, hoping to leave a hickey behind.

"you're going to drive me crazy."

"what if i want to?" you mumble against his skin. then chan, pulls your face away. he places a hand on your cheek, his thumb rubbing the soft skin.

"then you'll be in trouble."

you stare at him in shock of his reply but it excites you. you and chan have never had sex. most of it having to do with you being a virgin and not knowing when the correct time was. chan didn't ever want to make you feel rushed to have sex with him. he never insinuated anything sexual and stopped make outs before they ever got too heated. but, you always wish he would make a step towards that direction and right now, your heart is pounding. you can feel tingles in places that you never felt for someone else before.

"what if i wanna be in trouble?"

now chan looks at you surprised, "oh yeah?"

you begin to feel a dull ache in your core. starting to imagine what it would be like to be with chan sexually. it excites you. so much that you don't even notice that you're grinding into his lap. he lets out a groan beneath you.

"fuck baby, we can't do this in here. i will be damned if we start anything in this studio."

"then maybe we should go home." you plead, looking up at him with puppy eyes. of course he can't say no to you.

"i guess the song can wait until tomorrow."

you leap up from his lap, excited to head home. you don't even notice that chan has an erection.

----

when you get back home, it gets semi awkward. for many reasons really. you aren't quite sure what to even do as you have never done any of it. of course you're not completely innocent to sexual activities. but you just have no experience what so ever. frankly, chan finds it adorable and is secretly getting off to the fact he will be the only to take your virginity. that you will always be his and no one else's.

"i say we start by kissing and see where it goes from there." chan says, you both sitting together on the bed. you nod happily with a smile and he smiles back, his dimples showing.

"come here." he whispers and presses his lips to yours. the feeling is just as amazing as it was the first time. his lips fitting to yours and sending flutters throughout your heart.

the kisses soon turn needy and sloppy. little whimpers falling from your lips. he place you into his lap and retss his hands on your waist. he moves your hips over him, the friction making your eyes droop. your hips roll down into him quicker.

"fuck chan."

he smirks as he watches your face contort in pleasure. loving how pretty you look just for him. he begins to place some kisses down your neck as you continue to move in his lap. he sucks on a section of your neck, returning the favor you gave him earlier.

"baby, can i eat you out?" chan suddenly asks and your face gets hot. you nod and he begins to unbutton your jeans. he slides them down your legs and lays you down onto the bed.

he sees a wet spot on your underwear that has already developed. he places his finger on the spot and begins to rub. the feeling of someone else's touch drives you crazy. and he's not even touching it bare. he rubs onto your clit, the feeling driving you insane.

"chan, please."

"please what?"

"s-shit, i want your tongue."

"ask and you shall receive."

he pulls down your underwear and tosses them to the side. he scoots down until his face is near your pussy. he blows air on it and it makes you twitch. a soft giggle falls from his lips, that also making you twitch.

"channn."

"okay okay."

he places his hands onto your thighs and then dives in. his tongue licks up your core and your slit. the feeling makes your eyes begin to roll, his tongue feels like heaven. it feels like something you have never felt before. you can feel his nose nudge at your clit while his tongue delves deeper into your cunt. your wetness growing even more and mixing with his saliva.

"fuck fuck." you moan and he hums. his tongue presses against your clit and you squirm above him.

"feels so good holy fuck."

chan continues licking, letting your wetness coat his tongue. the taste is divine and he is already addicted to it.

"i want you to cum for me." he says and he stares up into your eyes. his eyes on you are what sends you closer to your high. his eyes stay on you as he licks quicker and quicker. his tongue going inside and out of your cunt, delving into your walls.

you feel your eyes roll as you begin to reach your peak. "im go-gonna cum." you sigh and then you let it go.

chan licks up every drop, loving how much pleasure he is able to give you. he pulls away and sits up. his dimples are showing as he stares down at you, your laying down onto the bed. your arms splayed out in tiredness, it all felt so good. he felt so good. chan scoots up further to lay with you, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"how was that baby?" he presses a kiss to the side of your neck. right over the spot he left a hickey.

"amazing." you reply feeling breathless. your chest moves up and down as you let out heavy breaths until it slows down. chan cuddles up into you as you finally come off the feeling.

"i didn't get to do anything for you though." you realize and turn towards him.

"don't worry, we have all the time in the world to do other things. i just wanted to please you, i'll let you do something for me next time." he reassures and buries his face into your neck.

you feel satisfied with his answer as you know there is more time to make love with him. you couldn't wait.

#stray kids imagine #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #kpop smut #skz smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagine #bang chan smut #chan smut #chan x reader #chan imagines

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merbear25 · 7 months

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Them fawning over a musician

After some time, you've finally made a name for yourself in the music industry, albite still not the biggest star. At one of your gigs, you catch someone's attention who just so happens to be a well-known pirate.

CW: SFW, gn!reader, headcanons, suggestive in Kid's

Zoro, Sanji, Law, Kid

Zoro: The type of music: folk/indie. He enjoys the traditional aspects of folk and feels like it paints a story of that area or country. Likes that indie has no restraints, leaving more control in the hands of the artist.

Walking through the city center, tunes started fading in from the distance. He followed them and came up on a small crowd of people, who were listening to you with contemptment. You were radiating confidence with each note played and sang.

Watching you preform wasn't just entertaining, it was admirable. You'd clearly put a lot of thought into your stage presence: the melody was pleasant, the lyrics were meaningful, and your voice was breathtaking.

After your performance, he casually approached you. Upon seeing him, you couldn't help feeling at least a little intimidated—a large man marching up to you who has scars and also carries three swords would cause anyone to take a step back. However, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. The question was innocent; he came to ask you about a verse in your song.

You two ended up having a genuinely interesting conversation. Without realizing how much time had passed, you offered to grab a drink (your treat), so that you could continue this in a more comfortable setting. He shrugged at your suggestion but accepted none the less. You were not prepared for the tab that would be waiting for you.

Sanji: The type of music: blues/jazz. He would admire the soul and emotion that goes into the lyrics and playing of the instruments. Can get caught up in the passion of those performing on stage.

He was out shopping for a few ingredients but decided to pop into a cavern for a drink. Once ordering, that night's talent started. You didn't have his full attention at first: the beginning of your first song was instrumental. His head was bobbing along to the tune, but when he heard your voice, he became entranced.

Promptly turning towards the stage, the realization of being in the presence of a rising star was more than aparent. The emotion being conveyed in your voice tugged at his heart strings. The slight sway of your hips were mesmerizing.

Even though he wasn't far from the stage, he needed to be closer to fully appreciate your elegance. So as not to have his view of you obstructed by other onlookers, he took a seat near the front of the stage.

When your final song came to a close, he was left feeling astonished, so much so that he forgot to applaud. You shot a charming grin his way, which instantly bewitched him. He took that as an invitation to come and talk to you. Complimenting each and every aspect of you and your talent, he managed to stay gentlemanly, although he'd jump at the opportunity to swoon over you if you let him.

Law: The type of music: pop/rock. He would never admit it, but he loves the upbeat side of pop. Even though rock is very different to pop, it shows the raw emotion that he can connect with.

There was an event being held downtown that just so happened to be taking place during one of his outtings. From the first note, he snapped his body towards the direction of the stage. Momentarily forgetting where he was and what he was doing, he made his way to you, only being led by your allure.

He would know exactly who you are. Not just that, but he'd secretly be your biggest fan. Despite standing in awe while you were preforming, he'd be suppressing his excitement throughout it all. Showcasing it wasn't his style, though he was still anchored at the corner of the stage, mouth gaping from the sheer bewilderment.

When you finished, he awkwardly loomed around the stage. It was hard to ignore what with his pacing back and forth and hesitation. He just seemed overly nervous to you, so you opted against giving him the cold shoulder.

You asked him if he liked the show, making him gasp quietly. After you acknowledged him, he found the courage to ask you for an autograph. You gladly wrote one out for him and ended up chit chatting a bit, mostly one sided since he's still a bit starstruck.

Kid: The type of music: punk/metal. Probably headbangs to it in his free time but also listens to it casually when he's tinkering in his workshop. He gets worked up and ready to take everyone on.

This city was just intended to be a quick pit stop to reload on resources. The sun was already setting which signaled to the Kid Pirates that it was about time to crack open a few cold ones. While taking a short-cut through an alley, a flashy poster caught Kid's eye. No fucking way. One of the bands he jams to was playing in this city? Tonight?? Snatching it off the wall, he rushed off.

Upon reaching the, somewhat, junkyard where your band was playing, he unabashedly shoved his way to the very front. Hearing how heavy your band memebers were coming down on the instruments and the rasp in your voice made the beast within him unleash. He would undoubtedly be the one to start a mosh pit, and in doing so, you wouldn't be able to take your eyes off of him.

After he was satisfied with the chaos he'd spread throughout the crowd, you received his undivided attention. When your eyes met, you gave him a sly smirk for the mess he'd caused. Seeing that gave him the ego boost he needed to chat you up after the show.

Following the last song, you were met with a more than eager Kid waiting for you. You sauntered your way over to him, cooly asking if he liked what he saw. Leaning in closer to you, Kid now had the impulsive idea to get with you. He wasn't being subtle about his intentions in the slightest, leaving the ball in your court.

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prettyoddfever · 2 months

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re: the Fever-era stage gay routines

I'm integrating a previous post into this one so I can cover all of the pre-split years and everything in one place. Again, I'm iffy on the term "stage gay" but idk how else to describe it so here we go.

So Brendon said this quote in 2018: "For our first headline tour I would go up to Ryan our guitar player, and like kiss him on the neck or kiss him on the mouth and he would be so mad. I was like, I just want to kiss you bro."

Ignoring all history & precedent of the way that Brendon tends to exaggerate for effect and often goes for the general idea & how he feels at the moment when looking back rather than actual specific facts... he's still talking about the band's first headlining tour in April 2006. And yeah, that's the only season where I think this quote MIGHT be plausible. If the situation actually played out exactly as Brendon says, then of course that's not ok. But you still can't project that scenario onto literally every part of the Fever era or form your entire perception of a whole era (or an entire work relationship) off of one single interview quote from years later. That's going to leave you with an incredibly distorted understanding of the band's dynamics with each other & fans, Ryan's input and stage presence, and what's actually going on in the pictures you're looking at. Like people are clearly missing so much context if they're able to look at a picture of the IWSNT mic-sharing from summer 2006 and think that it was one-sided sexual harassment (or some kind of actual Ryden thing).

THE EARLY MONTHS

So the guys weren’t super close onstage in late 2005… they were mostly trying to figure out how to even be onstage lol. They watched the bands they were touring with and learned as they went. You could almost see little pieces of each band’s influence show up for a while. Brendon totally modeled himself after Jason Vena in early fall 2005, and then he had clearly been watching William Beckett closely in early 2006 (that influence carried on throughout the year). It was also interesting to watch Brendon navigate what he thought fans wanted or expected when he was an 18-year-old boy thrown into an international spotlight with girls (and boys) screaming “f— me!” at him (one example). It really looked like he learned to play into a role (this is included). And I mean that in terms of being a popular frontman. That’s not even taking into consideration the actual way that Brendon needed to adopt a persona onstage throughout the whole Fever era. Look at the type of songs he had to sing. Both Brendon & Ryan talked a lot in 2005-2006 about how Brendon needed to get into a character onstage to deliver the risque lyrics.

The types of halfhearted moves that Brendon started to make on Ryan by the end of the Truckstops & Statelines tour looked like he was just following the example of bands he’d been watching on tour. Brendon started making bigger moves on Ryan in April once P!ATD had to step up their game for their first headlining tour (which happened 8 months after they played their first show ever). That UK tour had some shows that were bigger than the first half of the summer tour in North America. There were times in 2006 when I felt like P!ATD was more of a UK band than American partially because of how intense the frenzy was over there.

Brendon was still testing different stage personas and figuring things out during this season, and the band still felt like 4 separate guys trying to find their footing. They were talented & good, but there was absolutely a huge shift in the band itself once Jon arrived in May. They finally felt like a strong united group. They went back to their practice space for a while in May to figure out the details of what they wanted their band to be like onstage, rehearse with their two new touring musicians + Lucent Dossier, and re-learn updated versions of their songs. The last half of the Fever era was polished and very intentional... they felt like a different band by June in many ways.

THE SUMMER TOUR

I thought this seemed like the picture that really got the Ryden craze going in summer 2006 (before fans had totally decided on the “Ryden” name – some were saying “Bryan”). It was taken a few days into the summer tour:

There were a ton of new fans arriving during the summer tour, so that picture formed some first impressions. By this summer many fans would basically only ask people to describe the moments when Ryan & Brendon came near each other at a show and every look they shared. People who went to shows would mention how at different points they saw one of the four guys suppress a laugh when the crowd would positively scream if Brendon & Ryan came within two feet of each other.

The Panic guys were well aware of what their fans wanted and what was being said online (for better or worse). Yes, they got annoyed during the last half of the year when fans took things too far or were focused more on Ryden stuff than the music, but it seemed like they also wanted to have fun with a fanbase that they were being increasingly distanced from as they became more & more famous. There were quite a few stories of Brendon and Ryan playing up the Ryden angle at meet & greets throughout the last half of 2006 to make fans laugh or freak out (and Ryan initiated some of that, so it wasn’t purely Brendon). There's more in this post.

The point is that the shows in this tour were very intentional and felt more like watching a theater show than the type of band who interacted with their audience (which was a huge fan complaint this season tbh). Ryan was more confident & comfortable onstage with his new makeup, was actively engaging in mic sharing and playing into what the crowds obviously wanted to see, and seemed like he was largely in control of how the shows would go even if he still sometimes shied away from attention in general onstage.

Ryan & Brendon did continue some of their antics at random international shows in August & October, but it kind of seemed to depend on the audience. Those shows were also a different vibe from the national tours.

NOTHING RHYMES WITH CIRCUS

This season was on a whole other level, so here's a separate post that goes into important detail!!

^^^ seriously, please read.

The creepy leering character that Brendon was playing during the NRWC tour is obviously not his actual personality, nor his typical onstage character for the whole Fever era (although I did see hints of it return during the 2008 Halloween show when Brendon was in his vampire costume lol).

AFTER THE FEVER ERA

The band played a handful of regular shows in 2007 like any other band. They wore jeans and dropped the stage gay & makeup because those elements were part of the Fever-era shows and that era was done now.

Ryan did try to instigate parts of their former routine at the first show in 2007 before the band had found their new direction, though.

Brendon kissed Ryan on the cheek at Bamboozle 2007 when wishing him a happy birthday.

The Pretty. Odd. era was completely different on so many levels. Ryan & Jon largely ran those shows and the new music didn’t require a dramatic frontman in an entertainer/narrator role anymore. Ryan was WAY more confident onstage and would often stroll over to mess with Brendon or share his mic. Ryan was the one who often instigated any interaction. Jon even slapped Brendon’s butt at some shows. A lot of fans would claim that Ryan kissed Brendon’s cheek, but in hindsight I think it’s more likely that he was whispering to Brendon and knew that fans would get overly excited. Also, the moment where Brendon kissed Ryan’s cheek before Mad as Rabbits at Glastonbury was definitely not the norm.

ABOUT THE ROUTINE "RYDEN" MOMENTS IN 2008 (not on the same level as 2006, but still pandering to what fans wanted).

COMMON FEVER ERA MOMENTS

a few examples...

youtube

MISC. THOUGHTS

The point of this post is to show that the endless pictures that some people might share of "Ryden" moments or "Brendon sexually harassing Ryan" are often like the same points of the same songs on different nights, or just taken out of context of the actual Fever era. To be clear, I’m not attempting to excuse/explain every single thing Brendon ever did in this post, or attempting to speak for Ryan... idk what he was comfortable with or everything that went down between them.

However, I do think that people who assume Brendon forced Ryan into anything (in any aspect of the band) don’t understand their work relationship or the pre-split band’s dynamics & who had the power. That band was waaaay different than the one that Brendon had in later years. Back then he wasn’t really in a position to pressure Ryan into anything creatively-speaking (more info here). Ryan was shy in interviews, but he was in no way a pushover within the band… and to assume something like that kind of discredits his massive contributions. With the amount of control that Ryan had, I just really don’t think he would have let something so prominent get worked into the shows if he wasn’t ok with it in the first place (let alone instigate it himself sometimes).

Ryan talked a lot in the pre-split years about how he really wanted to challenge fans, push boundaries, do something different, shake things up, and keep experimenting instead of settling into a rut of what was comfortable/familiar. In a Danish interview in October 2006 he said "we do not want to be a safe band, neither with our songs nor our shows."

I thought the stage gay element seemed to loosely fit into those goals & ideas. But at the same time, I don't think it was ever that defined. It felt like it was just a random fun thing & wasn't that deep. Spin asked Ryan if he and Brendon were toying with the idea of bisexuality, which was a bit annoying because their antics obviously weren't that legit or a Serious Statement. I liked Ryan's answer:

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eiightysixbaby · 2 years

Text

i've got you under my skin now

word count: 2.9k

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x rockstar!fem!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI. SMUT SMUT SMUT. kind of asshole!eddie but he's really just a moody baby, oral (m receiving), masturbation, reader and eddie argue but everything is consensual, really just absolute filth with a plot.

summary: you're an up-and-coming musician in the rock scene and have been asked to join corroded coffin on a song. only thing is, their singer - eddie munson - proves to be challenging to collaborate with.

author's note: my first lengthier work so sorry in advance if there are errors! this is a daisy jones and the six inspired one-shot, and for the sake of this fic i directly reference the title and lyrics of the song 'honeycomb' from the tv show - but you really don't need to know the book/show to understand. ok anyways hope u all like it and here u go @taintedcigs i know u've been waiting for this one em i hope u love it!!

“Honestly Eddie, I don’t care anymore! I’m not listening to your little rockstar tantrum. She’s coming in, and she’s joining you on the song. That’s final.”

Eddie scoffs at his manager. Ever since he was informed that ‘Y/N - biggest fucking nobody in the rock scene’ was going to be coming in and recording his song with him, Eddie had been relenting.

“Tom, you don’t fucking get it man. Clearly. My song is perfect. What do we need her for? She doesn’t even have an album out, she’s made no name for herself. She’s going to ruin Corroded Coffin.” Eddie continues pestering, despite Tom’s insistence against it.

“No, Eddie, see that’s where you’re wrong. You wrote a good song man, okay? A good song. But just a good song. She could make it great. You haven’t heard her sing like I have. She has real talent.”

Eddie scrunches up his face and pinches the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “Oh a good song, huh? But you said the label liked it. Why change it?”

Tom sighs, taking a step towards Eddie. “The label didn’t dig the song… okay? They said it needs more, otherwise they’re gonna pass on it.”

“So you fuckin’ lied man, fuck-“ Eddie grits his teeth. “Fine, whatever, she’s gonna sing on the song with me. But that’s it.” Eddie grumbles, storming out of the small room.

•••

“He doesn’t get it, guys, he doesn’t fucking get it!” Eddie yells. “This is my song. My fucking baby. And this... bitch is gonna come in here and destroy it. I don’t need her singing on the song - I don’t need anyone to make my music ‘better’” he spits.

The thing is, things have always gone Eddie’s way since Corroded Coffin gained traction in the music world. Eddie writes the songs, Eddie dictates which songs go on the album, so on and so forth. This makes sense to Eddie, and if you ask him, he’s being completely fair to the rest of the guys in the band. ‘Of course I let them have a say in things. I don’t care what rumors you’ve heard - it’s a fair process around here.’ It’s only natural that he can’t handle the idea of someone else singing on his song. Eddie is always the one singing, save for Gareth and Jeff doing backing vocals.

Eddie thrives off of being liked. The way the fans hang onto every word he sings- it’s electric to him. He’s addicted to the way people adore him. And he’d never admit it to anybody… but he’s nervous you might just show him up, and then *poof* no one cares about him anymore.

“Come on, Eddie. Ease up a little! This could be fun, you never know.” Gareth says, following Eddie back and forth as he paces the recording studio.

“I give you like, 20 minutes before you’re in love with her… or bending her over a table.” Jeff interjects, screeching when Gareth throws a drumstick at him to shut him up.

Eddie can’t get a rebuttal in before the door swings open. Tom walks in trailed by a young woman. Quite possibly the most beautiful woman Eddie’s ever see- nope. Nope. Not going there. What was that?

“Guys. This is Y/N, as I’m sure you could guess. She’s here to record ‘Honeycomb’ with us today.” Tom smiles politely at the group, jolting Eddie from his thoughts.

“Y/N, hey. It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m Gareth, this is Jeff, Greg, and I’m sure you know Eddie - the star of the show.” Gareth goes around the room, pointing at all of the guys.

You meet Eddie’s gaze as Gareth talks, and your breath hitches in your throat. Of course you know who Eddie is- you’ve seen him on magazine covers and in interviews. You’ve always thought he was alluring, but he’s even more gorgeous in person. Long, curly hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Tattoos trailing up his arms and chains around his neck. His signature ripped black skinny jeans that hug him so well in all the right places… fuck. Focus. You are not here to sleep with Eddie Munson. You redirect your attention to Gareth as he finishes speaking.

The rest of the guys all greet you warmly - except Eddie, you notice - who gives you a tight-lipped smile and a quick nod.

You walk straight up to him, holding out your hand for him to shake. “It’s so nice to meet you Eddie. Thank you so much for letting me be on the song - seriously, it means the world.” You say, exaggerating sincerity a little.

Eddie reluctantly shakes your hand. “Yeah. Let’s get this over with.”

He walks away to set up a microphone before he can think too hard about the way his heart pounded as your hands touched.

•••

The recording session starts, and take one of the song has begun. You insisted on using the same mic as Eddie, who begrudgingly allowed you to stand beside him, shoulders brushing ever so slightly. The contact sends chills down his spine. Eddie sings the first lines confidently into the mic, not making eye contact with you. Tom, along with the rest of the band watch the two of you intently from the sound booth. Honestly, Eddie has to admit everything is going smoothly. That is, until the chorus starts. Eddie sings one lyric into the microphone… and you sing a different one.

“Woah, woah, okay, stop!” Eddie yells to Tom to cut the track, pulling the clunky headphones off of his head. “Those aren’t the lyrics, what are you doing?” He’s turned to face you, incredulous.

“Um I- I’m sorry, did he not get my version? Does he not know?” You say, avoiding eye contact with Eddie to level with Tom.

“Your version!? This is my song- you are here to sing on my song. Not to rewrite the damn song!” Eddie hisses, throwing his hands in the air.

“No, darling, I’m here to make your song better. And that’s exactly what I’ve done.” You narrow your eyes at him, a syrupy sweet smile on your face.

Eddie’s face is burning, his whole body is burning. You weren’t supposed to write new lyrics. This is not happening. And for the love of god stop staring at her lips, Eddie.

“Eddie, uh, let’s give her version a shot, yeah?” Tom says, framing it like a question, but Eddie knows he doesn’t really have a choice.

The track starts from the top again, and Eddie finds that his hands are trembling as he holds your songbook. He sings the lyrics as you have written them, and his stomach sinks as he does it. He hates that you’ve changed his perfect song. He hates that he was made to look like an idiot because Tom didn’t tell him you had rewritten anything. And most of all, he hates that he can hear how good your voices sound together. He hates that he thinks he’d like to hear the sound of your voice for the rest of his life, on the rest of his songs.

“Oooh, we could make a good thing bad,” the two of you sing out in unison, and the song ends.

Eddie stares at you and you stare at him, chest heaving and absolutely beaming. The rest of the band are looking at the two of you in awe from the sound booth. Eddie can’t bring himself to smile, can’t bring himself to let you know that he thinks you really might have made his song better. Can’t face you while his mind races with thoughts of grabbing your face and kissing you. Instead, he hands you your lyric book and hurries out of the studio.

You excuse yourself to the group amid their praises and follow him out the large wooden doors. You’re surprised to find the lobby empty, but then you hear noise coming from down the hall. Walking over to a small closet, you peer in and see Eddie in the dim light, leaning against the wall, hands covering his face and his head tipped back.

“Eddie, what was up with that?” You ask him gently, closing the closet door behind you for privacy. “I thought we sounded great.”

“You rewrote my fucking song!” He booms over you. “That wasn’t the plan. You were supposed to sing on it with me and that would be that.” He’s stepped towards you, leaving little room between the two of you in the already-cramped closet.

“It’s not my fault Tom didn’t tell you I changed some of the lyrics, okay? I didn’t expect you to be blindsided like that. But you could’ve been more mature about it!” You defend.

“Who the hell do you think you are? No- seriously, tell me. Corroded Coffin has worked so hard to make a name for ourselves. I have worked so hard. And you just waltz in here like you own the place? What the fuck is your problem?” Eddie’s words come out sharp, bitter, but there’s an emotion behind his eyes you can’t quite place. Fear? Maybe.

“Oh get your head out of your ass already, Eddie! I made your song better! We sounded fucking amazing together- the label might actually want it now!” You’re screaming back at him at this point, heat rising in your face as he steps impossibly closer to you. “And don’t even get me fucking started on the Corroded Coffin bullshit. Do you even give the other guys a say in what happens in this band? Cause you seem like a big cocky crybaby who always gets his way. I may not be rich and famous like you are but at least I’m not a fucking prick!” You’re seething, and you press your hands to his chest in an attempt to shove him backwards.

Eddie stops you, though, grabs you by the wrists. Firmly, but not hurting. His huge brown eyes haven’t stopped boring into yours. He thinks his heart might sprout wings and fly out of his chest. He thinks he might hate himself forever if he doesn’t get to have more of you.

“What- now you’re speechless? Don’t have anything to s-“ Eddie cuts you off, pressing his lips to yours like his life suddenly depends on it. Maybe it does.

You’re caught off guard, frozen in place for only a second until you kiss him back, pushing him up against the shelves behind him. His hands leave your wrists and hastily scour your body. You’d think he was a man starved the way he grips at your hips, lips basically devouring yours all the while. Eddie gasps as you lean down to his neck, sucking red and purple marks onto the skin that Jeff is definitely going to mock him for later. He can’t bring himself to care. He grabs your face in his hands to meet your lips once again, needing more.

“You wanna know something, Y/N?” Eddie says between kisses, moving down to nip at your neck. “I can’t fucking stand the way you came in here so confidently today-“ another kiss to your neck. “The way you came right up and sang into the same mic as me instead of using your own, like you just own the whole room-“ another kiss, and another “I can’t stand the fact that your lyrics are better than mine- that maybe you made 'Honeycomb' something I couldn’t make it,” he’s talking through gritted teeth, agitated and yet completely enamored with you. “I hate that the entire time I was watching you sing, I couldn’t stop thinking about your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock..”

Before you can respond, he’s unbuttoning your jeans, pushing you against the opposite wall of the closet, taking control.

“I think you’re absolutely insufferable and immature” you breathe out, pulling his hair out of its ponytail so you can run your fingers through it.

He lets out a breathy chuckle, but it’s arrogant, smug. “You can spit whatever insults you like, sweetheart, but you’re absolutely soaked right now.” He gives you a smile, tilting his head to the side as he does. His fingers had slipped inside the waistband of your pants, and are now circling the lace fabric of your panties.

You feel yourself clench around nothing as his fingers tease your core. You let out an involuntary moan, rutting your hips down against his touch. He gets the hint and shimmies your jeans down your legs, and you slip out of them after quickly taking your shoes off. You meet his gaze again as he tugs his jeans down slightly, pulling his cock free from the thin fabric of his boxers.

And - oh my god - he’s fucking huge. Thick and long with a dripping pink tip. You swallow, hard, and you swear you feel your mouth start to water. Suddenly you can’t figure out how you’ve survived this long without him, and you certainly won’t be able to after this.

“Get on your fucking knees, babydoll” he purrs, lips inches away from your ear.

You oblige, of course, settling yourself so that your pussy rests on the toe of his combat boot, aching for whatever friction you can get. You take his cock into your mouth without further instruction from the rockstar, and he inhales sharply above you.

“Fuck, baby, shit-“ Eddie groans, collecting your hair in one of his hands and tugging, his cock twitching slightly in your mouth.

“What, big shot, can’t handle it? Should I tell the press that Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin comes three seconds into a blowjob?” you tease him, but you can’t ignore the way your head spins at his praise.

“Shut up and fucking suck it, sweetheart- I can handle it.” He hisses.

You don't need further instruction. Your tongue works on his cock, licking a stripe up his length and then kitten-licking the tip. Eddie’s seeing stars as you engulf him entirely in your mouth once again. You go at it for a while before he feels you rutting yourself against his boot.

His laugh is devious, wicked. “So desperate for me huh, sweet thing? Gonna get yourself off while you suck my cock, baby?”

You want to retaliate, taunt him back, do anything to make yourself seem like more than a pathetic fucking whore for him, but you’re dripping through your panties and the friction is so, so delicious you can’t stop your movements. Warmth is beginning to pool in your stomach and you need this release. You take him as deep into your mouth as you can, his tip practically nudging the back of your throat, gagging around him. Eddie thinks he might die, seriously, this is it for him. ‘Rockstar Dies In Supply Closet With His Dick Out’ he can see the tabloid headlines now. He tugs your hair and holds your head still as he starts to fuck into your mouth, reveling in the moans and mewls you let out beneath him.

“Shit, sweetheart, you feel s’fucking good around my dick-" he grunts, throwing his head back as he picks up his pace. "Go ahead and touch yourself for me, sweet girl. I know you need more." He says roughly.

You happily let him throat-fuck you as you tug your panties down slightly, bringing a hand down to allow your fingers to rub harsh circles into your clit. You feel yourself getting closer, a coil tightening more more more as he fucks into the heat of your mouth. You can sense his movements getting erratic, and you glance up to look at his face. He's delirious, so fucked out, and you feel as if you could melt into a puddle right here at his feet as you watch him.

“I’m gonna fucking cum, sweetheart, shit- you want it in your mouth?” He asks you, brown eyes blown out wide as he awaits your response.

You nod, mouth too full of him to speak, and you squeeze his heavy balls in your free hand as he thrusts faster faster faster into your mouth. He lets out a strangled moan as his cock twitches, ropes of hot cum coating your tongue. You quicken your pace on your aching clit and it doesn't take long for the coil in your stomach to snap. You cum all over your fingers and Eddie's boot that still rests beneath you, as he finishes riding out his high above you. He watches you as you swallow his load and he silently swears to himself he’ll do whatever he can to have you like this more often.

“Fuck, baby, you soaked my shoes huh? You okay?” He asks you tenderly, grabbing your arms to pick you up off the floor and steady your shaking frame. You nod, collapsing against him, head pressed to his chest. The two of you stay like that for a while, listening to each others heavy breaths before Eddie finally breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry for being a dick about having you on the song, okay?” He says, his voice softer and far more unsure than you've ever heard it. “You made it better- I really fucking mean that.”

“I know I did.” you reply, shifting to meet his gaze, and he smiles at you. “A few more rounds of this," you gesture around the two of you, "and I think you’ll have made it up to me” you smirk at him.

“Alright, sweetheart, same place same time tomorrow?” Eddie teases, and you laugh. That’s a sound he thinks he could get used to.

•••

When the two of you walk back into the recording room, Eddie's neck littered with hickeys and mascara smudged around your eyes, no one says a damn word.

"'Honeycomb' take three anyone?" Eddie asks.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #rockstar!eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader

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