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fangirl-dot-com · 1 month

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☕️That's That Me Espresso

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Singer!Reader (fc Sabrina Carpenter) Genre: Fluff/SMAU Summary: Max had been single for the first time in almost 4 years. What do Lando and Charles do? Lightly set him up with a very popular acquaintance. They just hope he likes espresso.

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There was a different type of electricity in the air that Max was not familiar with. Sure, every race had that adrenalinistic atmosphere that, really, he had gotten numb to. But this, this was different. He might have even gone as far as to call it a “breath of fresh air.”

His whole body was tired, especially after a grueling race. Why the FIA decided to push the Brazil Grand Prix to the dead middle of summer? He didn’t know why. But he had said enough passive aggressive remarks about the weather. The reason they gave was to avoid the typhoons that normally showed up during the later months of the year, when the usual race was scheduled.

The Dutchman didn’t mind. The race last year, although the weekend had been soaked, hadn’t even been canceled. Sure there was rain, but they had raced in wetter conditions before. But, he had no control over the schedule.

If he had been in charge, the calendar would have only 10 races comprised of all historical tracks, no US races, and sprints would be cast into the nearest dumpster.

But Max Verstappen was not in charge of the Formula 1 calendar, and he was now standing backstage to some concert that Lando and Charles had dragged him and some other drivers to. They explained that it was for their girlfriends, but Lando didn’t have a girlfriend and Max knew he and Charles genuinely liked the pop genre.

He just never bothered to listen to specific music. He went more by the vibes the song gave, and if he liked it, he liked it. There was no reason to go deep into the discography of the artist and the albums.

Music was just music to Max.

Well, that was until the lights dimmed and the most beautiful person, well to Max’s opinion, walked out in almost 6-inch heels and the shortest white skirt.

Now, Max had been single for almost three months. He had known that Kelly was drifting, but he didn’t make any attempts to draw her back in. The close to four year relationship just fizzled.

However, he was confused when his friends celebrated the breakup. Lando had gently told him that, while Penelope was very sweet, Kelly had been using him. Charles also brought up the fact that Kelly had said that she had a “magical meeting” with him when he was 19, practically a child with how fast he had to grow up.

The 9 year age gap pretty much put people on edge about her.

But Max had no time to dwell on that as he watched the female dance around, pretty skirt flipping up every time she skipped on stage. Her voice echoed through the large speakers, and Max found himself head bobbing to the beat.

When there was a brief intermission, Lando had snaked his arm around his neck.

“So how are you liking it?” he asked, taking a sip of his drink after. The Dutchman hadn’t taken his eyes of the door where she had gone through.

“She’s very pretty.”

Lando snorted, making Max turn to face his friend.

“I didn’t ask about her mate, but good to know. I can introduce you to Y/n after the concert is over if you’d like me to.”

Max’s eyes widened.

So that’s what your name was. He thought it was very fitting, and he could start to daydream of how the vowels and consonants would sound through his mouth. He wondered if his lisp would accidentally seep through.

“You would?”

Lando sighed before calling Charles over. The brunet was quick to round the other side of the two drivers, now taking up Max’s left.

“Yeah mate?”

Lando slapped Max on the back, making him wince a bit, muscles still sore.

“Our race winner here seems to be a bit infatuated with Y/n.”

Charles wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “Is he now? They’d be a nice pair wouldn’t you say Lando?”

Max tuned the last bit of their conversation out as he watched you prance out of the door you disappeared through earlier. He didn’t know what caused you to look over as you were putting in your in-ears, but you did and your eyes met his.

You quickly blushed under the gaze of the unfamiliar blond man as your eyes darted back to the ground. You had recognized Lando to his right (your left), but the man remained a mystery to you as you began to sing the second half of your set.

You kneeled on the edge of the stage and reached out for a Brazilian flag that a fan was desperately waving around. You took the soft fabric and wrapped it around your shoulders for the rest of the evening.

Max thought you looked like an angel. The lights reflected your blond hair perfectly, creating almost a halo around your face. He himself wanted to give your stylists a raise for picking out the perfect hair, makeup, and outfit.

You had a big smile as you waved to the crowds after your last encore.

“Brasil! Voce tem sido incrive! Todos voces tem meu coracao! Te amo e boa noite!”

You even had the voice of an angel.

And you were now walking toward their group. Max was not prepared. Thankfully Lando and Charles were as they stepped in front Max and congratulated you on the concert. Every now and then in the conversation, your eyes flitted to the blond man, who was looking everywhere but you.

“Y/n! I don’t believe you’ve met Max yet! Max this is Y/n, and Y/n this is Max Verstappen, current world champion.”

The last words made Charles huff a bit, only being behind Max in the points this season by a small margin. You put your hand out for a shake but Max just looked at it, stared, then looked back up.

“You’re very pretty.”

He wanted to slap himself in the face, but your giggles that flew out of your mouth made him want to melt into the ground. Your hand covered your mouth as you looked up at him. Even with your heals, Max was still a half a foot taller than you. You know that it’d be closer to a full foot without your shoes, which you were desperately wanting to get out of.

“Thank you. You’re very handsome, but I guess you hear that too often.”

He actually didn’t. Most didn’t go for his stockier build, rounded features, and flat hair. He knew that many preferred Charles’s slim waist and Lando’s boyish looks. But here you were, looking up at him like he was God’s gift to mankind. Your round doe eyes were hitting all of his buttons.

He smirked. “Not too many, but I only remember the gorgeous ones.”

Oh, so he could flirt. That was news to Lando and Charles as they watched the interactions nearby.

Lando leaned over when Max fished out his phone from his pant leg almost shy at the action. “I didn’t think he had it in him. I wonder if he has ever had the chance to try to date.”

Charles hummed. “He had a few girlfriends before Kelly. But again, they were all older. Y/n is only 22.”

When you trailed off to go change, Max walked over to the duo with a dopey smile.

“I think I’m in love.”

y/nl/n has posted

liked by landonorris, y/nisqueen, mothery/n, and 3,205,094 others y/nl/n brasil! you were amazing! Te amo, te amo! I will miss you all 💚💛🇧🇷

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y/nnation this concert was just chef's kiss!!

y/nisqueen the outfits, the flag, the hair - oh my gosh I love her

f1xy/n did anyone else see that tweet about the f1 drivers in attendance??

norris/n I hope that lando was there, him and y/n would be so cute

maxxy/n I think y/n and max would be so cutie tho

landonorris great show once again y/n!

y/nl/n glad that you and your friends could come see!!

teamy/n your honor I love her

Another giggle left your lips as you were driven back to your hotel. Your manager was watching you with fond eyes, happy to see you all smiley. Your last relationship had not ended well, leaving you heartbroken and depressed. But your emotions fueled you to write your best album yet.

“I’m going to guess that you’re texting you driver,” she wiggled her eyebrows at you, making you sink into the seat, phone covering your face.

“Maybe. Mila, he’s so perfect. He’s very . . . sweet, but at the same time he’s sharp. He’s a bit like my every morning drink.”

Mila sent you a warm smile. “Speaking of morning drinks, do you still want your espresso sent to your room at the normal time, or do you want to sleep in?”

Your brows furrowed, mind running quickly. You opened your notes app and began typing.

“Espresso.”

A few months passed with you and Max growing closer and closer. People online could definitely tell that the Dutchman was more smiley, but no one knew why. They could only speculate that he was in a relationship, but he hadn’t really been anywhere in the past few months that could signify a blooming relationship.

You were up writing late when your phone buzzed, the familiar pattern letting you know that a certain blond was calling you. Your eyebrows pinched as you noticed the time. You pressed the green button before saying hello.

“Hi schatje,” the familiar pet-name flooding the room.

“Why are you up so late? Don’t you have a race tomorrow morning?”

Although you were in two different countries, you and Max miraculously were in the same time zones, meaning if you were up late so was he.

“We have the sim race this weekend.”

“Maaxxx.”

“Y/nnnnn, I’ve done it before. And plus, you’re also up.”

You nibbled on your lip. “I couldn’t sleep. Lyrics are just racing around my brain.”

“That or you had your espresso too late again.”

You smirked as your eyes landed on the empty espresso mug on the bedside table.

“I’m taking the silence as ‘yes Max. I had an espresso too late.’”

Max’s favorite sound, your laugh, sounded through his phone that was resting on his simulator. The two of you had some weird humor, but you never failed to make Max laugh and neither did he.

The sound of him shifting the gears was better than any white noise machine could be. Max tried his best to focus on his race, but the scratching of your pencil and your sporadic sighs kept him a bit distracted.

“Would you be fine if I put a hint in my song? I like having you all to myself, but I want people to know that you make me happy.”

Max almost virtually crashed. You never ceased to amaze him.

“That’s fine with me liefling. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

y/nl/n has posted

liked by gracieadams, y/nvideo, maxverstappen1, and 3,405,295 others y/nl/n ☕️ espresso is now yours :) let's call it the bop of the summer

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maxxy/n ayo max, why are you here so early 🤨

f1xy/n what the hell is a polar bear doing in Arlington texas

y/n.nation when she says bop of the summer, it's the bop of the summer

maxverstappen1 ☕️

y/nl/n ☕️

queeny/n what the heck is this supposed to mean?????

user204502 this song has been on repeat

Max hadn’t know when you were going to release the song, he just knew that you were. He hadn’t even realized that it was out to the public until Charles had mentioned something.

“Y/n’s new song is great, non? Didn’t know that you two were soft launching, but I’m happy for you two.”

Max never ran faster than he did to get to his driver’s room to listen to it. He never thought that you’d ever write a song about him, but here it was. The title was catchy too.

Thankfully, you were waiting for him when he got back to Monaco. The first thing he did was lean down to kiss your lips. You could never get over the feeling of his lips against yours. The broadness of his shoulders made you feel safe as he caged you in between himself and the door.

His large hands fit perfectly against your hips as he brushed his face against your neck. Your hands gripped his shirt that was thankfully not a Red Bull polo.

“I take it you liked the song?” you managed to get out, breathless against him. A hum vibrated against your neck, letting you know that he was pleased.

He finally gave you a bit of space once he kissed you on his way back up.

“Espresso?”

You giggled, head digging into his chest. “I had one almost 15 minutes ago.”

“Of course you did.”

There was a comfortable silence between the two of you as you just stood in the walkway to his house. The place finally looked like someone was actually living in it, and not looking like an Ikea display.

Little bits of Max were visible everywhere, now that he didn’t have to hide his stuff away in his little mancave. His suit was now on display with pictures of his various wins decorating the walls. But in between all the racing were bits of you left behind. Pictures of your stages filled in the gaps.

But Max’s favorite bit was the circle stain of dark espresso by your side of his bed.

“Come with me to Silverstone and later to Zandvoort.”

You looked up at him, still not getting over the foot in height difference. Your neck had to crane for you to look him in the eyes.

“Think about it,” Max continued. “You’re taking a small break from your tours when Silverstone happens. And then Zandvoort is the Sunday before the Netherlands concert.”

You couldn’t say anything but yes.

Lando was surprised to see your hand held tightly in Max’s. The last thing he knew is that you and him were texting, but he didn’t know if it went any farther than that. The Briton was happy to learn that you had been behind the Dutchman’s wide smiles between races.

He thought you looked absolutely tiny next to Max, even in your usual heels. Lando did notice that you weren’t visible in the garage during the practices and even the race on Sunday. When it was him, Max, and Charles on the podium, he took his chances to ask.

“Where’s your superstar?”

Max visible brightened at the mention of you. “We’re not public yet. I think we like the privacy a bit too much.”

Lando looked confused. “But the song?”

He watched as Max leaned back with a laugh. “Mate, everyone thinks she’s in a relationship with either you or Sebastian of all people.”

“Why would it be Seb?” Charles piped up, finally joining the conversation.

“Because she sings something about calling me a honey bee. People are trying to connect that with the racing lyric and Seb’s bee keeping skills.”

The photographers thought that they were getting good pictures of the three enjoying the post-race celebrations as they caught giant smiles and laughs. They probably couldn’t even imagine the conversation that was going on.

It wasn’t until Zandvoort that people started to catch glimpses of you in the paddock. You smiled widely as you stepped through the turnstile, hand clasped in Max’s. Cameras were clicking wildly, but you knew how to ignore them.

You were here for Max and Max only.

You had wanted to find something orange to wear, but the weather was a bit rainy and cold. Max had convinced you to wear something warm, much to your chagrin. When you had pouted earlier in the hotel room, he just leaned down and kissed your lips.

“Hmmmm, espresso. My favorite.”

You had rolled your eyes. “Yeah, because you were up late again. I was able to get some more work done though.”

“Must have gotten some from you then.”

The Red Bull driver was able to secure his home race win, putting him just behind Charles in the standings. The Ferrari driver had been driving like a madman all season, and Max had just now been able to catch up to him. However, you knew how scared he was of losing his champion title.

But, this year, he had you to be his support. Whether he won or lost, you’d still be there. Unlike Kelly, you didn’t push your way into his life. You let him choose you when he wanted. There was no constant grabbing at his arms to pull him away from his crew.

When Max finally made his way to you, he just brought you in close. He wouldn’t have been able to kiss you with his helmet on anyway. When he pulled back, he was surprised to see tears in your eyes. His face must have had confusion written all over it as you shook your head.

“Happy tears. I’m so proud of you.”

The validation he got from you meant so much more than any he ever received. As Max looked down at you from the top step of the podium, you looked up at him like he hung the sun. The Dutchman would never fall tired of your gaze.

y/nl/n has posted

liked by maxverstappen1, mothery/n, verstopen33, and 4,204,938 others y/nl/n oh, he looks so cute, wrapped around my finger

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mothery/n WAS NOT EXPECTING THE HARD LAUNCH WHAT

f1xy/n thank you y/n for feeding us with boyfriend max material

verstappen33max I don't think I've seen him so smiley

maxverstappen1 💙 schatje

y/nl/n 💗 my love

y/nisqueen awwww I love them your honor

landonorris rue, when was this? 🤨

charles_leclerc me as well 😊

maxverstappen1 I think since February??

landonorris SINCE FEBRUARY???

charles_leclerc congrats!!

y/nl/n thank you charlieeeee

y/nvideo this is now my otp for the rest of my life 🥺

A week later, it was Max’s turn to stare at you the way that you stared at him. The little pink number that you were wearing was turning Max’s thoughts into something more that just hugs and kisses. But, he put those away (maybe for later) and just continued to enjoy the set that you had chosen.

He couldn’t believe that he was back in the same place that he had been eight months ago. But, there he was, still as starstruck as he had been. He loved to see you skip around, skirt still flinging around and heels still adorning your feet.

As the evening was closing, he just couldn’t wait to bring you back to the hotel to love on you, even more than he had already been doing. He wished time could speed up just a bit because he knew you were it for him.

There was a before you, a during you, and he never wanted there to be an after you.

He, along with the rest of the crowd and fellow drivers, got confused when you didn’t leave the stage after the last song. But, as slow piano music left the giant speakers, Max immediately knew what was happening.

In the past couple of months, you had been holed up in your studio, really only seeing Max whenever he dropped off lunch or when you came back to his house. And many times, he was surprised to see Charles there as well, dressed in comfy clothes and glasses on his face.

Piano sheet music always covered every inch of studio space when the Monegasque showed up, meaning that you were in the middle of creating a masterpiece. And, Max got to listen to multiple different melodies that the two of you put together. However, he wasn’t allowed to listen to any of the final demos which eventually got turned into songs.

Tears pricked his eyes when he heard you explain yourself to the crowd. You had turned a bit to face Max as you talked. Your message for him more than the crowd.

Your smile shined in the bright spotlights.

“This next song is one that I wrote for a very special person in my life. You all know who it is so I won’t embarrass him.”

Max could never be embarrassed by you.

“I call it Lover, because that is what he is to me. My one and only love. Max, my espresso, I love you dearly.”

And so dearly, he loved you too.

y/nl/n has posted

liked by dior, maxverstappen1, y/nfan, and 4,205,893 others y/nl/n a song for my lover? how about an album 💖

lover is now yours on all streaming platforms

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y/nfan I THINK I BEAT MAX TO THE LIKES

y/nfan never mind...

y/n.nation the new song and now new album, max please keep keeping her happy

charles_leclerc glad to be a part of the album y/n!

y/nl/n thank you Charles! merci beaucoup 🫶

maxverstappen1 my lover 💖

y/nl/n my one and only 💙

landonorris ok, when do I get an album??

y/nl/n I can set you up with one of my friends?

ynsmax and we all say "thank you max!"

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seonghwaddict · 2 months

Text

super duper pretty — kim hongjoong

in which you haven’t heard from him in years but a single drunk phone call ends up with you tangled up in your bed.

musician!kim hongjoong x fem!reader. genre. angst, suggestive, friends to lovers. warnings. drinking, tension, kissing, suggestive content. wc. 4k. rating. pg-13.

lilo’s notes. AGHDHSJDJJAJDJSJDHSJS GRRRR WOOF WOOF AWOOOO GR AHHHDHDHDHHDS

listening to. right here, chase atlantic.

masterlist.

you weren’t someone hongjoong could bring himself to think about much these days. despite having known each other since childhood and been best friends, he hadn’t spoken to you in three years, too caught up in his thriving music career.

album, tours, interviews, collaborations. it all kept him busy and away from you. his chase for stardom had him isolating and distancing himself from friends and family. and, sure, it was shitty, but he didn’t have time to dwell on the people he was told would hold him back. he didn’t have time to regret it. regretting leads to stagnating and stagnating would lead to the end of his career.

that’s not to say he didn’t miss you. of course, he did. but on the last day he spoke to you, it ended in an argument he didn’t have the energy to resolve. so, he left. he left you.

him not having time to regret it was more an ideal rather than a truth.

in reality, he regretted leaving you more than anything else.

but three years later he still hadn’t talked to you, afraid it would ruin his pride if he came running back to you. yet he couldn’t deny how he felt like he was on top of the world, the best producer and rapper in the scene. his career was thriving and his newest album topped charts across alll platforms. when all the interviews and promotions were finally over, he decided to treat himself ot a little celebration, renting a club in town and inviting every major celebrity he had connections too.

the night was spent dancing and throwing back shot after shot until he could barely stand. he enjoyed it at first, but slowly the effects of the colourful drinks made him feel much too hot and cramped in the sea of dancing bodies. making sure no one noticed, he escaped through a back door into the cold, fresh air. he felt the sudden urge to leave, but in his drunken state it would be difficult to navigate his way home.

without thinking, he slumped against the red brick wall and pulled out his phone, dialing a number he’s always know by heart. it rang three times before the person picked up.

“hello?”

hongjoong didn’t realise how much he missed your voice until you uttered that word so softly. he could picture you somewhere in your appartment, maybe in the kitchen to get a snack, tilting your head in confusion at the unfamiliar number.

“hey,” he really didn’t know what else to say, staring intently at a leaf on the ground.

you went completely silent on the other end and for a moment he thought you’d hung up. but, eventually, you spoke again, only this time a certain firmness to your voice.

“what do you want?”

“come pick me up,” his words slurred and molded together and you had a hard time unnderstanding him, sat stifly on your couch, “please, i need you to pick me up. just… just this once?”

you didn’t know what to say. you wanted to scream and yell at him and demand a proper explanation as to why he just walked out of your life like it was nothing, but at the same time, you wanted to sob and confess how much you missed him.

still, you couldn’t help but ask, “what the hell happened, hongjoong?”

"i- i'm drunk," he slurred, sounding even worse than before as he shuffles his feet on the floor pebbled floor. "like, really, really drunk," he insisted with a quiet groan, but you already came to that conclusion. "come pick me up… please?"

you stood up from your couch, pacing around you living room as you listened to him speak before stopping by your window and looking out into the night sky. he was the last person you thought would call you at this house, not having heard from him in three years. but here he was, drunk and begging you to pick him up from god knows where.

“fine.” you said simply, swallowing down the lump in your throat as you grabbed your coat from the entrance of your apartment and slipped on some shoes, not bothering to change out of your nightwear. “where are you?”

“um,” he looked around. the back door led into an alley, but if he walked off to the right he’d be right by the entrance. with his free hand supporting him on the wall, he did his best to get there. “outside the, uh, club,” he explained, though it was really helpful, “by the-” he cut himself off with a sigh, resting his forehead against the wall and squeezing his eyes shut in frustation of his lack of clarity, “the red one.”

your eyebrows furrowed at his vague description as you got to your car, getting into the drivers seat and just sitting there until he could give you a proper answer. “the… red… one?”

“it’s got, um,” he looked around the surrounding area, spotting a familiar place just across the street, “in front of that café we used to go to?”

“oh.” you recognised that, hesitating for a moment before starting the car, unwanted memories of the countless hours you spent with him there clouding your thoughts. all the talking and studying and laughing. “find somewhere to sit.”

“okay,” he nodded to himself, taking some steps to a wooden bench and pointing at it as if you could see, “i’m gonna sit on this thingy.” his drunken stupor had him laughing at himself as he takes the final steps to sit down. he swayed a little but not enough to make him lose balance and fall. once sat, he nodded and grinned at nothing in particular, just proud he was able to manage the simple task you gave him. “i’m sitting.”

“good, great,” you hummed approvingly, holding back a smile at his antics, “now… just hang tight, i’ll be right there, okay?”

“okay.”

it felt good to sit here, he realised with a sigh as he leaned back and tipped his head to look up at the stars. the gentle caress of the night air and the dimmed sounds of the city around him a soothing backdrop to the chaos in his head.

a silence followed his words, tense but not uncomfortable. the red exterior of the cheap club came into view soon enough and you slowed to a stop to park in a free space. you got out of the car and looked around until you found a familiar figure sitting on a bench tucked below a little tree. you hesitated again for a moment before walking to him as slowly as possible, your heart pounding in your chest. he hadn’t noticed you yet, having shut his eyes at some point.

it took you some long moments but you finally pulled yourself together and cleared your throat, making him startle as you muttered a tentative, “hey.”

he glanced toward the sound of your voice, blinking away the drunken haze as he attempted to focus on the world around him. his vision unclear and unfocused as looked up at you, struggling to recognise you for a moment. the bright streetlights made his head ache a little; the world a blur and all he could do was struggle to focus until he could see you properly, the familiar feature snapping him back to reality.

you shifted back and forth on your heels awkwardly, waiting for him to say something as he just stared at you, face flushed and intoxicated. your hair was messy and you wore shorts and a loose light grey sweater. you wondered if he even recognised you, or were you just a stranger to him?

“you came,” he breathed after a while, eyes taking in every detail on you. he focused on you; the way the moonlight caught on your skin, the soft furrow of your brows and subtle downturn of your lips. your eyes, his favourite eyes in the world, looking back at him. “you actually came.”

“you called,” you answered, almost breathless as you also took him in. his style looked a little edgier than when you’d last seen him, though still as chic as ever. short bleached hair, the corners of his sharp eyes smoked out.

“i did,” he nodded, attempting to stand up before slumping back again, “but you actually came.” the alcohol made his words feel heavy, pushing them out in soft sighs as his eyes locked with yours again. he grinned stupidly, “you’re like, pretty.”

you almost laughed at his words, shaking your head lightly, “and you’re like, drunk,” you scoffed jokingly, “come on, it’s late, let me get you home.”

“no, i mean,” he whined, pouting dramatically and now you weren’t sure if the pink tint of his face was from the alcohol or something else, “you’re like super duper pretty.”

unsure of how to respond to his compliment, you only chuckled nervously and offered him a hand to help him get up. “come on.”

he stared at your hand for a few long moments before grasping it and standing up with your assistance. he stumbled a little but caught himself as you led him to the car. your nudged him to get into the passenger seat as you walked around to get into the driver’s.

it was dark in your car, your face dimly illuminated by the screen that displayed a map of the area. you look even prettier in this light, he thought, the sharp shadows making your features stand out that much more. your cheeks soft and round and your eyes sparkling with reflections in a way that made his wander all over you.

neither of you said anything for a while as you sat there. seemingly lost in his drunken daze, he realised how familiar this felt, being there with you, just you and him. everything felt right. he let out a soft hum before leaning back, tilting his head back against the seat and closing his eyes.

“my place is closer than yours,” now that he wasn’t looking at you, you felt comfortable enough to break the silence. finally buckling your seatbelt, you tried to ignore the way butterflies swarmed in your stomach at the thought of his eyes on your body, “you can stay for the night, if you want.”

“do i get the couch?” he turned his head to peer over at you as you start the car, “or…” he giggled, “or… we can share the bed.”

you raised an eyebrow at him, surprised at how flirtatious he was being. “we’ve shared before so, i guess… if the bed is more comfortable for your then i’m fine with sharing it.”

memories of your late night excursions with him rushed back to you and you briefly wondered if he would touch you the same as you laid together. would the feeling of his hand in yours bring you the same comfort? or the protective grip on your back or thigh? you don’t mention any of it.

“let’s just share,” he whispered back. he sounded tired, though if asked he could probably go on a ten page rant of how much he missed being close to you.

he, too, thought of all the night you spent together. the laughs and the touches that felt so real. he remembered how comfortably you would fit in the same bed, laying side-by-side and watching random movies until dawn broke. how easily you’d fall asleep as you shared blankets, face mere inches away from each other but never quite touching.

he wondered if it was possible to relive those times, gazing over at you for a moment before shaking his head and look out the window. those were nothing but drunk fantasies.

“okay,” you whispered back, trying not to look at him, trying not to shiver at the softness of his voice. a little slurred, but still soft.

he was always like that with you. soft.

people would mistake the two of you for lovers more often than not when they first met you, but it was always denied with flushed cheeks and awkward giggles. and it was true. no matter what was said or done, you always remained just that. best friends. it was for the better, made things much less complicated. especially when he took off and you never saw him again.

at least, until now.

the silence in the car was palpable, broken only by quiet breaths and the low hum of the car. it was a calm silence, mildly comfortable despite how heavy it felt, weighted down by all the things unsaid.

eventually, you slowed to a stop and pulled into your parking space in front of the apartment building you lived in. turning off the car, you got out and beelined for the entrance. he knew where to go anyway, not looking back at him as you led the way to your apartment.

the door opened to your living room and kitchen area, just a little messy since you weren’t expecting anyone to come over anytime soon. you made quick work of shucking off your jacket and placing your shoes aside, telling him to wait for a moment before you disappeared through a hallway he knew led to your bedroom.

you returned quickly, a pile of folded clothes in your arms that you held out to him, explaining he had left them a while ago. his body itself didn’t change much, so you figured they should still fit. you didn’t want his sweaty dishevelled suit on your bedsheets.

as he changed, you paced back and forth in your bedroom nervously, thinking about all the possible things that could happen. but you stopped quickly when you heard the bathroom door unlock, practically jumping to lay in bed. you tucked yourself into one side of the large bed, covers pulled up to your chin as you face away from him.

you heard him pause for a moment before you felt the bed dipping behind you and the covers shifting as he blanketed himself too. despite there being a considerable amount of space between you, you still felt him body heat brushing against yours in the thick silence. even though you can’t see him, you knew for a fact he’s probably laying on his back to look at the little glow-in-the-dark stars you stuck to my ceiling years ago and never took down.

you sighed and whispered, “hongjoong?”

“uh-huh?” he hummed, eyes closed for a moment before he turning his head to glance at your back.

you squeezed your eyes shut, taking a deep breath before finally asked the thing you’d been dying to know. “did you ever miss me?”

“more than anything,” he breathed and you felt him shift to lay on his side, facing you. he wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold you like he used to. his voice held a hint of melancholy but he didn’t elaborate more.

you turned too after a moment, not taking a second to notice just how close he was, the thick white covers shifting slightly from the movement. your voice quivered slightly as you spoke, eyes stinging with welling tears. “i missed you too, you know… i missed you every day since you left and every day i hoped you’d come back. but you never did.”

his heart clenched at you admission, the voice he loved so much threatening to turn into sobs. the truth was, he wanted to, countless nights sat alone, wishing he turned back to knock on your door.

“i-i wanted to,” he stammered, whispering ashamedly.

“it’s fine, i got over it,” you forced yourself to focus on the pillow under his head instead of his handsome face.

his brows furrowed as you averted your gaze, eyes following yours even if you refused to look at him. he knew you well enough to know when you lied. he knew you well enough to know you didn’t get over it. didn’t get over him. he mumbled, “did you really?”

your lip trembled at his question but you kept your gaze locked on the white fabric, pressing them together to get them to stop as a few tears spill over the corners of your eyes.

you shook your head, your little voice breaking with overwhelming emotions, “n-no, i didn’t.”

you shifted your look to his hesitantly, your skin tingling from his warmth. your eyelids fluttered as you tried to hold back the tears.

"don’t," he whispered, thumb slipping down to caress your jaw. his eyes searched yours, your eyes wide with sadness and something he couldn’t quite understand. "don’t hide it. you don’t always have to be so strong. not in front of me.”

those words snapped something in your mind, no longer able to swallow down the lump in your throat as you threw yourself into his inviting arms, yours wrapping around his neck as you sobbed into the slope of his shoulder.

“why- why did you leave, w-why didn’t you come back... p-please, i need to know.”

he didn’t expect the sudden break down, but still held you close. one hand at the back of your head, the other holding you by your waist, your bodies pressed against each other and he let his lips press against the top of your head, making you shiver.

he rubbed your back, letting your tears fall wherever they man, muttering reassurances iagainst your hair. his faint scent of whiskey and mint mingled with your vanilla shampoo, his eyes shutting at the oddly comforting mix of smells. you felt him press repeated kisses to your messed up hair.

sobs racked your body for a few more minutes before the tears stopped falling and your breaths evened. you nodded against him, pulling your head away from him to look up at his face, at his eyes. the hand at the back of your head slipped forward to cup your cheek again, brushing his finger along your skin. he traces your cheek bone and along your harline down to your jaw, his eyes shifting between yours in disbelief that his skin was on yours once again.

“i was afraid,” he admitted, barely a whisper, “i was afraid that if i came back, i’d fall for you more… and then i wouldn’t have been able to spend a day without you, wouldn’t be able to chase after my dream. but… at the time, i didn’t recognise you were part of it, you know, my dream.”

your breath hitched as the words registered, “you- what?”

you cut him off with something you'd been wanting to do for a while; you kissed him, hands holding either side of his face. his eyes are widened in surprise, though he didn’t hesitate to lean into the kiss, returning it as quickly as you did it. his hands tightened around you, pulling you as close as he could.

your lips fit against eachother so perfectly, like the lego sets you’d force him to build with you when you were younger, every curve and edge of your bodies slotting together naturally. he got lost in the sensation of finally getting what he dreamed of, a hand slipping below the hem of your shirt to hold onto your bare waist, just wanting to feel closer to you.

his mouth tasted of exactly what he smelled like, mint and traces of whiskey, whimpering against his lips as you welcomed the taste and the touch. your whimper unlocked something, the kiss growing more urgent, restlessly pushed against each other without air left between. you could barely breathe, but you didn’t care as long as his lips stayed locked on yours for as long as possible.

but eventually, he bit down on your bottom lip ever so slightly before pulling away, catching his breath as you caught yours. your chest heaving as you refilled your lungs with air, face flushed from the realisation of what you just did and from the thought of what else you might do.

he glanced down at your swelling parted lips, jimmy coated by your mixed saliva, his pupils blown wide with desire.

“i wanna…” he mumbled, breath unsteady, “i want to…”

he wasn’t sure what he was trying to say, at least not until he noticed the way you peered up at him expectantly with that curious gaze. “what is it, joong?”

that nickname. he hadn’t heard it in a while. three years, actually, because you were the only one that called him that. his eyes searched yours.

“i want to do that again,” he admitted, cheeks warming, “and again and again and again… and so much more than just that.”

your breath hitched, intestines tied into knots as you struggled to figure out what you should say. the truth was that you wanted that too, wanted to feel his lips and hands all over your body. but, as his breath fanned over your face and you caught the traces of alcohol folded into the smell of mint gum, you were reminded that there was a thin possibility he didn’t mean any of it.

“you’re drunk, joong… it’s better if we don’t.”

he frowned, his grip on you loosening. “but you want to, don’t you?” he countered, “you know you want this too, so why not?”

“i just-“ you paused to sigh, continuing with an even tone, “i just don’t want you to regret anything.”

“i meant every goddamn thing i said,” his brows furrowed for a moment and he squinted, trying to emphasise his point, “so, i can’t regret this. i can’t regret you.“

you bit your lip, thinking carefully before sighing, the tension leaving your body as you played with the string of his hoodie.

“how about this…” you suggested, speaking slowly, “if you can wake up and tell me you remembered all this, then we can see where this goes.”

“and if i don’t, you’ll never mention in again?”

you nodded, slightly anxious as you wait for him to agree. it didn’t take too long, seemingly an acceptable compromise for him as he nodded.

“okay,” he agreed, his hand on your waist beneath your shirt tightening once again, “let me just kiss you one more time though, i won’t be able to sleep if you don’t.”

you laughed at his silly excuse, forehead dropping against his shoulder for a moment before lifting to look at him again with a grin that made you feel so stupid and in love. “fine, just one more time.”

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet @atzhouse

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

#cromernet #wonderlandnet #atzhouse #cultofdionysusnet #pirateeznet #ateez x reader #ateez #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong imagine #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong fluff #hongjoong angst #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez smut

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palajae · 2 months

Text

nevertheless…

PAIRING... heeseung x reader | GENRE... established relationship! au, fluff, humor, romance | WC... 0.4k | "there’s no freaking way."

“seungie~” you drawl on, excitedly hopping into your boyfriend’s room.

he hums in response, eyes still focused on the screen in front of him. you pay no heed to him, instead plopping down on his plush bed. however, in your hands lies a precious item.

“i finally got your new album!”

this time heeseung turns to look at you, amused at your excitement. he cocks an eyebrow, “oh really?”

you nod vigorously, hands scratching at the plastic wrap.

“i wanted to open it with you.”

he chuckles, “i hope you like it.”

“of course i’m gonna like you,” you roll your eyes while taking off the cover. nothing beat the smell and feel of a fresh album—especially your boyfriend’s, at that.

heeseung’s attention returns to his game as you flip through the photobook, occasionally letting out sounds of approval and awe.

it’s not until you dramatically clap a hand over your mouth that heeseung finally stops his game.

“there’s no freaking way.”

even though your voice is muffled, heeseung can hear the evident shock. he immediately takes off his headphones, controller falling to the floor.

“what? baby, what is it?”

you look up—was that tears in your eyes?—before scrambling off the bed.

his eyes narrow before they focus in on what was in your hand.

“is that-“

“i got jungwon’s photocard!” you dance around the room, happiness clearly present on your face and by your actions.

your boyfriend (not jungwon) is left speechless.

it’s been five minutes and you haven’t stopped staring at the photocard.

“i think i’m gonna put it in the back of my phone case…”

“baby?”

“or should i just leave it-“

“baby!”

heeseung’s voice startles you. he usually never raised his voice.

“yeah?”

he pinches his nose bridge in disbelief before speaking up, “are you serious?”

you look at him straight in the eyes, “uh, yeah. why?”

heeseung lets out a deep sigh like he’s been at sea for 40 years. “you’re that happy that you got a jungwon photocard?”

you look at him sheepishly, “if it makes you feel any better, i got your postcard?”

he can only blink. and then laugh at the situation, shaking his head. whatever made you happy, he supposed.

your boyfriend gets up to kiss your forehead. “fine. congrats on pulling jungwon, i guess. as long as he doesn’t replace me in real life.”

you scoff, “as if. i got the real deal—the whole package! you’re way better than the blurry half-face selfies you post in bed for the fans.”

heeseung bursts out laughing, staring at you fondly. “i’ll take that as a compliment.”

you place a small peck on his shoulder, “good. because i lied.”

heeseung frowns, “what?”

“i got jake’s postcard, not yours...”

“that son of a-“

a/n ▸ can you tell i wrote this ages ago for enha’s cb 💀💀 anyways, i just wanted to say thank you x928384 for 2000 followers like WHAT i am eternally in shock..!! i never thought i would have made it this far when i first joined, so im immensely grateful and ily all❤️

MAIN TAGLIST ▸ @precioussoulofmine @kynrki @heesterical @jungwonize @nvertheless @duolingofanaccount @hoeshii @love-4-keum @luvhyun3 @dimplewonie @yjjungwon @who-tf-soddhi @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @asteria-wood @noajakah236482 @enhacatalog @june-pop @ohsjy @ashtxrie @isoobie

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@kflixnet

#enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #heeseung x reader #heeseung fluff #heeseung scenarios #heeseung imagines

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glitterjay · 3 months

Note

needy jungwon after a tiring day of schedules...dance practice, variety shows, photoshoots. poor baby is just so tired yet so needy for reader :(

⭒ crying, humping / riding, clothed sex(?, praising, suggestive content under cut, mdni

⭒ c's note: your wish is my command | mlist!

⭒ taglist: @hollyoongs @moon7jay @wondipity @defnotfertilizedtoesw @kwiwin

enhypen's schedules have been very tight and busy as of lately. with the new comeback freshly released to the public, many variety shows and photoshoots have had to be done by the boys to promote their newest album.

jungwon seemed to be struggling the most out of the seven. according to jay, jungwon slept a lot less, staying late in the practice rooms to master the dances, having talks with the agency as their leader, and discussing what shows they would like to attend.

so, it was music to jungwon's ears when they were told they had reached the last week of promotions. instead of staying at the dorms, they were allowed to go home during that week, each of them individually. he took this as an opportunity to visit your apartment.

you were happy when you received a message from your boyfriend. you had been craving his love, his affection, and... his touch.

you prepared a homemade meal for him to enjoy when he arrived, lighting the scented candles that gave a fresh smell to your home. you had a white t-shirt of his that you stole before he left for his promotion. you knew you'd miss him, so why not keep something that smelled like him?

music was blasting throughout the apartment. you still had some time to get ready and look pretty for him, or so you thought. the sound of footsteps made you lower the music you had on, puzzled as jungwon had said he'd probably arrive at night.

there was a soft knock on the door, and you looked through the peephole. it was no other than yang jungwon himself. you opened the door with a smile on your face. "i missed you."

he smiled back and quickly pushed you back inside the apartment, clsing the door behind him. he stared at you up and down as if he'd suddenly forget how you look. "i was going to get ready," you defended yourself, "but you got here earlier than expected."

"i need you." he said. "i need you so bad."

your heart fluttered at his words, and there was an evident blush on your cheeks. you didn't know what to say. what could you say? you walked closer to him and closed the gap between the two of you. something jungwon would've done if you didn't move.

he grabbed you by the waist. his kisses were hard and fast, very messy. he walked both of your bodies to the couch, separating his face from yours to get some air and sit. he unbuckled his belt quickly. he was desperate. it took you by surprise when jungwon only undid his zipper, somehow taking his cock out through the entrance.

he hissed as the cold air of the room hit his sensitive shaft. he looked up at your dumbfounded figure with big glossy eyes, tiny sobs already leaving his pretty mouth. "so so bad."

you were glad he caught you before you got ready completely. you startled his lap, the length of his cock perfectly under your clothed cunt. the feeling of the fabric against his skin made jungwon throw his head back, right hand hanging right on top of his eyes, other hand resting on your hip.

you started humping his dick slowly at first, picking up your pace eventually. your boyfriend was a mess under you. his hips bucked up unconsciously, loud whimpers filling up your living room along his sobs. " 't hurts! hurts so bad!" he cried.

you removed the hand that was covering his face, grabbing his chin with your thumb and index finger, forcing him to look at you. his face was read, tear stains on his cheeks as new ones built in his eyes. "you're doing so good for me, baby."

he threw his head back again. he was so desperate to cum, and you knew exactly how to help him. you used the strength of your knees to get up just a little bit, your boyfriend's head shoting up at the sudden loss of contact. you rid up the huge shirt that was covering your body to reveal only your panties.

jungwon grianed at the sight, his mouth watering as his dick twitched. you aligned your entrance with his tip, and without a warning, you slammed yourself down on his cock.

"hagh! hmm!"

the sudden pleasure took him by surprise. the way you staid still for a little, clenching your walls around him before slamming your entire weight down on him, had him seeing stars. " 'm- 'm so close!"

jungwon managed to grab you by the hip before you slammed down on him again, bucking his hips up into the air. white ropes of cum shot out as he moaned loudly, head thrown back as his strong arms held you in place.

you sat next to him, brushing the hair that was sticking to his forehead out of the waym you kissed his temple and smiled. jungwon turned his head to look at you, panting loudly. "what a great welcome, love."

reblogs, requests, comments, suggestions, etc. are greatly appreciated! ask is open~~

#— ✿ c's work!#enhypen #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #engene #kpop smut #hard hours #kpop #enhypen jungwon #enhypen jungwon smut #jungwon #jungwon smut #yang jungwon

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hunnylagoon · 5 months

Text

When I Was Your Girl

Stage Fright

Rockstar! Ellie Williams x pop star! Reader

‘Fame is a poison most would drink happily despite the warning of a slow and painful death’

Premise: You and fell in love as nobodies and fell out of love in the limelight. Now you are forced to deal with ghosts who haunt you like a melody.

Warnings: small mentions of drinking and drugs / wee bit of violence / Ellie is a dick

Fake albums mentioned: Solstice / Smokey Eyes

I've never been anything more than a joke.

I'm so childish they took it for maturity, and I'm so serious they took it for silly.

Even since I began my career, I was spotted at eighteen by a skeezy producer when I sold myself at a strip club to make ends meet, because dreaming never paid the bills. I wish that I had been found somewhere else, maybe one of the restaurants I sang at on karaoke nights or the park where I poured my soul into art through my uncle’s old acoustic guitar.

"How are you feeling right now?" A tanned woman with slick back hair shoves a microphone into my face while an emotionless man holds the camera. "I mean, seven years in the industry and you've just received your first Grammy nominations."

"I'm feeling kind of freaked out, to be honest," I face the woman with a sheepish smile on my face, trying the best I can not to look at the large camera lurking beside me.

"Rightfully," Her teeth are so white that they almost blind me and I get distracted by myself as I try to figure out whether they are veneers or not. "Do you think you'll be bringing any hardware home tonight?"

She moves the microphone back to my face and I flinch out of instinct, we both laugh for the camera but I can tell she's annoyed "Honestly, I'm just happy to be here, as corny as it sounds it is such an honour to be around so many incredible artists."

"So humble," She smiles then turns to the camera to address the viewers "I think we all know she's gonna be sleeping tonight with a golden gramophone under her pillow," She forces a laugh, trying to capture the raw essence of this overly manufactured moment. The interviewer turns back to me "Now, I know this isn't your first rodeo, is there anyone here you aren't looking forward to seeing, you don't have to name any names."

Fuck I hate these bloodsuckers. She is so obviously trying to milk my broken engagement which was still very much fresh. I uphold my false smile though and shake my head "Nope, if anything I think I'm looking forward to some mingling,"

She looks irritated, covering it up only by a close-lipped smile. "Well, then I'll let you get on with that."

I give her a curt wave and continue my way down the red carpet, maneuvering through other celebrities, we all have common ground, we are blinded by the flashing lights. I try my best to avoid any more journalists but I see Abby Anderson speaking to one and sneak up behind her, tapping her on the shoulder.

She turns around and greets me with a huge smile "I was wondering when I was gonna see you," Abby smiles and slings an arm around my shoulders looking to the journalist while I glance at the camera "I'm telling you, this girl needs to clear some space out on her trophy shelf."

I grin at her, genuinely. Abby had always been kind to me, we first met when I was nineteen and the both of us signed up for Atlantic Records. "She's just being nice," I say.

"And she's just being humble!" Abby squeezes me, it's a simple gesture but it means the world to me, it's her way of saying 'I got you'.

I shake my head "Abby is gonna be the real winner tonight."

The man holding a microphone in front of us smiles "We'll see who's right, my bet is both of you," He turns his attention to me directly "So I understand that you took a bit of a break after releasing your album, Solstice, is this considered your comeback?"

"Nope," I smile despite wanting to snatch the microphone from his hand and beat the camera with it until it shatters "There isn't anything to come back from."

He tilts his head giving the over-animated 'Are you serious?' look for whoever is watching. Every journalist was like a vampire trying to bleed me dry. The journalist, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit that exudes both sophistication and confidence searches his mind for another question "Well your album honestly was such a work of art and there has been talk that you are working on another one, is there anyone here that inspired any of those songs?"

"Nope."

"I think we should ask Ellie the same question," He laughs at his joke like it was funny.

"And I think we should be heading off now," Abby answers for me and guides me away from the barricade of reporters and journalists, away from the cameras prying into my soul.

As I walk along the red carpet, I don't bother to stop and pose for any more pictures, I pick up the long skirts of my dress and usher myself to weave between the other celebrities. I nearly turn my ankle and take a tumble, wow, sure glad that 30 photographers caught that moment.

I was drenched in a deep, enchanting shade of midnight blue, the gown captivated with its sleek silhouette. The magic shows in the intricate details that adorn the fabric, reminiscent of the cosmos itself. Delicate embroidery of constellations graces the entire dress, forming a celestial tapestry that seems to come alive under the harsh shine of lights. The celestial patterns are meticulously sewn into the fabric, resembling a night sky filled with stars and constellations, creating an ethereal and otherworldly charm. Paired with the constellation dress, I wear a diamond choker and matching teardrop earrings.

I had lost Abby at some point in my little runaway leaving me to get into the auditorium where the award ceremony is to take place.

Nearly the very second I walk in I hear a man yell my name, he is seated in the second row and it takes an awkwardly long amount of time for him to jog over to me. "Hey, kid!" He grins, hugging me, I don't hug him in return, I just freeze. It was Graham Wilson, I could smell the liquor on his breath.

Graham Wilson was a man who used to write very successful rock songs in his twenties with his band (the majority now deceased), he was nearing his sixties and was the definition of a has-been. I remember when I was a kid and I would listen to him on my iPod; though in recent days he's become known for ridiculous stunts, DUIs and homophobic tweets, even better known for how he found out I was gay and announced that he was no longer homophobic because, in his words 'Those gays can sure write good music' and then thanked me in his tweet, even tagging my account.

His frame carries the weight of a bygone era, specifically his beer belly. His once-lustrous, shoulder-length hair has succumbed to streaks of gray, hanging limply around his face like faded echoes of a rebellious past. Despite the passage of time, a few remnants of the rockstar allure linger - a faint scar above his right eyebrow, a reminder of a wild night in an underground club, and the subtle tattoos peeking out from under the sleeves of his wrinkled suit jacket.

"Hey, Graham," I give him a tight-lipped smile out of courtesy, in no means do I wish to talk to him.

"You better win best album tonight," He gives me a hard slap on the back. Every time I see him he acts like we're friends just because he was a judge on a singing reality show that I was on seven years prior.

"I'll try my best," I try to excuse myself but he speaks again.

"I said seven years ago when I saw you on that stage that you were gonna be a star so don't let me down," He points a finger at me and gives me a weird smirk. When he smirks I almost think he's having a stroke until he starts to laugh and reveals his rows of teeth that are beginning to rot from his not-so-subtle drug abuse.

"Okay," I give him a nod and a quick wave goodbye to sneak away and pretend that I didn't converse with him. It seems like I'm early to take my seat, people are still piling in and being ushered to their spots, and seat fillers are standing around sheepishly while they try to take discreet photos of celebrities.

My seat is on the end of row two, right on the aisle, I feel myself split into a grin. If you weren't aware, Who sits where is a major status symbol. And though awards show organizers may deny it, it's awfully convenient to be sitting in the front row or on the aisle if you're about to accept a ton of trophies.

I was shaking with nerves, I got nominated three times and maybe there was hope that I would win at least one category.

When I saw Ellie I almost wanted to hide my face, she walked in with a new girl she slung her arm around, Jesse, Dina, and Cat in tow. I'm thankful to see that they're sitting front row of the opposite section of me and have yet to notice me.

I'm not sure if you have ever fallen in love, dated, gone on tour, moved in together, adopted a dog, written a couple of songs, got engaged, then broken up with someone and had the entire thing be documented publically but it's not the best feeling when you have to be in the same room as them again.

Everything with Ellie used to be so perfect.

The first thing I ever noticed about her were her eyes, her sad eyes. She looked like a puppy that had been kicked around for far too long; neglected and mistreated by whoever was cruel enough to show her such torment. Her eyebrows furrowed like each thought running through her head was a worry.

It's hard to look at her now, I know this girl inside out but we are strangers.

I liked to pretend that the beautiful girl she was with was just there for show but I knew it was untrue when I saw her snake her hand around her waist just like she did to me. She runs through girls like they're cigarettes, she uses them until they burn out or she grows sick of them.

Two years ago at this very same award show, Ellie accepted Song of the Year for the song she wrote about me, 'Everlong'. She had even invited me on stage during her speech and announced to the world how in love she was with me.

If only I knew I could come to hate someone I used to love to death.

My hate was only solidified when Ellie and the Ashmen dropped their most recent album titled 'Smokey Eyes' just three months after our broken engagement. The entire album was about me and dear god it almost ruined my career.

Ellie had managed to paint me in a horrible light that made me seem like the scum of the earth. She wrote about me having substance issues and overall just sang happily about how much she despised me. Her song 'Me vs Your Friends' wrecked me. After speculation began over that song online, her fans decided that they loathed me just the same as Ellie did; this meant that I was doxxed, sent death threats, had my home broken into, and forced to move.

She wasn't the slightest bit sorry.

I spent the award ceremony dazed out, to be truthful, these types of events were boring. They dragged on for ages and you had to sit through the same generic speeches over and over again of people thanking their parents and producers, I hated both of those.

I watched as Amelia Swan walked on stage, she was a nepotism baby, the daughter of some big-shot director and beautiful all the same. In the glittering spotlight of the grand award show stage, a vision of elegance takes center stage as the next announcer for the evening. A beautiful woman, her porcelain skin seemingly kissed by moonlight, graces the audience with a timeless allure. Her dark, cascading hair frames her face in a sleek, sophisticated manner, accentuating the delicate features that radiate a captivating charm.

Draped in a resplendent pink gown, the fabric sits tight against her slim body. The gown is a masterpiece of design. Its silhouette accentuates her figure with tasteful precision, while the soft hue of pink complements her fair complexion.

"Hello!" She smiles and the crowd begins to cheer "I'm going to cut to the chase because I know all of you are as excited to find out the winner as I am."

Amelia begins to go through the nominees, my breath hitches in my throat when she says my name, though I play it cool the best I can and smile softly when the camera zooms in on me in the crowd.

Her eyes, framed by carefully styled lashes and a hint of rosy eyeshadow, exude warmth and confidence. Lips adorned with a subtle shade of pink curve into a welcoming smile, inviting the audience to share in the excitement of the announcement.

"The winner of Album of the Year is..." I could've sworn I nearly passed out when Amelia said my name.

Nothing felt real, it was like I was living the dreams that I made up when I was a little girl staying up late in my uncles back yard, talking to the indigo sky and speaking to it with delusions of security and stardom.

I shake when I stand up from my chair. The person next to me hugs me and I don't even know who she is but I hug her in return.

Amelia gestures for me to join her on stage with a huge smile on her face. I make my way down the aisle and up the steps leading to the stage. Amelia handed the statue of the golden gramophone to me along with the microphone to give my speech.

At this moment, the stage is my kingdom "I didn't prepare anything because I honestly didn't think I would win but I'd like to thank my little sister, Marceline, and my late uncle, Richie, god rest his soul. Everything I've done leading me to this moment has been for them, every lyric, every night I'm up till dawn writing. Even though Richie can't be here in person, I carry a little piece of him with me everywhere I go, he's all around me, I see him in the songs I write, in the melody of an acoustic guitar, and in the faces of those gentle enough to show me kindness."

The audience applauds for me, even Ellie who stares me down bitterly. I had sung in front of thousands of people but it would never compare to this moment.

I wipe a tear away from my eye "I would also like to thank all of my fans, you guys are just the fucking best," I giggle through my crying "I feel like you've been sent down by Richie and Marceline I know you're watching me right now, please give my dog some love for me. Please know that I don't come from anything, I was born from dirt and dreams for something more than a ratty town in Canada."

I lived for the applause.

"I mean, I've always been good and never great so this means a lot to me-

Ameilia places a hand on my shoulder to stop me "There was a bit of a mix-up," She announces "I'm sorry, love, you didn't win," She says just to me, dark eyes full of remorse.

"What?" I almost think it's a sick joke.

Amelia holds the microphone to her face to be heard by the audience "I'm not joking," She shows the contents of a card to the crowd "The real winners for album of the year are Ellie and the Ashmen for their album Smokey Eyes." Gasps sound from the audience and I can only imagine what those watching from home are doing

The camera pans to where Ellie, Dina, Jesse, and Cat sit, Ellie is laughing; not laughing, cackling, it only grows and now she's laughing so hard she can barely breathe. Suddenly I didn't feel like I was king of the world, it felt like the desolation of a hangover had hit me in the span of 90 seconds.

Dina gives Ellie a harsh elbow to her bicep, telling her to be respectful. The four of them rise from their chairs and make their way up to the stage, where I stand, paralyzed.

"Congratulations," I give Ellie a tight-lipped smile and hand the award off to her.

She smiled smugly at me and took it "Thanks, smokey eyes," Ellie held the statue up to display it. Smokey eyes was a nickname she had given me when we first met since I always had dark circles she said they looked like smoke from a forest fire. I told you that album was about me. What made me more mad is that it was such a stupid fucking nickname.

My mouth goes dry, it tastes like salt and failure.

I take many steps back, trying to hide myself at the back of the stage while I watch the Ashmen bathe in the glory I thought was mine.

"I didn't prepare anything because I honestly didn't think I would win," Ellie begins to mock me "But I'd like to thank my best friends, Dina, Jesse, and Cat, I couldn't have done it without you," She motions at her band members beside her "But I also couldn't have done it without my dad, thank you, Joel, you're out there in the cheap seats but I fucking love you," She waves out into the crowds somewhere before handing the microphone off to Dina.

"I am so beyond grateful-

"No!" Someone yells from the ground and all attention turns to him "This is not fair!" Graham shouts, walking up the stairs. Everyone in the room looks at one another trying to figure out what is going on. Graham snatches the microphone from Dina "I'm proud of you four but listen."

Everyone is silent completely, no one is sure what to do so we let Graham continue.

"I met everyone on this stage seven years ago," He throws one arm out for dramatics "Except for Amelia, I don't know you," Graham is more dishevelled than he was when I saw him earlier that night "Let me tell all of you that Ellie was in love with this girl since the day they met!" Graham points at me, now things are getting weird, well weirder. “I know because I was there and you all saw it on TV!”

It was no secret that Ellie and I were together since we met on Road to Stardom, a singing reality show where people compete for-well, stardom. Every step of our relationship had been very public, not by choice but by unfortunate circumstances. It is for this reason I was afraid of what Graham would spout next.

"Without her, Smokey Eyes wouldn't have ever been written, Ellie would've had no inspiration for it," He babbles "But more so my point is, Solstice deserved to win, Smokey Eyes is mediocre at best!"

People in the audience look genuinely concerned, I spot Abby in the third row. She has one hand covering her mouth from pure shock, her eyebrows are furrowed and she almost looks like she's going to throw up.

"Solstice is the best album to listen to when you're high off salvia on your bathroom floor!" Graham points back at me.

I see Cat mutter something to Jesse along the lines of "He's not wrong."

"Smokey Eyes has three good songs and Solstice has thirteen!" Graham suddenly stops to turn and look at me, he grabs my wrist "Come up here and finish your speech," I shake my head no but he pulls me up anyway.

I freeze, petrified. My eyes are wide and my lips are pressed together in a thin line. I didn't know what to do. Why wasn't anyone doing anything?

Graham's head suddenly snaps from me to Ellie where he takes an intoxicated step closer to her "Give me that damn award, you don't deserve it, especially not after mocking the woman who inspired it!" He lunges for the statue, at first Ellie is stubborn and holds onto it tight.

After 30 seconds of Graham trying to pry the stature away, Ellie gives up and releases it, figuring it best not to fight with a drunk man; in doing so Graham's elbow flies back from sudden loss of resistance and hits me dead in my nose. I yelp out in pain bending over into a crouch and clutching my nose. Graham stumbles back and trips over me, though he is still holding on tight to the statue.

Jesse approaches him slowly. "Hey, man, It's me, I think we should all just settle down and talk this through," He tries to act cool but his eyes are full of worry "I agree, I think Solstice is a great album and it really deserved to win."

Graham clumsily rolled onto his stomach and then stumbled back onto his feet. He was staring Jesse down like this was the Wild West.

Dina rushed over to me to make sure I was okay "Let me see," She gingerly moved my hands away from my nose, it had been knocked crooked and blood was pouring down to my chest where it pooled at the neckline of my dark dress.

Graham chucked the golden gramophone at Cat who jumped back when he did so and took a swing at Jesse who didn't move an inch or even shudder from his drunken punch. It also didn't help Graham that he was a solid four inches shorter than Jesse. Just as Graham was hyping himself up to send another hit, two bulky men grabbed either of Graham's arms and dragged him off the stage and out of sight.

I went home that night with nothing more than a broken nose, and no award but I could rest knowing that night went down infamously in history. My blood dripped onto the stage of the Grammys.

That was the night I truly became famous.

Grade eight- Age thirteen

Middle school is hard.

Even harder when you have two friends, one of them is a guy who is obsessed with Star Wars and is hardly at school because he's always having an allergic reaction, and the other friend is my English teacher. I ate lunch in her class while he graded schoolwork on days that Milo was too sick to show up for school.

I never understood why kids are so fucking mean. Like sometimes I'm having a good day and then I remember when I sang at the middle school talent show.

Some kid who was destined to have a blunt in his hand finished doing tricks on his skateboard rolled off stage and it was my turn.

In the dimly lit auditorium, adorned with colourful decorations for the annual school talent show, I took center stage with my guitar, a blend of excitement and nervousness etched across my face. The hushed whispers of the audience faded as I strummed the first chords, the notes carrying the beginning to the first of many performances in my life

"If you gave me only one wish,

I wouldn't want to feel this way.

They told me I'd have your memory

But all I want is you to stay

And I can't stop my mind from haunting me,

It's like a scar on a butterfly's wing,

I wanted you to know."

I had worked tirelessly to perfect the lyrics to my first ever song, begging my uncle who was far more practiced for his input. This was way back when I still lived in fuck ass nowhere Alberta, I had that country twang in my high voice though it carried a specific tenderness.

"This beautiful pain that I feel is all because of you

And one day these bones will heal

And they'll leave me with the truth

And I'll give you everything if it's the last thing that I do.

This beautiful pain, this beautiful pain

This beautiful pain for you."

However, as I sang my little heart out, a different melody began to play in the background - the snickers and hushed comments of some classmates who couldn't appreciate the vulnerability I laid bare on the stage. Their laughter, like discordant notes in a once-harmonious piece, reverberated through the auditorium.

"If I sailed the world on stormy seas

Chasing sunlight that I can't see.

I was a dreamer here before,

Before I woke up and fell to the floor

And I'd climb to heaven if I could find you,

Even with a scar this butterfly flew.

I wanted you to know."

I spotted one group in particular, they hated me already and this would give them all the more reason to bully me.

"This beautiful pain that I feel is all because of you

And one day, these bones will heal

And they'll leave me with the truth

And I'll give you everything if it's the last thing that I do

This beautiful pain, this beautiful pain, this beautiful pain."

Maybe the lyrics were the slightest bit corny but I was thirteen and these girls were being little cunts. I bit back the tears I so clearly wanted to release when I saw a teacher had to walk over to the group of girls to stop their laughing. It wasn't just that one group though, kids scattered all over were fighting back giggles and that made it hurt all the worse.

"And all I'll ever need

And all I'll ever be,

Within every part of me is this,

This beautiful pain that I feel is all because of you

And one day these bones will heal

And leave me with the truth

And I'll give you everything 'cause it was all I ever knew.

This beautiful pain,

For you."

As the last note hung in the air, the room was divided. Some applauded, recognizing the authenticity of my performance, while others continued their derisive comments. So the majority who liked my singing were teachers, but that didn't matter, at least my music got through to someone.

The rest of the day was even more difficult than my three-minute performance, at least that was over quickly but the comments from Kennedy and her friends left me leaving school in tears.

I didn't go home that day, I walked the extra ten minutes to get to my uncle's house. Lugging my guitar and newfound hate for music with me. The façade, adorned with a mismatched collection of potted plants and a welcoming, hand-painted sign that read ‘Home Sweet Home’ hinted at my uncle's efforts to infuse joy into his surroundings. The paint on the wooden shutters might have faded, but they held stories of many seasons gone by. The roof, patched with a variety of materials, showed the resourcefulness of my uncle in their attempt to shield the interior from the whims of weather.

He tried to make the house look nice for me and my little sister. He was by no means rich in money but rich in what mattered, the love he had for me was overflowing.

It wasn't a particularly nice neighbourhood either, his house was small, with two bedrooms and a basement I wasn't allowed in. But every time I think of the chipped blue walls, I feel a warm sense of nostalgia run down my spine.

"Who's there?" I hear Uncle Richie call from the kitchen where he is cooking something.

"Just me," I yell back, dropping my guitar case on the ground and belly-flopping onto his old brown leather couch that had more tears in it than I could count; he had tried to stich some of them up with embroidery floss but ultimately gave up, deciding to let it be since he couldn't afford to replace it.

"Why aren't you at your mom's, Chickadee?"

"I don't wanna see Mom right now, she's gonna put me in an even worse mood," I call back grabbing the TV remote off of the water-damaged coffee table.

"What happened?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

Minutes later Richie walks into the living room to join me, he carries a bowl of Kraft Mac and cheese with two forks shoved in it, he taps the bottom of my socked feet, signalling for me to move them so he can fit on the couch with me. Uncle Richie has a buzz cut and beard stubble that I have never seen him without, he has never been seen without a flannel on, not as long as I've been alive. What I remember the clearest about him though was the scar beneath his right eye, when I was younger he would tell me that he got it from a pirate though I stopped believing that. "So are you going to tell me why you're sulking?"

I ignore him and he reaches for the remote to turn the TV off "Hey, I watching that," I mutter.

"Well I'm waiting for you to answer me, Chickadee," He tilts his head "Or you won't get any kraft dinner."

"I sang at the talent show today."

"And?"

"Everyone made fun of me."

He furrows his eyebrows "Why would they do that?"

"Why do you think?" I snark "Because I'm not good enough and I'm a bad singer and I have a shit guitar." I immediately regret my words. Uncle Richie was the one who gave me that guitar, it was all he could manage with his income, it was his back when he had dreams of his own but he fixed it up so I could pick up where he left off. The guitar itself had a cracking between the face and the side that was being held together with duct tape, not to mention the whole thing was basically reinforced with superglue and there were Sharpie drabbles on it of poems and potential songs Richie started that I will be sure to finish.

"This is the best guitar in the world," He reaches behind the couch where I left it slugs the case onto his lap and opens it to showcase the guitar "Because it's full of something money can’t buy, there is love built into this guitar and every time you play it you feel that love."

"I don't feel love when I play," I say, eyes brimming with tears.

"Then you're not playing right," He smiles, discarding the case on the floor "Did you play the song I helped you write?"

I nod "Kennedy said it was worse than shoving nails into her ears and that my guitar was decrepit and even more fugly than I am."

"Well Kennedy is a little cunt," He answers "Don't tell anyone I said that." His words make me giggle. I watch him intently as he begins to strum some chords on the guitar, the beginning of Beautiful Pain, he stops when I don't sing the lyrics, glancing at me until the words finally fall from my lips.

After the first two Stanzas, he hands the guitar off to me, nodding his head along to my gentle strums.

When I finish the song and strike the last chord, Richie claps a huge smile on his face "Do you feel the love yet?"

"I dunno."

"Then play again," He says "Don't think about those bitchy little girls," His tone is dead serious "You just gave all of those people a free performance, in ten years they are going to be paying hundreds just to get a bad seat at one of your shows and they will buried so far in the back of your mind that you won't even remember their names or all of those awful words they say to you, the only words that will matter are the ones you sing."

"So what do I do?"

"Play music because you love it, it doesn't matter if it takes you anywhere or if it makes you any money. That's why you should play, play for love not greed."

Wordlessly I begin the song over again, blocking out the rest of the world while I softly sing the lyrics. I strum each cord perfectly, my singing to match. I will forever think back to this moment, this is where I can pinpoint the exact second I fell in love with music.

I wrap up the song and Richie speaks up "Do you still want to watch TV?"

I shake my head "Can you help me write another song?"

Sinjinisoverboard: I love love love the new single but does anyone else miss her debut era?????? I feel like she's sold out

woodmonkey92: Reply to Sinjinisoverboard╰┈➤ this is so true, I remember when she would sing in parks and she was actually happy just being herself

theend_is_n3ar: Reply to woodmonkey92╰┈➤ bruh you don't remember that, she was a nobody when she sang in parks plus she literally got heckled and ridiculed by her classmates so bad that she gave up on singing in public and almost gave up on music as a whole

user37768638493: Reply to sinjinisoverboard╰┈➤ as much as I love her it really seems like she's fallen off the rails

conner_stoll_it: She's not even the same person anymore. I fell in love her original music and who she was when she wrote it, then she signed with a record label now she's an in-genuine copy of every pop star.

Alina_b12: Reply to conner_stoll_it╰┈➤ you fell in love with her old music?? 💀💀💀 she wasn't even past 100 subscribers when she released her debut album and after she released she literally gained 11 listeners on Spotify to get a total of 24 so don't lie and say that you heard it before hearing her mainstream music

Luciaisdonewithlife: Reply to conner_stoll_it╰┈➤ Her old music was so relatable, she got famous and it’s kind of hard to relate to someone who's net worth is more money then I can even fathom

hazeinmorningcraze: Reply to Luciaisdonewithlife╰┈➤I think that's why it was so easy for everybody to side with Ellie during the breakup, Ellie kept true to who she is, her girlfriend however did not.

Luciaisdonewithlife: Reply to hazeinthemorningcraze╰┈➤*fiancé

hazeinthemorningcraze: Reply to Luciaisdonewithlife╰┈➤ ew don't remind me

maiya_onthec0ast: Reply to conner_stoll_it╰┈➤ We should remember that no one listened to her when she released her debut music. She said in an interview that before she signed with Atlantic Records she had 24 listeners and 76 subscribers. We only know who she is because of her mainstream music, you aren't better than anyone for needlessly hating on her.

stargirlthesequel: God who else misses the southern twang she used to have in her voice?

Vampire_empire2: Reply to stargirlthesequel╰┈➤LMAO acting like you know her is crazy

Aline_b12: Reply to stargirlthesequel╰┈➤parasocial relationships are really becoming apparent rn

thismightbeskylarwwhiteyo: It's soooooo annoying when people hate on Solstice for being mainstream like all Ashmen discography isn't top on charters since they dropped their first album

dancedancerev0lution: Reply to thismightbeskylarwwhiteyo╰┈➤I've been saying this! Ellie has been in the industry way longer, she's always had a big fan base, even when she was still a solo artist!

elliespurplemonster: Reply to thismightbeskylaarwwhiteyo╰┈➤ Ellie Williams on 🔝

call_urm0ther: Reply to elliespurplemonster╰┈➤ kys she treated her fiancé horribly

elliespurplemonster: Reply to call_urm0ther╰┈➤ how would you know that????? Were you there??????

follow_kendra88: Reply to call_urm0ther╰┈➤Ellie was the one who was treated horribly in that relationship, have you even listened to Smokey Eyes?

ellies_no2girl: Reply to call_urm0ther╰┈➤Ellie was so in love and just got used for fame 🥺💔

call_urm0ther: Reply to ellies_no2girl╰┈➤fuck off with your cringe ass emojis

sorryyileft___:You guys are so weird for saying Ellie was used by her ex for fame, they literally were on the same show at the same age at the same time and got thrown into the limelight at the same time, Ellie and the Ashmen just got more popular.

mybodyisacage: Reply to sorryyileft___╰┈➤Ellie had a bit of a YouTube presence before she was on Stardom, it wasn't a crazy number but it was a cult following and that's why she won Stardom, bc she had fans to begin with then gained even more after being on national television

elliespurplemonster: Reply to mybodyisacage╰┈➤She didn't win bc of following she won bc she's a good artist

mybodyisacage: Reply to elliespurplemonster╰┈➤I never said she wasn't

bodhi_van34: I thought the whole thing at the Grammy's was an act until I saw all those news articles about Graham Wilson getting arrested

carlyswarly: Reply to bodhi_van34╰┈➤They did a drug test when he got arrested and found coke in his system

may0mayyyo: Reply to carlyswarly╰┈➤A busboy who worked the event said that Graham was doing cocaine in the bathroom

body_van34: Reply to may0mayyyo╰┈➤ LMAO WTF

charlotte_5freakingdidit: EVERYONE IS TALKING ABOUT ELLIE WILLIAMS BEING MEAN TO HER EX BUT GRAHAM WILSON LITERALLY ASSAULTED A POPSTAR ON STAGE AND TRIED TO THROW HANDS WITH JESSE LMAO IM DIFFUSING

juliaa__stirling: The way Ellie was laughing when Amelia said she messed up the cards was so rude and immature. Her fans are insane for defending her. All of that just because her ex fiancé gave a speech about working hard, imagine how she felt after being so honest with everyone just for her to not actually win and think about how she feels now reading all of these posts.

botoxangel: Celebrities have feelings too, Amelia made a mistake she's probably embarrassed but not as embarrassed as that poor woman is for putting her soul into a speech just for her ex and all of her fan girls to ridicule her for a mistake that wasn't even hers.

karaleaah778: Reply to botoxangel╰┈➤exactly! And why are people blaming Amelia??? She was given the envelope by someone else, she genuinely thought her friend won.

carlosislost: Why is Graham even invited to these events?????????

katie_katelynsm1th: Reply to carlosislost╰┈➤Bc it's funny when he causes a scene

howto_nevrst0ppbeingsad: I know you guys think this Grammy situation is so funny but it's really not. Graham is clearly mentally ill, this is a cry for help.

elleryc3llery: Reply to howto_nevrst0ppbeingsad╰┈➤Dude it's hilarious

3emmettttt: Reply to howto_nevrst0ppbeing sad╰┈➤The way you're worried about the has been and not the girl whose nose he broke

allysaaaa663638: LMAO THE WAY SHE ACTUALLY THOUGHT SHE WON THE AWARD AND SHE DESERVED IT SHDBDBEGHWWBSV

jessicadacoolest: Ellie is so real for laughing bc I would've done the same tbh

hennyrumwine: Dumb bitch deserved to be hit lollllllll

4444carmencarmen4444: I love the Ashmen's music but I hate Ellie sm, I just feel like she's a fuck girl and she gives me very rude vibes. Like laughing at her ex and then mocking her heartfelt speech is INSANE anyways stream Solstice

sittingwaiting_wishing: I honestly have hated Ellie since the breakup, she's changed so much since then. She used to be funny now she's just mean.

carissaandher_h0ttakes: I still think it's kind of crazy that Dina and Jesse followed through with Ellie on Smokey Eyes because they were really close to her when she was engaged to Ellie, can't imagine how many ties that album severed

elliessmokeyeye: Reply to carissaandher_h0ttakes╰┈➤I think about this all the time! She was literally the god mother for Dina and Jesses kid

carissaandher_h0ttakes: Reply to elliessmokeyeye╰┈➤it make me think that she might've done something to them to make them hate her the way Ellie does, Ellie did say that she didn't write all of the songs for Smokey Eyes 🤔🤔🤔

"Do you see how this backlash doesn't look good for anyone?" My agent, Caroline asks after showing me several Twitter posts that are under the trending tag.

"Well, it's not really my fault."

"Nonetheless, I think It's time for a rebrand." She sets her phone face down and looks at me from across her desk "Do you remember when you went on tour with the Ashmen when you were around twenty-one?"

My eyes go wide, I'm already shaking my head "Please-

"This is an awful event that you can turn into an amazing opportunity and capitalize on it," The backdrop behind Caroline is almost blinding, it's an annoyingly hot LA day and I want nothing more than to be back in Canada and swimming in lakes with my little sister.

"Caroline, mentally I can't handle a tour with Ellie."

"Mentally, you're gonna have to," She says, getting stern "Your fans either hate each other or they love both of you and feel like their parents have divorced."

I know that I will argue with Caroline for the next hour and threaten to fire her but eventually, she will win, so until then I am preoccupied with thoughts of everything but Ellie, soaking in the last moments I will have until she envelopes my brain and suffocates me from the inside out.

I am sure that with Ellie, I will die before winter comes and I am doubtful that I will ever bloom again.

409 notes · View notes

petcr3 · 3 months

Text

don't shed no tears | bradley bradshaw x reader

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

word count: 845

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

You almost hold it together.

Really, you almost do.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine,” you say miserably.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” you whisper.

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

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

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

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

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undreaming-fanfiction · 1 year

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Steve is pretty good at dealing with pain. Burns, scrapes, bites, bruises, he will just grit his teeth and get through it. It's almost like the more it hurts, the less he has to think about everything. But when he starts losing his hearing, there's no pain, nothing to shield him from his thoughts.

He's terrified. He already feels isolated, singled out in their small group, and of course he's concerned about not being able to respond, to live his life as he knew it, but what eventually breaks him is the smallest thing, the most insignificant, mundane thing.

He and Robin are sorting books in the Family Video and they have this unspoken ritual - whenever there is a theme song in the movie they're watching, Robin will hum it for the rest of the day, with exaggerated movements, directing the orchestra and everything. And Steve watches her one day and realizes - he will lose this. He will never hear Robin's voice again, her slightly husky and over the top renditions of whatever unlucky movie happens to play. He can't help it, his breathing becomes heavy and shaky and before he knows it, Robin is embracing him and he's trying to explain how scared he is, how he feels like his life is basically over, how he'll miss her silliness and they won't be able to talk on the phone when she leaves for college, he can't ever hear her hum anymore...

After an emotional evening and a pizza night with their favorite sitcom - with subtitles! - on, they go to work again, but Robin excuses herself for a bit, runs into the nearby store. When she comes back, she has a large sketchbook in her hand and a black marker. She starts scribbling along to the very faded melody that Steve is registering from the TV and when she hands her final work to him, he laughs and maybe cries a little. Maybe more than little.

What Robin drew for him looks like a mountain range. She created an axis for time and an axis for the "MUSICAL DRRRRAMA", indicating how intense the music is in each moment. And all of the intensity is annotated, not a single soud described, but rather how Steve and Robin still see their world, in all its silliness. "This part is mega sharp, reminds me of wanting to stab Tommy Hagan with a knitting needle", it says next to one peak. "Remember that really soggy and stale cookie we ate at your place because we were hungry? That's what it feels like" and "it's sooooo looooong and boooooring it's like Mrs. Click's class" and "the violin here is crispy. SPICY. Like the Chinese food we had last Thursday, it kind of never wants to stop burning".

It's then that Steve knows that he will be okay. There won't be phone calls, but there will be letters, so many letters with silly descriptions and drawings, nagging to practice his ASL and visits to check if he really did his homework. Robin will be better than him at it, of course she will, but even when they'll both be able to sign fluently, she will still hand him a new melody scribble now and then.

On Steve's first birthday without sound, she gives him a huge binder labelled "For my only schmuck: Steve's album". In it are tens of scribbles, all of the melodies they hummed together in the Family Video with fresh descriptions and inside jokes. And when she stands in front of all their friends, hands raised up like a conductor and under her guidance, the whole group signs "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, STEVE", he realizes that sounds might have been overrated, because there were no words to describe this kind of love.

#steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin #platonic stobin #hoh steve harrington #stobin drabble #stranger things drabble #stranger things

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oneforthemunny · 5 months

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Older Eddie, “baby,” fluff

"What're you doin' in here?" Eddie leaned against the doorway, hip pressed to the frame, arms crossed over his band tee, worn and faded from years of favored wear.

"Snooping." You grin, looking up at him.

Eddie snorted lightly, walking into the small room- a guest room he'd used as more of a storage space. "Yeah? Snooping for what? My deepest and darkest secrets? You already know them, bunny."

Your lips twisted, biting back a grin. "I was moving all my jackets out of the closet to the the hall one, and found all these photo albums." You tilt the small book towards Eddie. "Can't believe your hairs always been this big."

Eddie laughed, walking over to you, sinking onto the floor beside you with a small grunt. "Let me see." He squinted slightly. "Oh, yeah. That was right after Brielle was born. I almost cut it then."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah." Eddie laughed. "Wayne kept telling me to cut it or keep it back, and I didn't believe him. Then she got about four months? And she yanked the shit out of my hair all the time."

"That sounds about right." You giggled. "Sounds like a very Brielle thing to do."

"Yeah," Eddie rolled his eyes playfully. "Nothing like being half awake checking on a baby and getting your hair ripped out. That'll wake you up really quick."

You grinned, finger tracing down the photograph beside it. A much younger Eddie, still with wild curls and bright eyes that made you melt, holding a tiny Brielle. His features younger, softer, fresh ink on his arms, cradling the small bundle in his arms, beaming with pride at the camera.

"Are you going to cut your hair when the baby is born?" You asked, your hand going to your stomach instinctively.

It had only been a few weeks since you and Eddie found out you were expecting. You hadn't told anyone, yet, planning a surprise for your parents, Wayne, Brielle, and Madeline over the holidays, when you were in your second trimester.

"Nah, it'll just fall out when they yank it now." Eddie smirked playfully. "Too old. Not as attached as it was in my twenties."

"Good." You hummed, reaching out to swipe a spare curl behind his ear. "Don't cut it. I like it long."

"Yeah? I do too." Eddie grinned. "Glad we're on the same page, bunny."

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noyaspeach · 10 months

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first light

Summary: Could this be how every day begins?

After a long and restless night with no sleep, you go looking for something to while away the hours. As it turns out, Astarion is just as much of an insomniac as you are, and the two of you spend the early morning together.

Pairing: Astarion x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 4,334

Tags: Fluff and Light Angst, Pining, Feelings Realization (Kinda?), Second Person POV, Soft Astarion, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Insomnia, Watching the Sunrise

Author's Note:

not me returning to fic-writing over 3 years later with an astarion fic of all things. i can't even guarantee i'll write another one considering i'm about to start college again, but i would sure like to!

i was heavily inspired to write this because of the release of hozier's album. it perfectly aligned with me becoming obsessed with baldur's gate 3, and astarion is just so hozier-coded, how could i not? as the title suggests, i was inspired by the song "first light" which is the last song on the album, based on dante's ascent out of hell and his first taste of light and freedom. i imagine it's how astarion must have felt when he was no longer forced to do cazador's bidding and when he could finally experience sunlight again.

obligatory disclaimers: i haven't actually played the game yet, so this fic is informed by clips i've seen online, gif sets, the baldur's gate wiki, and other fics. if any details in this aren't chronologically sound or if anything seems a little non-compliant with the canon of the game... now you know why lol.

still, i hope you enjoy it! this is also posted to ao3! read here!

///

You stare up at the ceiling of your tent, frustration rolling in your chest as you struggle to rest. Your eyes are beginning to sting with the lack of sleep, but simply closing them does nothing to help. You’ve gone through all of your belongings twice already, looking for something to ease you into slumber, but no amount of reading or alcohol seems to do the trick. It certainly doesn’t help that the weather has been oppressively humid all night, leaving you coated in a thin, sticky layer of sweat that doesn’t seem to leave you no matter how many layers you shed.

You can’t bear to lay around in the thick air of your tent, so you decide to sit out by the extinguished campfire in the hopes that it will do more to relax you.

You quietly open your tent flap and emerge into the mild morning air. It’s much cooler outside, and a light breeze tickles your arm, already doing wonders to dry your sweat. It’s still too early for daylight, so the camp is only dimly illuminated by the moonlight. With the lack of light, you listen out for the sounds of the forest around you: the chirps of insects beneath you, hooting owls in the distance, and a trickling stream not too far away. Focusing on these scarce sounds, you already feel much calmer.

After a moment of peace, you hear a rustle to your right. You whip your head toward the sound, hands ready at your weapon, when you see a familiar face emerge from the trees. You let your hands drop to your side again. It’s just Astarion. He appears to be returning to his tent, noticeably empty-handed. You wonder what he’s up to this early in the morning, and he seems to be wondering the same thing, eyeing you with an inquisitive raise of the eyebrow.

“Restless sleeper, are we?” He remarks.

“Something like that,” you reply. “Just needed some fresh air.”

You notice that Astarion is still in his sleepwear, the sleeves of his white undershirt pushed up above his elbows. “And what are you doing out?”

“Oh, you know. Searching for a midnight snack, so to speak.” He gestures to the woods behind him. “Unfortunately, there isn’t a very fine selection tonight.”

You grimace at the thought of Astarion catching an innocent woodland creature between his teeth. It’s a less-than-flattering image, one that’s informed by the memory of the boar he drained a while back, and one that you’re eager to dismiss.

“Is that all you’ve been up to?” You ask.

“Why? Were you getting lonely without me?” He teases. You can only roll your eyes in response. When he doesn’t receive a retort, Astarion sighs and continues. “Right, if you want an honest answer, I was going for a stroll to pass the time.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Wandering about on your own while everyone’s asleep isn’t a very good idea. If something happens out there, none of us will be able to save you”

“Trust me, darling, I can hold my own just fine. But I appreciate you worrying about my safety. It’s almost touching.” He smirks. “I would appreciate it even more if you would refrain from telling the others about my… routine here. I don’t exactly want the company.”

“Routine? How long have you been taking these walks?”

“Since the day I joined you all, I would say.” Astarion’s eyes move to the entrance of his own tent. “I haven’t been able to get much sleep myself, and I figure there isn’t much use laying on my bedroll if I’m not resting or satisfying… other needs. So, I walk. And occasionally feed.”

You search Astarion’s face for any sign of deception, but he’s being surprisingly truthful, if a little bashful. You resonate with his sleeplessness, being something of an insomniac yourself. Despite the immense toll your travels have taken on your body, you can’t seem to rest very easily at all, especially when you need it the most. Whether it’s the vivid memories of past battles replaying in your dreams, the smothering climate of whatever campsite you’ve picked out that night, or the relentless wriggling of the tadpole in your head, there’s always something keeping you up.

“I’m surprised I haven’t caught you earlier, then,” you say. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you,” says Astarion. He smiles, and it seems he means it too. “Well, seeing as neither one of us will be getting to bed anytime soon, would you care to join me?”

You cross your arms. “I thought you would have preferred to be alone.”

“Misery loves company and all. I think I can make an exception for a fellow night owl,” he drawls.

You agree to walk with him then and quietly head in the opposite direction of both tents. You’re sure to bring your weapon with you in the off chance that something—or someone—attacks the two of you. A very small part of you still garners some suspicion for Astarion himself, especially considering that night in which he tried to feed from you while you slept. Perhaps that’s another factor in your insomnia; although you let Astarion drink his fill that night, you can’t be entirely sure he won’t try it again. That he won’t succeed in creeping up on you and draining you completely.

You shiver at the thought, but pass it off as a cold chill from the wind. As the two of you slowly move from the campsite, your surroundings become even quieter. The chirping insects from before are silent now, and the nearby stream is barely a whisper. You can hardly hear either of your footsteps. It’s at once peaceful and unsettling.

After a few short minutes, you’re the first to break the silence. “What do you usually do when you’re out here?”

Astarion thinks for a moment, and hums. “Hmm. Aside from hunting, I suppose I just sit with my thoughts. There isn’t much else to do, is there?”

You nod, but somehow you don’t think being left with one’s own thoughts is particularly relaxing for anyone in your party. You can’t imagine it’s any good for Astarion, especially.

“And what do you think about?”

“So much,” he says. “Plans, mostly. Where our next destination is, where I’ll find my next meal, what I’ll do when we reach Baldur’s Gate, how to get rid of this wretched parasite…”

“Do you ever think about your past?”

Astarion’s gaze is a bit distant until you ask that. He slows his pace and turns to you, looking unusually serious. “I prefer not to.”

He leaves it at that, so you decide not to push further. You only know a little about Astarion’s life before the tadpole entered his mind. You know he’s the spawn of an even more powerful vampire, a master to whom he was a slave for nearly 200 years, and you know he’s lived in the shadows up until now. It isn’t lost on you that this entire adventure is his first taste of freedom in centuries. You understand why he would rather focus on the future. Still, your nagging curiosity makes you desperate for more information about him.

“What about you, my dear?” He returns to his more amused attitude. “What do you do in that tent of yours to pass the time until the morning comes? Don’t tell me if it’s anything naughty… Actually, do.”

You shake your head and suppress a smile as he actually almost earns a laugh from you. “Nothing like that. I normally just try to distract myself until I can hopefully fall back asleep. Read something, sort my wares, hum a tune. Anything to relax.”

“I take it that hasn’t been working for you?”

“No. Not one bit. I’m actually kind of worried it might start affecting my performance from now on. Unlike some of the elves in this team, I actually need quite a lot of rest.”

“A true shame,” he tuts. “Although it is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, I don’t need to sleep for very long. On the other, I can’t sleep for very long. Sometimes I do wish I could simply let the whole day pass while I doze off. That would be much easier than just waiting it out.”

You hadn’t considered this. While the rest of your traveling companions are able to sleep through the night, Astarion has no choice but to wait for everyone to wake up around sunrise. All he can do is hope to get a few hours of rest before sitting through the unnerving silence of the night, the only unique sounds being the faint snores and mumbles that float from the other tents. You and he are alike in this struggle, but you at least are lucky enough to have a few nights when your exhaustion is bad enough to force you to bed.

“Well, taking a stroll like this is a good idea,” you finally say. “Thank you for inviting me along.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of Astarion’s lips. “Thank you for joining me. I will admit, it’s easier to pass the time with a… friend… by my side.”

Your heart swells at that word: “friend.” It’s a welcome upgrade from whatever you two might have been considered before.

A few minutes pass with the both of you chatting politely. As you walk, you make note of your surroundings to ensure that you don’t stray too far from camp or encounter any traps. This occupies your mind for a while, but Astarion seems to be running out of topics to discuss. Not wanting him to abandon your little trip just yet, you try to think of something to entertain him. Looking out at the forest and the sky in front of you, you notice that the moon has begun its descent into the trees, meaning morning is almost upon you two. This gives you an idea.

You stop and pivot to face Astarion. He stops too, surprised at your sudden pause.

“What is it?” He asks.

"Would you like to watch the sunrise with me?”

He’s taken aback only momentarily before he adopts his familiar flirtatious demeanor. “Trying to turn this into a romantic tryst, are you? If you want something more, you’ll have to be a little more direct than that.”

You shake your head. “No, I don’t mean anything by it. I want to know if you’ll sit and watch the sun come up with me. That’s all. It should be rising soon enough. It’s almost morning.”

He seems puzzled, his brows tightening and eyes scanning your face for any indication that you may be holding something back. When he doesn’t find anything, he settles back into an easy expression. “I seem to have misjudged. My apologies… Yes, I wouldn’t mind sitting with you.”

“Great.” You smile and begin to walk again. “I heard some water earlier, so I think there may be a stream near here. Maybe it’ll make for a nice spot.”

Astarion follows as you lead him closer to the sound of running water, and the two of you shortly come upon the stream. It’s a small, shallow brook that separates the woods from which you emerge and another expanse of trees on the other side. Right along the edge of the water is a line of smooth rocks big enough to sit on. It’s the perfect place to set up, you think.

The two of you find purchase on the edge of the rocks, feet just barely dangling off the side, hovering above the calmly flowing water. The rocks aren’t terribly big, so the two of you sit side-by-side, your knees close enough to touch. Across the brook, the trees begin to thin out, leaving a clear view of the horizon. You estimate that the sun will start its ascent in the next few minutes, but for now, the scene in front of you remains thinly bathed in moonlight.

In the quiet of the dawn, the moon casts its silvery glow on the world beneath it. Every blade of grass, every dewy flower, every mossy stone radiates with a hazy blue hue. The stream beneath you reflects this onto both of your faces, and you give a sideways glance to your companion next to you. You watch as the light dances across his cheeks, admiring how it shines in his curls, how it glistens in his deep red eyes, and how it collects in the space just above his lips. You inhale and the earthy scent of the forest mixes with the smell of Astarion’s perfume in your nose. As you do so, you realize now just how close in proximity you are to him. You’re close enough to trace his silhouette from the slope of his nose to his slender neck with your fingers if you so choose. You glimpse at the puncture marks just below his jaw and remember once more the night you let him drink from you. You remember the moment you awoke in terror before you realized who was crouched above you. You remember the uncertainty you felt as you gave him permission to continue, not sure whether it was a wise decision or not. You remember the sharp sting of his teeth entering your skin and the almost exhilarating dizziness that followed as he coaxed your blood out with his tongue. The rest of that moment is a blur to you, but you can still distinctly recall how he cradled your head with one hand, the other gently ghosting down your spine. For almost a full day after that night, the smell of bergamot and rosemary lingered on your neck.

“You do know staring is rude, don’t you, darling?” Astarion says. “Not that I particularly mind.” He leans back on his arms and turns to face you. “Not when it’s you.”

Your cheeks flush in spite of the cool temperature. You wonder when it was you became so vulnerable to Astarion’s flirting. Even though you have, you try not to entertain it. After all, you suspect his charming behavior is at least partly a ruse.

“Sorry,” you mutter and look back at the horizon. “It’s very pretty out. It’ll be even prettier in just a few more minutes, too. We’re in the perfect spot to watch the sun come up.”

“Is that so?” Astarion tilts his head as he continues to behold you. “You know, I’ve never watched the sunrise like this.”

You twist to look at him again, utterly shocked. “Seriously? Not once?”

He shakes his head.

“How come?”

He sighs. “I’m sure I must have before… everything. But I can’t seem to remember anything from back then. I lost most of my memories when I was brought back, save for a few of the important details. I suppose sunrises weren’t important enough to stick.” He frowns and stares out at a canopy of trees in the distance. “Then, as you know, it would have been incredibly stupid for me to be out in the light with this condition of mine. So, I never tried. I didn’t have very many opportunities to do so, in any case.”

Your brow furrows, but you don’t say anything. Instead, you let Astarion continue at his own pace.

“...I spent decades in my master’s lair, a- a dungeon, really. I was trapped in the darkness. The only time I was allowed out was when he needed fresh, new bodies, and even then it was always under the cover of night. For the longest time, that was all that I knew. In a way, it’s what I’m still used to…”

Suddenly his sleeplessness makes all the more sense to you.

“I know I’m free from that now, what with the tadpole and all, but…” He trails off. You understand.

After several beats of silence, you clear your throat.

“Once, when I was a child, I went playing in the woods with some of the other children in the village. There were maybe six of us in total? I don’t exactly remember. But we marched all the way from the market to the forest pretending we were a band of heroes. I was at the back of the line, right behind this boy that I really liked. I put myself there on purpose so that I could smile and blush as much as I wanted without him seeing me.”

“How cute,” Astarion comments with a quirked eyebrow.

“Yeah. I mean, I thought I was being clever, but it was pretty silly, wasn’t it? Anyways, when we entered the woods, we decided to split off into teams to see who could find the most ‘treasure.’ We just plucked up sticks, flowers, beetles, pinecones, that kind of stuff. I was paired with the boy I liked, and I was so giddy about it. I wanted to show him just how cool I was, so I climbed up every tree and jumped off every rock. Just hearing him laugh and clap for me was enough for me to keep going. So, I did. Before we knew it, we realized we had strayed too far from the rest of the group. We tried to call out to them but heard nothing in return. We were lost.”

You pause your story to get a brief look at Astarion. You half-expect him to be bored by this point, but you’re surprised to see that he’s giving you his full attention. He waves his hand, signaling for you to continue.

“We started playing late into the evening, so by the time we realized that we had no clue where we were, the sun had already begun to set. I remember cursing myself for wishing I could have some alone time with this boy because that wasn’t at all what I had had in mind. But, alas, that was the situation I was stuck in. When it reached midnight and we still hadn’t made our way back to the village, I started panicking. You should know that I used to be deathly afraid of the forest at night. I was terrified of what kind of creatures could be hiding, waiting to snatch me up and eat me alive.”

“Hmm, like vampires?” Astarion teases.

You smirk. “Precisely. You’ll remember, though, that I was stuck with the boy I liked. So, there was no way I could show that I was scared. I couldn’t display any sign of weakness or else he might not think I was as cool as I let off. Knowing this, I put on a brave face and silently begged the gods for some protection before I assembled a makeshift camp for the two of us. It was, admittedly, very shitty, but it did its job of giving us some shelter for the night. I told him he could sleep and that I would keep watch, and so I did. I didn’t sleep very much back then, either, now that I think about it. I guess not a lot has changed about me… But I digress. I stayed up the whole night, sitting outside our little fort, listening to him snore and talk in his sleep. I don’t think I could have left his side if I wanted to, considering how petrified I was. But I powered through the fear, for his sake. I was so young, but I cared about this boy so much that I felt I owed it to him to make sure he was safe.”

“You were quite the hero, even back then,” Astarion says gently. “Is this little story your way of telling me to be more selfless?”

“Not at all. I’m getting to the point, I promise. I sat there for hours as I waited for it to become day again. Eventually, I was able to focus on the more beautiful parts of the night: the moon, the stars, the lightning bugs, the sweet whisper of the wind through the leaves. The more I searched for the good in my situation, the less scared I became, until I was no longer scared at all. By the time dawn rolled around, I was at peace, actually. I was so proud of myself for making it through the night, I immediately woke the boy up to share the moment with him. Then, we sat together, kind of like this,” You gesture to your and Astarion’s seating position, “and just watched the sunrise in perfect silence. I had never watched the sunrise before. It was so nice, getting to quietly enjoy such a wonderful view with someone I loved.”

As you finish your story, you face Astarion once more. His gaze is soft as he listens to you speak, and the tender curl of his lips betrays a sincere gratitude for having shared this with him.

“Did anything ever happen between you and that boy?” He asks.

“Sadly, no. He eventually fell for some other girl in town. Last I heard, they had three kids together.”

“Hmm.” Astarion angles his chin away from you. “Well, that’s his loss.”

You look away, too, and smile to yourself.

Suddenly, the sky begins to transform before your eyes. The first gleams of sunlight begin to caress the horizon as the moon takes its final bow behind you. The forest, still coated with all the glimmering remnants of morning dew, stirs from its slumber under the streams of the emerging sun. As the sun slowly rises, its warm embrace spreads like honey between the trees, flooding the forest floor with rays of pink and amber. Shafts of light pierce through the lush foliage, creating scintillating patterns on the surface of the water that seem to dance at the promise of a new day. Finally, when the sun peers at you from above the treetops, it’s as if the sky erupts. A burst of brilliance envelopes the world below it in its welcoming embrace, casting everything in a blazing golden light.

You begin to say something to Astarion but stop when you see his face. He looks positively radiant. His face glows in the daylight, appearing even more magnificent than he did in the moon’s silver beams. His face and his hair are colored by the sun, making him look more alive than he ever has before. Every detail from the strands in his eyebrows to the smallest of moles is illuminated before you. You watch as his eyes glisten before softly fluttering closed. He breathes deeply, his chest slowly rising and falling, and he basks in the sunlight. He relaxes completely, letting the sun’s rays melt away any and all tension he may have been holding on to.

You want nothing more than to cup his face in your hands, then, and feel the newly imbued warmth of his skin as you press your lips to his. Instead, however, you carefully place your hand on top of his. His eyes blink open and he turns to look at you once more. You hesitate for a moment, ready to move away, but he doesn’t reject you. His eyes crinkle with appreciation and he laces your fingers together before gently stroking his thumb against the side of your hand. His skin is still a bit cold, but thanks to you, it quickly warms up.

The two of you sit there in tranquility, taking in all of the sights, sounds, and feelings of the early morning. Time seems to slow, then, as if the universe itself also wishes to savor this serene moment for just a little while longer.

Soon, you hear the distant sound of casual conversation as the others awaken for yet another day of arduous traveling. You sigh, knowing that the two of you will have to return to camp shortly and leave all of this behind. You don’t want to let go just yet.

“We should probably get back,” Astarion says first. “I wouldn’t want the others to think that I killed you and scurried off or something like that.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be very good for morale,” you joke. After a moment, you reluctantly untwine your fingers and push yourself up off the rocks. You extend a hand to Astarion to help him up, which he graciously accepts.

Neither of you moves at first until Astarion takes a step toward you. Standing so close to you, you wonder if he’s about to kiss you when he gingerly takes hold of your hands. He gives you that sincere smile again.

“Thank you again for this. It was… nice.” You almost can’t believe how vulnerable he seems right now, eyes staring into yours with no hint of false pretenses. “I’d like to do this again with you, if you’ll join me.”

“I would love to.”

“Wonderful,” he says. He lets go of you. “Shall we then?”

The two of you take your time walking back to the campsite, talking idly about what the next few days have in store. When you arrive, Karlach is the first to notice you.

“There you two are! We were beginning to worry.” She looks between you both and crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes mischievously. “Anything we should know about your disappearance?”

You chuckle. “Nothing that would excite you, Karlach.”

You walk past her and approach your tent. The rest of your team is already getting to work cleaning their weapons, armor, and other equipment, preparing to hunt, or strategizing together. Before you duck inside to retrieve your clothes for washing, you turn back and lock eyes with Astarion. He’s entered a conversation between Shadowheart and Gale, but he isn’t all that engaged. He shoots you a knowing look and another small smile which you return in kind.

As you wash your clothes in the river just south of the camp, you think fondly of the promise you’ve now made with Astarion and the many sunrises to come. Suddenly, insomnia doesn’t seem so bad.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion baldur's gate #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #i want to give astarion so much love pls

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abiiors · 4 months

Text

cherry // ross macdonald x reader

valentine's week - day 1: secret admirer

a/n: before you say anything, yes there will be a part 2 that's literally just a nasty fuck fest. i just wanted to get the plot bits out of the way and it got way too long as you can see. cw: age gap (10-12 years), highkey ooc, incredibly self-indulgent btw, ummm kinda dom/sub? hand kink, kinda corruption kink also wc: 7.8k

it’s been twenty minutes that they’re all sat in this room—concrete walls, a little like matty’s house honestly, simple furniture and minimalist decor. it feels anything but sparse though—there’s the mic guy and the cameraman and a few assistants. there’s the host, a cheery, fresh faced woman dressed to the nines. but ross can’t stop staring. which is a problem because he really should stop staring and focus on his actual job. except the girl in front of him is distraction personified.

next to him matty babbles on about the cultural and political significance of their latest album—all interesting, thoughtful stuff. ross, however, stares at the girl transcribing it all. and that’s what she is really, a girl. all softness and innocence, gently rolling the end of a pencil between her perfectly pink lips in a room full of lecherous men. unaware. aloof. or maybe he’s projecting. maybe he’s the lecherous one for staring at a girl who’s most definitely in her early twenties; at the pencil between her lips, at her cherry red dress.

every now and then she pulls the pencil away from her mouth and scribbles a few notes—something in neat, curving handwriting that is a little too far for him to read properly. every once in a while she also types something on her laptop, long, painted nails clacking so softly on the keyboard that the mic probably won’t pick up any of the sounds.

on her notepad, ross can see little doodled flowers—a bit janky and uneven petals, underneath it she’s doodled a box. thin, pencil lines tracing the same shape over and over again until the paper almost rips.

he tries not to be so obvious—tries not to stare at her face so much, at the curve of her cheek and the long lashes almost touching it, at the sharp line of her jaw, and the claw clip holding her hair up and out of her face. a few strands escape though, blowing gently against the air blasting from the aircon.

he tries to keep his attention back on the interview. and he tries to give himself little goals—he can only look at her if matty says a certain word. he can only look at her every time the host laughs—all trivial stuff that goes out the window every time she shifts in her seat and he catches the movement from the corner of his eye.

more than a few times, he catches her staring back—big eyes lingering right on his face with a distinctly interested expression. every time it happenes, he straightens a bit more and runs his hands through his neatly trimmed beard.

the girl follows the movement with her eyes and ross wonders what she makes of him.

“ross?” someone calls out for him. the host stares, expectant, and he stifles the urge to curse. searching his memory for the question that was just asked is useless; it’s not like he was listening to a word that was said in the last two minutes. but now everyone’s eyes are on him and the collar of his shirt feels tighter than it is. his cheeks grow warmer but ross laughs it off.

“yeah, agree with what matty said,” he replies quickly and clears his throat. he has no idea what matty said last but the host seems satisfied and moves on to the next question. the girl looks up at him again and quickly presses her lips together. still, he sees the slight quirk of them, almost like she’s trying to stifle a smile or a laugh.

this time he stares back just a bit longer, meets her eyes with intention and raises an eyebrow almost in challenge; just to see if she’d keep staring so blatantly. her eyes widen a fraction and the pencil stills on her lips. her teeth graze its end and almost dent her soft lip.

ross sees the movement of her iris, unsure where to look. she fidgets in her seat, shifting again and crossing her legs. then she averts her eyes entirely and goes back to scribbling on her notepad.

“your head’s in the fucking clouds,” george deadpans the moment they step outside on the balcony. there’s already a cigarette dangling between his fingers and smoke curls around his head.

ross groans. “haven’t slept properly.”

it’s not exactly a lie. he was up pretty late last night but ross lights a cigarette of his own if only to avoid looking at george. they stand there in comfortable silence for a bit, letting the smoke settle into their lungs and blowing it out. matty’s boisterous laugh floats outside and ross thinks back to the shitshow of an interview.

there’s a reason he hates doing these, there’s a reason matty always speaks on all of their behalf. but ross knows big publications want all four of them and it’s good to create hype and get the fans excited. and he knows it’s just necessary—

the balcony door open with a creek.

at first, ross doesn’t turn. it’s probably adam who’s bored of the conversation or matty who’s managed to escape it but out of the corner of his eye, he sees george turn around and straighten imperceptibly.

and so he follows suit.

the girl clears her throat. “uh… sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt you.” there’s a slight tremor in her voice and she looks up quickly from george to ross. she’s shorter than he’d realised before, only coming up to the base of his throat, fucking tiny compared to him and george and he pointedly ignores what it does to his brain to see her staring up at him, craning her neck just to meet his eyes.

“ross…mr macdonald. sir.” she comes to a stop in front of him, all wide-eyed and flustered and calling him sir for fucks sake. he can almost feel the laugh george is trying to hold in. this isn’t the first time a nervous fan’s approached them and he’s had far weirder interaction. still he plans to smack george later for making him lose his composure

“just ross,” he corrects on autopilot then gestures for her to continue. he expects the usual—a selfie or autograph on a vinyl. to his surprise she holds up a phone in front of him and ross almost gapes before reigning it in.

“your phone,” she says. “you left it on the set.”

quickly, he taps his back pocket and feels nothing.

up close, he can see the tiny smudge of mascara under her eyelashes and the precise shade of red on her lips. up close he can smell her perfume too—sweet and warm, something that definitely suits her.

the girls stares up at him expectantly, still holding out his phone.

“thanks,” he mumbles, voice almost gruff and takes his phone back. his hand brushes her for just a moment—the pad of his finger against the back of her hand. but ross swears he feels a little jolt. quickly, she drops her hand and looks at his chest.

“you’re welcome,” she says and this time her voice is a bit steadier than before. he’s about to ask her more. anything to make her talk more when george steps forward.

“thank you, darling,” he says and gives her a winning smile, “he would have made us all search for it later.”

the girl blushes furiously under all the attention, trying to maintain her bravado from before. ross stifles the urge to roll his eyes but takes the time to quickly look at her again. her hair’s down now, falling over her shoulders and hiding half her neck that was exposed to him before. he has the sudden and visceral urge to touch it, to run his fingers through it and tug on the strands until her chin tilts up to him. until she’s looking right at him.

what the actual fuck is wrong with him!

he steps back and takes a deep drag of his cigarette untilt he smoke burns, until his eyes water. the girl nods and stammers a goodbye. then she quickly scurries back inside.

george snorts and ross shoots him a death glare.

“head in the fucking clouds,” george singsongs under his breath and puts out the rest of his cigarette. then before ross has the chance to respond, he opens the balcony door and disappears inside.

ross stays back on the balcony and groans in his hands. then he lights another cigarette.

there’s a rot in his brain, gnawing at his neurons and eating through the organ until everything is replaced by a single image of her sucking on the end of her pencil absentmindedly. ross has been through this scenario a dozen times now. it was fine when he was busy, staving the thought away by replacing it with work related things.

a million things he’s got on his schedule…

but in the comfort of his home, his bedroom, he can’t stop picturing the hollow of her throat—delicate and unmarred skin in direct contrast to her dress, her voice calling him sir. god, she’d even looked at him like a fucking fawn—all wide-eyed and unsure. he would have fucking loved to trace his finger over her bottom lip right then, if only to steal a sweet sound of surprise right out of her.

he’s going straight to hell for this, straight to the fiery pits for doing what he’s about to do.

ross props himself up on the pillows, delaying the inevitable, or trying to at least. but the ache in him won’t subside, the throbbing between his legs, the dizziness as all his blood rushes south. the tent in his joggers taunting him as if he were a teenager in heat. he groans. the sound echoes around the room.

shame courses through him, already overshadowed by the heat that flows through his veins at the speed of lightning.

he needs to stop thinking about her, this girl who he has barely said two words to. maybe this is how he gets her out of his system. instinctively, his hand creeps towards his thighs.

he wastes no time dipping a hand in his pants, the other arm supports his head; nothing he hasn’t done a million times since he hit puberty. somehow this feels more electric than ever before.

ross palms himself, eyes fluttering close and muscles pulled taut. he’s aware of everything—from the stretch of his soft cotton t-shirt against his skin, to his head touching the bedframe. he needs to keep what little sanity he has left, trying to sort through all the depraved and deviant thoughts racing through his mind. what would she have done if she could read his thoughts, if she could see him like this—a mess at the mere thought of her? would she kneel down and crawl towards him, hunger clearly written all over her face, her big eyes hooded with lust.

ross groans loudly, letting out a string of curses, imagining that it’s her hand wrapped around him—small and inexperienced. stroking him up and down with unsurely; long, tentative, languid strokes making his head swim with deluded thoughts.

his cock is painfully hard. ross knows for a fact that he’s never wanted to fuck someone with this intensity before, never before has his brain reverted to its most basic instinct like this.

thoughts of taking her all over his house makes him fuck his fist faster and faster. gone are the gentle, sensual strokes from before, now his hips buck as he thrusts into his hand. his mind plays a slideshow of made up images—her bent over on his kitchen island, the marble biting into her hips as he pounds into her. he would speak the dirtiest and filthiest words to her as he watches her squirming with want; her pussy swollen and wet. his brain conjoures up the phantom feel of her silky tresses between his fingers, gripped tightly in his hands.

ross chokes out a gasp that turns into a broken moan.

this is wrong, this is so wrong and sinful and every other synonym there is for it yet his mind refuses to move on from her. rather, it conjures up more images—her jaw slack with pleasure, eyes rolled back in her head as she rides him at her own pace, figuring it out along the way. he would flip her at the last second, of course, looming over her like a dominating presence, wrenching another orgasm from her after she’s already cum on his tounge, his hand, his stomach. but she would let go for him again. she would do anything to be his good girl.

his pumps grow rougher and more erratic, gasps leaving his mouth, echoing around the room.

fuck. fuck. fuck.

ross wonders if she’s doing the exact same thing he is, hand buried between her thighs, his name spilling out from her perfect lips. he wonders if that would absolve him of his guilt, his shameless act. it’s the thought of her soft sounds that tips him over the edge until he cums so hard, his vision goes black.

his strokes slow down, back to slow and sensual as he watches his cum flow out of him; milky white ropes splashed on his stomach, on his thigh. his hand is a mess, the tissues he had tried to grab at the last second are nowhere near enough to contain all of it.

with her, ross wouldn’t need any of that. he would fill her up with his cum, fucking it into her, watching it drip out of her mixed with her own release, making a mess of her thighs that he could clean with his tongue.

fuck it. he was damned already. he might as well enjoy the ride.

somewhere in this city, she has no clue about all the dark and wretched things ross wants to do to her. and maybe he could get her out of his mind now, have her out of his system.

he could just as easily fuck someone tomorrow. and someone else the day after.

yes. yes, that’s what he should do. he should forget about the girl he’s known for less than twenty-four hours. that’s what he should do.

he settles on it too, making a mental note to text one of his old flings who might still be in the city. he feels very strongly about his resolve too. the interview is done, he’s likely never seeing her again.

until she shows up at the studio the morning after.

the day starts like any other. he drives up to the studio, one of the assistants tells him that the band will be shadowed for a magazine profile—some prolific publication that’s going to document their entire process ahead of the release. he doesn’t worry about it too much, talking is matty’s job. sometimes george chimes in. ross and adam speak only as a last resort.

besides he has his to-do list cut out for him.

last night—the entire day really—was a momentary distraction. now he’s back on track and focused. the track playing on his headphones is all he is thinking about. all he should be thinking about. until jordan taps him on the shoulder.

“need you for a few photos, mate. and the magazine people are here,” he turns around to leave, almost walks up to the door too then turns back to ross to mouth something. someone new! followed by a waggle of his eyebrows.

ross shakes his head, sets his things aside and walks out with jordan.

everyone’s out in the lobby, and ross hears matty laugh before he sees him. then he hears another familiar laugh and turns the corner to a familiar face. he knows tobias, who shakes his hand and gives him a friendly pat on the back. he’s met tobias before—the man is soft spoken and has a keen ear for good music, a quality ross admires and the thought of him documenting their recording process makes him happy.

tobias goes around making the rounds, hugging george and joking with the sound engineers. then he stops and turns to look at them.

“oh i almost forgot!” he claps his hands together, “need to introduce to a fresh face.”

behind tobias, ross catches a movement. and it’s then that everything around him fades away instantly.

there is no mistaking it. it’s her. it’s the girl, stepping out a bit unsurely from behind her boss and smiling tentatively at the room. he observes how she doesn’t look at him—no, rather she doesn’t look at anyone, cleverly staring at a spot just near them. but never direct eye contact and never more than a few seconds.

unlike yesterday, she’s in a simple jeans and a t-shirt—grey with a faded queen logo on it—but it fits her like a glove regardless. and when she introduces herself in a lilting voice, ross feels his thoughts from yesterday threaten to make a comeback.

this cannot be happening… behaving like a horny teenager once was enough. he doesn’t need her working here and being close to him constantly, doesn’t need her to constantly be a presence in his thoughts. thoughts that are already way too focussed on the way her eyes light up after seeing him. it’s a trick of the light and nothing else. he’s sure of it.

she introduces herself—her name, the fact that she’s here to transcribe and take notes and assist tobias. she tells them she really liked their last album and that it was her introduction to them. matty teases her about not being a fan and she blushes deeply, barely making eye contact with him.

ross, in a world of his own, burns with irrational jealousy. of course, it would be matty who makes her blush and gets her to open up. matty’s a flirt—charming and confident and knows how to get people to come out their shells, even the shy ones it seems. in contrast ross feels about as subtle as a boulder.

but she seems slightly relaxed after that conversation, even throwing him a look once (and only once) when he plucks on his bass string a bit too loud. ross doesn’t look at her for the rest of the day though, not a single time. no matter how tempting it is. even when she’s buried deep in her transcripts, murmuring to herself and listening to a recording of something adam said over and over again.

even when she crosses and uncrosses her legs, sucks on the end of her pencil again—clearly a habit, he’s come to realise. not when she stretches and the hem of her t-shirt rides up, exposing a sliver of smooth skin and the hints of cherry coloured lace. not even when she asks him where the espresso machine is.

the rest of the day ross spends hunched over his bass, glowering at the floor. and he doesn’t manage to focus even once.

day two he’s in the studio bright and early, gasping for some very strong coffee after tossing and turning the whole night (quite honestly, he’s gasping for something stronger but it’s 8 am and becoming an alcoholic now is not an option)

every time he closed his eyes, his brain would haunt him with images of soft skin and lips caught between teeth and sucking on the end of a pencil. every time his brain sent his body’s supply of blood to one organ and one organ alone and ross has had enough of it.

starting today he’s focused. he’s serious!

that is until he walks into the tiny kitchen and sees her on her toes, stretching and struggling to get a coffee mug down. a red one. the same one she’d used yesterday. with some amusement, he also notices that there are at least two mugs near the coffee machine—one plain black and one with a swirly pattern. but she hasn’t cast either of them a single glance.

she’s stubborn, someone who knows what she wants.

shamelessly, he staggers to a stop at the threshold, watching her lean against the counter and wiggle her fingertips in the air as if that would magically summon the mug. her calf muscles are pulled taut and visible in the dress she’s wearing. each time she stretches, he sees a flash of her thighs.

his fingers twitch by his sides, desperate to what what it would feel like to drag his knuckles against the inside of her thigh, trailing them up and up and up until he reaches her hip. how she would react if he pinched the skin between his fingers, if he marked it with his teeth.

“need some help?” in the early morning stillness of the kitchen, his voice comes out a bit too loud and a moment later she startles, whipping her head to look at him and hand coming up to her thudding chest.

“christ!” she gasps loudly, closing her eyes and opening them again to look at him properly. “ross–shit! sorry, you scared me a bit is all.”

he can’t help the way his eyes linger on her face—big, wide eyes and scarlet mouth parted open as she blows out a breath. when he starts walking towards her, she stays in her spot, practically transfixed on him as he comes closer. ross stops right in front of her, their bodies so close that another inch and he would be pressing into her, or rather pushing her body back against the kitchen counter. with some satisfaction, he also realises how he towers over her—almost a head taller and practically twice her size.

her breath catches in her throat when he reaches for the mug, pulling it out and setting it next to her. but he makes no move to step back, not until she finally looks up at him instead of just staring at his chest.

her throat moves, her pupils dilate. almost as if she’s doing it involuntarily, she quickly looks at his lips and back into his eyes.

for perhaps the hundredth time, he’s blown away by how beautiful she is, how fucking perfect. and everything he’s thought about her comes rushing back to him, all the times he’s pictured her mouth and her hand, her soft sounds and the feel of her hair between his fingers. his train of thought runs him over so thoroughly that ross actually staggers back a bit, averting his gaze and pointing at the mug.

he has to wait a beat and clear his throat before he can speak.

“there.”

“thank you…” she trails off unsurely, voice barely above a whisper. “did you want some too? i was just about to brew some fresh coffee.”

all he can do is nod. and when she moves around the room, getting other things out and making coffee, all he can do is watch.

by day ten, they talk a few more times, each time being interrupted by someone or the other—first it’s tobias, assigning her frankly trivial tasks (in ross’ opinion anyway) that she agrees to happily. then it’s matty coming over to shamelessly flirt with her which honestly makes ross want to deck him with his bass even though he knows it’s harmless.

but at least with matty she opens up slightly—telling him she’s been working for tobias for almost two years now and that it’s her first adult job. ross finds out that she’s not from london, instead she shares a flat with a friend.

day ten is also when she stays at the studio much later than anyone else, even when the skies outside darken and turn grey and flashes of lighting burst through every few minute. ross watches her anxiously stare out the window once it starts drizzling a little before she buries herself into work again, sorting through the video and audio footage of that day and making her notes that tobias seems to praise so much.

and so ross does the same, putting on his headphones and focusing of the actual music instead of the tip of her nails digging into her jaw, creating slight crescent moons. this time, he even manages to stay focused for ten whole minutes until he hears unsure footsteps walking towards him.

ross looks up at her, nervously playing with the ring on her index finger and takes off his headphones.

“you need anything?”

she shrugs, looking at him and then around him briefly. “yeah i just needed a little break from work and, uh… barely anyone else seems to be here?”

barely anyone. he’d rather there was no one here at all. and even then, the urge to seduce her into the little soundproof recording booth weighs strongly on him. it would be just him and her and the tiny cramped space and all her sounds would belong to him and only him—

“ross?” he jerks back to her looking expectantly at him before her eyes widen. “uness you’re busy, i don’t want to be a bother. sorry.”

he quickly dismisses her apology, motioning for the chair opposite him before ross smirks at her. “so you’d like to sit there and stare at me huh?”

he feels a little evil for enjoying the way she sputters, trying to come up with a retort or just plain denial or whatever else but he gets a little distracted by the faint red tinge to her face…

what else would make her blush like that? he can think of a few thing for sure.

“what? no! no, i just…” she scrunches her eyes shut, trying to gather her bearings. “i like watching you work.”

oh that’s certainly interesting.

“just me? not the others?”

“uh, well.” she leans back in her chair slightly, getting a bit more comfortable than before and catching her bottom lip betweem her teeth for a second. just long enough for ross to go entirely rigid.

“you’re really still when you work,” she continues, “it’s quite calming.”

oh he’s still alright. if only so he won’t give into the urge of constantly looking at her and following her every move with his eyes like some creep. he has to stay still if he needs to stop himself from going to up to her to try and flirt and like matty does, when he will inevitably end up making a fool out of himself.

but she’s entirely unaware of his inner conundrum. she’s all too absorbed in her analysis of the band.

“matty bounces and paces around and it makes me slightly nervous. i like watching george when he’s on the drums or the piano but lately he’s been doing more production work so he’s always on his laptop and well, that’s slightly… boring”

“boring?!” he laughs sharply. “i should tell george that.”

and then he finds it even more amusing when her eyes widen and she scrambles to backpeddle. there’s nothing to salvage it though. so she just sighs in defeat.

“you wouldn’t! would you?” she looks at him with those big, round eyes and juts out her bottom lip and fuck! she could ask him to sign over half his possessions right now and he would say yes.

“no,” ross laughs again, softer this time. “your secret’s safe with me.”

this time he sets the bass aside, all pretenses of work gone as he leans back on the sofa, one arm behind his head. “what about adam? why not him”

she contemplates her answer for a bit before speaking. “i don’t think he likes other people watching him, he looks a bit uncomfortable.”

“love, half our job hinges on other people watching us…”

“no, not like that!” she straightens, gesticulating wildly, “not when you’re playing songs you’ve already played hundreds of times. i’m talking about when he’s experimenting and writing new stuff. i don’t think he likes to be watched then.”

and once again ross is impressed by her astute observation skills. he knows how young she is—younger than him by a decade, yet here she is, reading his best friend of twenty years perfectly in just ten days.

so he leans forward, properly interested now and scans her face for a bit, trying to get a proper read of her, of what she might say next. “and is that what you like to do? watch people?”

“sometimes,” she shrugs, “when i find them really interesting.”

“so you find me really interesting.”

he expects her to blush and stutter again. it is a bold statement after all and yet again she surprises him. “yeah… yes, i do.”

this time she’s the one with her eyes roaming over his face, maybe a bit over his arms too (something he observes with an immense level of satisfaction) and the way they strain against his t-shirt.

“good,” he smiles. “now i know i’m not the only one dying to know more about you…”

he tries not to flirt with her too directly but they talk. he tries not to ask anything and everything all at once and freak her out before she’s entirely comfortable with him but with every question she relaxes even more, leans forward and places her chin in the palm of her hand while he’s explaining something inconsequential about his bass.

it’s only the muscle memory that keeps him going when the strap of her top slides away and a sliver of lace peaks out.

his fingers still on the strings and she frowns. “no, play! i like the way your fingers move.”

the words slip out before she even realises it. in fact, it doesn’t dawn on her until he freezes completely and she goes bright red!

“i– no, that’s– i didn’t–”

but ross laughs it away, if only so he won’t fucking dwell on it until his head feels like it’s going to explode.

“let’s go outside for a bit,” he offers and she accepts gratefully.

the air on the balcony is cool—the sort of breeze before a thunderstorm—and he’s itching for a cigarette. ross looks at her again as she stares out at the trees outside, swaying with the wind. one strong gust and she shivers. her skin erupts in goosebumps.

“you’re cold.”

she quickly shakes her head. “it’s fine, it’s so nice outside. i don’t mind that much.”

he wishes he was wearing some kind of a jacket that he could give her. the though of her in his clothes does something absolutely primal to him to the point where he has to physically stop himself from grabbing her by the waist and kissing her till she’s dizzy and moaning in his mouth. and she doesn’t help matters by moving a little closer to him, until they’re almost touching, until her arm is almost pressed up against his chest.

“you’re cold,” he says again, voice tinged with roughness but she clicks her tongue.

“‘s alright. you’re warm.”

“am i?” he chuckles deeply and takes a hold of her by her arm. “come here then. have a cigarette with me.”

it’s about as bold as he’s been with her. she whips her head up to look at him, and ross doesn’t miss the way her gaze dips to his mouth. just for a moment, maybe even half a second until she quickly looks away and at his chest.

“i don’t… i don’t smoke.”

“ever?”

that makes her giggle. “no ross. i don’t smoke. ever.”

he wants to say something but the words don’t come out easily. the palm of his hand feels electric just from touching her arm, just from being so close to her. and the breeze all around them makes it impossible to escape her sweet perfume.

“i’m not opposed to trying though,” she continues shyly and ross quirks an eyebrow.

“you could try with me…”

“i’d like that.” he studies her face for a moment, looks at her big eyes staring up at him with a mix of sincerity and interest.

“do you know what to do?”

she mulls it over for a moment, pinching her lips together until they’re in a kissy pout. “sure, i’ve seen people do it. i’ve seen you do it.”

“have you now?”

“mmhmm, seems easy enough.”

so ross pulls out a fresh one from the pack and places it between her lips. his finger grazes her bottom lip, the touch electrifying, making him linger there until her gaze dips to his mouth again and a light flush covers her face. she shivers again and steps even closer to him than before.

“should i light it then?”

she nods tentatively, and ross flicks the lighter on. the flame wavers, almost goes out until he shields it with his palm and brings it up to her mouth. the fire casts a warm glow on her face, in her eyes. and she’s somehow even more breathtaking than he’s ever imagined.

once the cigarette lights, she takes an unsure inhale and breaks out into a cough until there are tears brimming on her lashline and she’s pushing ross away lightly for laughing at her.

“you’re helpless,” he teases. “here. let me.”

his hands graze her lips once again as he takes the cigarette from between her lips. it’s smudged with her lipstick, something sheer and pink. then he places it in his mouth, lazily taking a drag.

“watch.” she obeys instantly, pupils dialating when her eyes linger on his mouth until her lips part and she swallows visibly. he takes the moment to blow the smoke out, bending down so he can blow it in her parted mouth without startling her too much. her eyes widen and she sucks in sharply but this time she doesn’t cough. instead, she bunches her lips together and tries to blow out some of the smoke she inhaled. it comes out in broken wisps and disappears on the wind.

“there we go, darling,” he speaks roughly and watches her blush all the way to the tip of her ears. “should we try that again?”

she nods. he takes another drag. this time, he grips her chin between his fingers, tilting it up until her mouth is so close to his and he can practically feel her breath on his skin. her pupils are so blown out, her eyes almost look black. then he lightly brushes her lips to his and blows the smoke out again.

ross stays where he is. he even pulls her closer until she’s pressed against him and her eyes flutter shut. her breath hitches, her hands move up to his biceps, gripping onto him until she exhales again and smoke caresses his mouth before dissipating once more.

“a-again,” she whimpers but he’s already taking the cigarette out of his mouth and putting it out on the railing.

“yeah?” he challenges just to see if she’d move away but her hands move up from his biceps, fingers traliing up his arms until they’re at the nape of his neck, nails softly trailing down his skin. and when she shivers again, it’s definitely not because of the cold.

“yeah,” she nods and presses her lips onto his.

his heart skips at how unsure it feel, how she has to stand on the very tips of her toes and hold onto his just so she won’t lose her balance. he doesn’t give her a lot of time to overthink it though. as soon as he’s over the initial shock, he wraps and arms around her until she’s fully pressed against him, effectively trapped between him and the railing. the light drizzle of rain starts again. ross grabs her face in his hands, keeping her still so her can kiss her properly—the kind that leaves her gasping when he grazes her bottom lip with his teeth, the kind that has her leaning against him entirely for balance when her knees almost buck under her. the kind that makes her moan involuntarily but ross doesn’t let her pull away in embarrassment. instead, he pulls her up until her legs are wrapped around his middle, her thighs pressed against his waist and his hands under her ass. and then he carries her back inside.

just like he predicted, he fills up the tiny little space of the recording booth. the mic stand clatters and she moves it aside with a ferocity that’s unlike anything he’s seen from her before, it’s a nice surprise, to see just a glimpse into her feral side.

ross groans into the kiss and slides his hand under her ass. his fingers snake up her neck, gripping her jaw in a grip that’s almost too tight. it’s tempting to mark her up, to leave behind bitemarks and fingerprints everywhere for people to see. she responds in kind and bites his bottom lip just hard enough to make him hiss.

“someone’s going to hear us”

“it’s a soundproof booth darling, no one’s going to know a thing.”

his hand that’s been cupping her jaw slowly moves to her throat and she lets out a whine so desperate and needy that all the blood rushes straight to his cock. she’s practically begging for more at this point and he hasn’t even properly touched her yet.

he thinks back to all the times he’s thought of her like this, so malleable in his hands—thought of the feel of her hair between his fingers that damned bottom lip that’s driven him so crazy over the last few days. he can’t resist nipping at it and the sting makes her breath catch.

“i’ve nev-i’ve never done this.”

his heart thuds in his chest and for a second he worries she’s entirely inexperienced. not that he’d have a problem being her first… but he’d be damned if he let her first time be in a fucking recording booth.

“done what?”

“hooked up.” she clarifies almost through a gritted tone, almost like she’s trying not to be ashamed of it. “outside of relationships i mean.”

“no? do you want to stop?”

she takes a beat to think then shakes her head. “no, i-i just really want you.”

ross hums in approval. it does stroke his ego immensely if he’s being honest and he can’t help but see how far he can push her buttons. “do you now? what do you want about me?”

just like she had outside, she blushes furiously, to the point where she has to stare right at his chest and take a moment to compose herself. her hands never let go of his chest though. and it’s safe to assume she can feel his racing heartbeat just like he can hear hers.

“your hands are… i like your hands.”

“do you think about my hands a lot?”

“i don’t–i d—” her eyes go round again, wide as saucers, almost like it’s impossible for her to lie.

“no lying, sweetheart.” he tsks, and then bends down just until his mouth caresses her earlobe. “bad girls don’t get what they want.”

she makes a stragled noise, somewhere between a moan and a sound of protest but ross cocks his eyebrow and that shuts her up effective. a beat later, she tries again.

“fine. yes. i think about your hands a lot. all the time…”

“and what are my hands doing when you think about them?”

he enjoys it very much when she stutters, trying and failing to meet his eyes, to say the dirty words in her head out loud. that alone is enough for his painfully hard cock to throb again.

“go on,” he breathes over her skin and lets his hands trail up and down her body, “show me what my hands do.”

she places her palm on the back of his hand, so much smaller in comparison, and moves it down her body. he lets his fingers trail, lets the callouses pads of his fingers brush over every inch of skin he can until she stops just at the waistline of her jeans and looks up at him again.

“i want you t-to…to touch me. use your fingers on me.”

“that what you think about hmm?” slowly, the slowest he possibly can without jumping out of his own skin, he undoes the button of her jeans. then he pulls down the zipper, all the while letting his knuckles drag across her skin. she shivers at the smallest of touches, so responsive and perfect.

“words, darling,” he taunts again. “i’ll stop touching you if you stop telling me what you want.”

“ross,” she whines, and tries to grind against his hand, tries to push it deeper in her pants but he quickly gathers her wrists together and tuts at how little strength he needs, how easily he can hold both her wrists together with just one hand while using the other to feel her up through her underwear.

it’s soaked and he can clearly feel her clenching and unclenching, desperately trying to move her hips and grind shamelessly against his hand but he won’t give her what she wants until she forces the filthy words out.

“please!”

“you’re soaked, sweetheart. i can give you what you want but only if you ask for it.”

her eyebrows knit together and she almost looks… angry, about as feral and threatening as a little bunny. “fine…” she huffs, “i want–i want you to fuck me. with your fingers.”

the crass words sound filthier from her mouth, like she shouldn’t be saying things like these to lecherous old men in dark corners on even darker nights. “see?” he grins at her, all sharp teeth ready to almost rip into her, “was that so hard?”

when they kiss again, ross pushes his tongue inside her mouth until all he can taste is her, until all her can smell is her. his fingers move faster against her clothed pussy, making the fabric soak more than it was before and her legs spread wider, her hips move faster until she’s soaking his hand and practically rutting against it.

she’s shaking, clenching around nothing and looking at him with tears in her eyes—so frustrated now, constantly whining for him to push his fingers inside her. slowly, ross pushes the underwear aside and circles her entrance with his middle finger. before she has the chance to whine again, he plunges the fingers inside and swallows her cry with another kiss.

she clenches around his finger desperately, slickening his hand every time he pushes into her, more so when he adds another finger and thrusts into her faster. as a reward he lets go of her wrists and she immediately latches onto him, pushes her hands inside his shirt and lets them greedily roam all over his body. she traces his chest and down his stomach, she lets her nails trail up his back, scratching and digging into his flesh every time he thrusts his fingers deep inside her.

her breathing quickens and she starts pressing kisses to his jaw, tracing the golden chain around his neck with her tongue. every so often she tries to nip at his skin, to leave some of her own marks behind. once or twice he lets her… but it’s more fun to hear her gasp and mewl and cry out his name.

“good girl,” he coos at her, “taking it so well, sweetheart.”

“feel so good,” she whispers and lets her head fall back. under his hand, her thigh spasms lightly and his pulse pounds all over his body—his chest and throat and stomach and fuck even his cock that so hard and leaking with precum now.

he needs her so bad, bad enough that he entertains the idea of pulling his fingers out and bending her over right there.

but this might be his one and only time with her and he needs to make it memorable.

he needs her to feel him between her legs for days and taste him on her tongue for weeks.

he needs to bottle up her gasps and whimpers and the feel of her cunt around his fingers and keep it hidden away forever.

so he needs to make her cum over and over again until she can’t remember any other name but his.

and he’s not about to do all that here of all places.

“‘m so close,” she moans out, rutting her hips faster now, almost trying to match his thrusts and ross increases his pace, presses his thumb against her clit harder than before. “kiss me.”

instantly, he obeys, getting lost into the kiss and the way it sends little currents through his blood. she’s no better either, exploring the inside of his mouth with her tongue and riding her fingers until he can practically feel her dripping down his hands and wrist. until she lets out a string of curses and her eyes roll back. she lets out a broken moan, louder than all the ones before and he feels her squeeze around his fingers harder then before.

then he feels her release, gushing onto his hand until he has to hold her up so her legs won’t give out on her.

ross doesn’t stop though, he pumps his fingers in and out of her, each time earning himself another cry or hiss or groan until the tremor in her body subsides to a slight shiver and she presses her face into his chest, sweaty and barely coherent.

“that was–” she tries and breaks off. “you were–”

“have i left you speechless, sweetheart?” he teases pointedly. “look at me.”

when she manages to open her eyes, ross pulls his fingers out of her and brings them to her mouth.

“suck,” he orders. to his surprise she obeys without hesitation. her mouth closes over his fingers, taking them all the way in until her lips are around the base of his fingers. then she swirls her tongue around them and licks them clean. every inch, every crevice.

she lets them go with a slight pop and ross almost gets on his knees right there.

“you are not what i imagined,” he whispers, not trusting his voice at all.

“am i better?”

he only nods in response and kisses her deeply, tasting her on his tongue, tasting the tang of her release mixed with her saliva.

“let me take you home,” he offers. “i want to fuck you. but not here. i want to fuck you properly.”

“like a gentleman,” she giggles.

he worries she might say no. but she only pulls away to button her jeans properly.

“let’s go then,” she smiles mischievously and hooks a finger through his chain, eyeing it with intent. “i have thought of loads of other things apart from your hands.”

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855@beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy@sierraeslaprincesa@harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet@thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername@celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @humptyhoran @indierockgirrl @hanbiior @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @rossgirly @if-my-heart-bleeds @little-lovely-darling @abriefnirvana @renitypoem @sinarainbows @lady-may-targaryen @love4agesss @angrylittlebaldman @oneluckygirl

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#this is the longest. the others are not going to be this long #well it's already past midnight when i'm posting this so i'm already a day late but shh you didn't see that #valentine75 #valentine's week #ross macdonald #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald smut #minors dni #the 1975 fanfic

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allamericansbitch · 2 months

Text

since y'all seemed to want this.... here's the live notes i took while listening to each song for the first time (bold are thoughts i had during later listens)

fortnight:

‘i was a functioning alcohol till nobody noticed my new aesthetic’ what the fuck does that even mean…

love the fact she gave post the female collab treatment. don’t wanna hear what he has to say.

they’re voices sound actually good together?

some pockets of the melody are catchy

okay i don’t hate this

ttpd:

her red flags are on fire in this song lol

this seems very half-cooked

also jacks weird mixing continues to plague us all

CHARLIE PUTH???? WHAT THE FUCK WHY HE HERE

tattooed golden retriever??? ……no way

my boy breaks all his favorite toys:

i blinked and it’s half over

this also is like… half cooked and didn’t need to be released tbh

i love the way she sings the second verse tho

down and:

the production does not match the vibe

did tpain produce this

i’m… kinda bored lol

like i have nothing to say this also didn’t need to be released tbh

this grew on me a lot actually

so long london

the production is so futuristic?

oh im obsessed with how she sounds on this one

her talk-singing in the verses is great

honest lyrics without any clunky unnecessary metaphors! a win!!

the fast-paced verses with th slow chorus is really really cool

a favorite so far

daddy i love him

i can barely hear her? the bad mixing continues

‘growing up precociously sometimes means not growing up at all’ oh yeah WE KNOW

is this…… is this about her dating matty and loving how people hate him… no fucking way she’s this stupid

SHE IS BEING THIS STUPID

‘it’s white noise’ yeah yeah that’s exactly how id describe him

.... anyway y'all remember when fans really believed the little mermaid theory and this song was supposed to be about how 'joe stole her voice' lmaooo

we will pretend this one doesn't exist!

fresh out the slammer

are we getting another ‘i didn’t cheat technically’ song lol

what is this weird tempo change….

okay kinda catchy

it’s sounds exactly like you are in love at the end….. jack is really out of tricks

florida

‘my friends all smell like weed or little babies’ what the fuck is she even talking about anymore

i’m sorry but i’m laughing at the phrase ‘fuck me up florida’

again the production sounds so detached from the vocals

i honestly still have no idea how i feel about this one

guilt as sin

an real instrument?? wow crazy

okay she’s kinda cute? catchy and fun, love the melody

i love when she goes up at the end of the vocal

okay…. i don’t mind this one she’s catchy, a little too long and drawn out but cute

who’s afraid of little old me?

what is this production? it’s way too soft to be as threatening as they’re trying for

why did jack push her vocals back so far when she’s supposed to scream…. that’s ruins the whole thing…. she’s supposed to be screaming and threatening….. not quiet and far away…. hello

this song is trying very hard to be threatening but it’s not... vigilante shit 2.0

‘you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum they raised me’…………… upper middle-class pennsylvania?

‘i’m drunk on my own tears isn’t that what they all say, that’ll sue you if you step on my lawn’ okay bar?

the bridge was good but that’s about it.

i can fix him

…………… not another matty song oh god

‘i can handle a dangerous man’…… im too stunned to speak this is so embarrassing

wow taylor really is that girl who like ‘women supporting women’ and then dates/defends a racist bf…. a walking example of white feminism

intersectional feminism found dead.... twice....

loml

okay this is really nice?

I WAS ACTUALLY ENJOYING THE SONG WHY DID SHE RUIN IT BY SAYING ‘MR STEAL YOUR GIRL’ 💀

if we ignore that one line we're good this is good. im refusing to let that line ruin such a good song

i can do it with a broken heart

‘bitch smile’ why are there so many cringey lyrics on this album lol

what is this song omg why do i kind of like it

taylor please learn depressed isn’t a synonym for sad

they recycled the mastermind production

wait till taylor finds out most of the entire world is sad while they're doing their job and has to pretend they're not

smallest man who ever lived

oh i think i like this?

‘you said normal girls were boring’ GIRL AND YOU DIDNT IMMEDIATELY GET UP AND LEAVE??? EWWWW??? she's not beating the pick-me allegations

'i just wanna know if rusting my sparking summer was the goal' okay love that line

i like this a lot

the alchemy

no….. no way this is real

i cannot

THE SPORTS METAPHORS WE JOKED SHED DO THAT AND SHE ACTUALLY DID IT OH NO

touchdown ✅ teams ✅ benches ✅ winning streak ✅ the league ✅

she’s doing…… the worst thing ever this is so laughable

the corny lyrics are on overload

‘this time it’s heroine with an e’ didn’t she write folklore? i can’t remember

that literally was an snl parody of a taylor song

clara bow

love how the guitar sounds… bet money this is an aaron track

a stevie nicks reference!! a win!!!

i like this one a lot no cringey lyrics yet

nope never mind she name-dropped herself don’t like that

overall really liked it tho

the black dog

i think i like it?? this is kind of what i expected the album to be

okay for once the weird production choices kind of pay off

imgonnagetyouback

kinda catchy?

she loves a fancy car getting wrecked line

the pre-choruses are the best part

this would’ve been better without the jack of it all bc he loves a song that doesnt build to anything

this just comes down to personal preference: i don’t like her lighter vocals with jack’s heavy production (ie most of lover lol)

the albatross

a real instrument!!! production that matches taylor’s voice and is well mixed!!! aaron’s arrived!!

i think it’s solid, has good writing and she sounds great. that's about it.

chloe or sam or…

took me a solid minute to have any semblance of a fuck to know what was going on but okay

okay i love this one

wayyyy more emotive than like… most of the original album

a lot of the 2nd version (or whatever this is lol) are way more emotive, maybe because her voice isnt drenched in reverb so we can actually hear her voice emote better

how did it end

this sounds like an old school adele song?

i love this one too….

her being upset people wanna know what happened but then also feeding it while promoting the album oop

i love the story of this one it's so refreshing

so high school

THE PRODUCTION is so good ugh aaron never fails

the man here is a walking red flag girl and the lyrics are ~not it~ but the production is too pretty to hate it

fuck these lyrics are so bad lol

maybe if i disassociate hard enough i can ignore the lyrics and just listen to the production and vibe

give me a karaoke version of this song and we'd be so back

i hate it here

i mentioned disassociation and she made a whole song about it!!!! this one’s mine!!!!

‘without all the racists’ GIRL HUH

WHAT WAS THE REASON

also... girl don’t act like we don’t know you’re fine with that lololololol

if i had a dime for every time i was liking a song to then have it slapped away because of a bad, out-of-pocket lyric……

thank you aimee

this isn’t grabbing my attention

oh the bridge is interesting

it’s meh

i will never be thanking the people that bullied me thanks tho

i look in peoples windows

what do you mean aaron didn’t produce this??? it’s well-made and has instruments?

i love this one, again a really interesting and unique concept that's very refreshing to hear at this point when a lot of the songs feel repetitive

the prophecy

aaron guitar!!!!

she’s nice i like her

i've really grown to love how she sings this one, the melodies are cool.. however i feel like we've heard the same melody.. like on this exact album... where she upturns at the end of every line...

cassandra

this seems very…. familiar… idk i feel like we’ve covered this (i mean there are 31 songs we’ve already covered everything lol)

this is such an aaron song, that's a classic 'the national' piano

i like her voice in this one tho, sounds good

peter

oh love i love this

now this? THIS feels the most like a taylor swift song

once again she’s at her best with a simple instrument and emotive simple lyrics

the piano reminds me of champagne problems

the bolter

i like this! the chorus is so cute

oh i like that ending line a lot!

she’s cute, a little long and drawn out but cute

robin

i haven’t seen anyone talk about this one

welp…. i literally have no feelings toward this one but sounds pretty!

the manuscript

oh this is soooooooo powerful

i love this concept

her ending the album on another introspective album that sums everything up a la dear reader yep yep!!

if you actually read of this ily 💗

#tp #ttpd lb #kind of lol

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