#will graham being a dilf | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bit-dodgy-innit · 2 years

Text

Playground Appropriate

Part of my 500 Follower Celebration set in The Shape of Youniverse

The Prompt: Marc is the best dad ever with Nyla at the local playground

Requested by: a lovely nonnie!

Pairing: Marc x afab!reader, background Steven x afab!reader and Jake x afab!reader, Reader is married to the system

Spice-o-meter: 🌶🌶🌶, Explicit, Minors DNI!

Word Count: 2.5k

CW/TW: Bosses being terrible, Marc is a booty-ful DILF but reticent about another bb bc trauma, mention of lactation kink and pussy-drunkenness, dirty talk, sixty-nineing so both m! and f!receiving oral, P in V sex, a smidge of over-sensitivity and spanking, daddy kink

A/N: Is the gif shitty and low-quality with a tacky watermark? Yes, but guess what? I DON’T CARE! I made it myself because the video from whence it came and an idea from @lovetopanic that MAJORLY inspired me when writing this fill. To the beautiful little bambina who made this ovary-exploding moment happen, thank you for your service.

As much as you loved being back at your job, you hadn’t missed days like these. Your and Marc’s plans to take Nyla to the Discover Children’s Story Center were promptly and thoroughly ruined when your boss called early this morning, a Saturday, and demanded you report into the office for an emergency meeting. You were in charge of one of your company's largest accounts, which while it came with lucrative bonuses and more challenging, fulfilling work, it also meant dealing with your superiors’ neuroses.

Your husband patiently listened to your laments while you got ready to go into the office. You wanted nothing more than to tell them to shove it, but your family was swiftly outgrowing your current place and you needed every penny of everyone’s salaries – yours, Marc’s, Jake’s, and Steven’s – to afford more space in the overpriced and cutthroat London real estate market.

“We can go another time,” Marc tried to downplay the inconvenience as you finished primping in the living room mirror to look office-presentable and he fed Nyla breakfast.

“I know it’s not a big deal, it’s just–” you slipped on a pair of loafers and huffed, “--it’s the principle of it you know? Graham and Nigel are both middle-aged divorcees, they don’t have families they care about spending time with, so we all suffer. In-person too.”

“Which is why you have to hang in there and get promoted so you can change things,” your husband reminded you. He turned to Nyla, “We’ll find something to do just the two of us.”

“You’re right,” you conceded. “But can you blame me for wanting to spend every second I can with this chunky monkey?”

Rather than waiting for Marc’s reply, you peppered your daughter’s plump little feet and legs with kisses in her high chair. She squealed in delight at your affections, flailing her hands in delight and sending her banana slices flying.

“Thanks,” he harrumphed at the additional mess.

“Sorry,” you apologized with a kiss to his cheek before you pulled on your jacket and grabbed your bag.

Nyla proceeded to slam the tray of her high chair and shrieked even more when she saw her mom was leaving home without her. Marc knew he’d be dealing with an irate 16-month-old if he didn’t handle this right.

“Okay, come here little girl,” he freed his daughter from her seat and scooped her in his arms. “Let’s say goodbye to Mommy.”

They met you in the doorway and your baby’s sweet, cherubic face, currently with banana smeared across it, tugged at your heart strings. You wanted nothing more than to text your bosses to go fuck themselves, how dare they take you away from your baby any more than necessary, but you were tolerating these nightmare men ultimately for Nyla’s benefit. “Mommy will be back soon sweetie, be a good girl for Daddy.”

“Wave bye-bye Nyla,” Marc encouraged her, modeling the gesture himself. After a few moments of watching her father, Nyla mimicked his wave. It was the cutest thing you’d ever seen. “Bye-bye Mommy, we love you, bye-bye!”

“Bye Smushy, love you so much,” you waved back at her, swooped in for one last kiss on those chipmunk cheeks, then addressed your husband. “I’ll text you when I’m free, honey.”

“Sounds good, babe,” Marc murmured and pecked you on the lips.

Leaving the two of them felt akin to a death march as you exited your building for the Tube. No matter how big Nyla got, you always felt an ache when you left her. Even when she was in the more than capable hands of her doting dad, being apart from Nyla felt as if there was a piece of you missing. It was easier to cope with when you were sleep-deprived or your daughter was driving you crazy, but you and Marc’d had such a lovely morning with her.

***

It was a herculean effort for you to maintain a professional veneer during the meeting with Graham, Nigel, and a few fellow godforsaken colleagues. Thankfully, assuaging their concerns about the account didn't take more than an hour and a half. You just needed to send a few “urgent” emails and then you could return to the quaint, quiet weekend you’d been enjoying with your family.

You immediately fired off a text to Marc once you left the conference room.

From me: Leaving here in 10!

From Hubby: K, we’re at the park.

Marc was the “coldest” texter out of him and his alters. Steven loved his emojis, while Jake messages were always a mix of English and Spanish with an abundance of typos in both languages. He wasn’t much of an emoji user, though he did love the smirking devil one. It was usually fitting, after all. Boy loved to sext. You’d tried over the years to hammer into Marc’s brain that ending texts with a period meant that you were either angry or a psychopath, but it was a lost cause.

Today Marc redeemed his unintentionally icy text by sending a photo of Nyla on the swings at Dulwich. You were impressed that he’d not only managed to dress your daughter in an outfit that wouldn’t get her seized by the local safeguarding children board, she sported an actual hairstyle to boot. You detested the phrase, but Marc was blossoming into quite the “girl-dad”.

From me: PIGTAILS!

From Hubby: Steven helped with those.

From me: Well done, you two! See you soon xx

***

When you arrived at Dulwich playground, you spotted Marc and Nyla before they saw you. You took a moment to covertly observe them, marveling at how attentively the man who was initially afraid to hold his newborn was now playing with his daughter. He followed her every move, steadying her with gentle and firm hands when Nyla needed it, encouraging her the entire time.

Turned out you weren’t the only one admiring Marc with Nyla. You’d be the first to sing the praises of Marc’s butt, and with him bent over tending to his daughter as she toddled around, you couldn’t exactly blame the mums and nannies that were enjoying the view.

You approached them before it got creepy and announced yourself with the exclamation, “Is that my big, beautiful girl?!”

“MAMA!” Nyla launched herself at you and you swept her in your arms at once. You dotted kisses all over her face, and lifted her up above your head, earning a peal of ecstatic laughter. Then, just like that, she was squirming to be released.

Marc sidled up to you once Nyla’s feet were back on the ground to ask lowly, “Do I get a kiss?”

“Hmm, let me see.”

He got a kiss alright. One with tongue and that included your hand wandering into the back pocket of his jeans to give one of those luscious ass cheeks a squeeze. Were you marking your territory? Maybe.

“Now, that was not playground appropriate,” he panted when you broke apart.

You shrugged your shoulders and answered in a voice that was not one bit repentant, “Oops.”

“Mama!” Nyla banged on the thick plastic of one of the playground’s slides.

“Apparently the first fifty times we went down together weren’t sufficient,” Marc observed wryly.

“Of course not,” you laughed and passed him your bag to hold.

Twenty minutes with Nyla and all of your work frustration was forgotten. The three of you ended up spending the remainder of the afternoon at the park, stopping to pick up a pizza for dinner on the way home since neither you or Marc felt like cooking.

Later, your husband tucked Nyla in while you wrapped up a few outstanding emails on the couch. You met Marc just outside of her door and collectively tip-toed into your bedroom.

“That was impressively fast,” you remarked once it was safe to speak at full volume.

Marc emerged from the en-suite with his toothbrush in hand. “The playground tired her out thankfully.”

You sat up on your knees from your spot on the bed. “You can’t blame me for wanting another baby when you’re so good with her.”

You and your husband had begun to discuss Baby Number Two. While Steven and Jake were on board, Marc was the hold out. The last thing you wanted to do was pressure him since you suspected his reluctance was out of lingering fear and trauma from his past.

“Steven and Jake just want to knock you up so they can milk your tits again.” Marc earned a little shove from you for that statement, but he continued, “Also you said you wanted to be in a bigger place before we had another?”

You cursed Marc and his stupid memory when he disappeared back into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

He joined you on the bed, and you tucked your fingertips under his T-shirt to strip it off. “How about we compromise then, and you pound that big cock into me instead?”

Your husband groaned, both from your naughty suggestion and the touch of your hands flitting from his chest downwards. “Shit, I hope she stays asleep because I’ve wanted to fuck you raw since that move you pulled at the playground.”

“Hmmm, I can feel it,” you purred, wrapping your fingers around his growing erection. “Watching you take such good care of our little girl made me so wet.”

“Lemme see,” he grunted, momentarily removing your hand from his dick to knock you back among the pillows.

You spread your legs as soon as your back hit the mattress, and Marc wasted no time hiking up your nightgown to get a glimpse of your folds. A low, aroused rumble resonated from his chest at the sight, compelling him to trail kisses up the inside of your thigh.

“This little pussy is always so pretty and glistening for me,” he growled.

“Marc,” you sighed, your voice thin while he touched you. “Wanna suck your cock.”

Your husband didn’t have to be told twice. He manhandled you on top of him, leveling your eyeline with his throbbing dick while he lined up his mouth with your entrance, which was currently clenching in anticipation. You drew his length between your lips and swirled your tongue around its head, tasting the salty pre-cum that had begun to leak from it. Marc groaned at the stimulation and sank his face into your pussy in turn.

Together you made the most divine feedback loop of pleasure, your slurping around Marc’s member, spurring him to lap at your folds all that more enthusiastically. It was nearly impossible to focus enough to apply any technique to sucking your husband’s dick when he was tongue-fucking your hole and drinking down your ample nectar like a man starved. His deep moans reverberated against the wet, sensitive skin between your thighs, bringing you even closer to the orgasm steadily building within you.

You choked on your husband’s erection when he landed a slap on your ass, then moaned around him when the large pad of a calloused finger found your clit. The extra stimulation, in addition to Marc’s tongue swirling inside of you, is what you sent over the edge. Your eyes crossed, dick still in mouth, as your peak swept your body from head to toe.

The force of your climax meant you needed to pull off his manhood to get sufficient oxygen into your lungs. Just when you’d recovered enough to resume your worship, Marc tapped your thigh to stop you. Though your husband was usually all too happy to come in your mouth, tonight was different.

“Need your cunt,” he clarified with slurred, pussy-drunk words.

“Fuck…okay,” you gasped, your voice rough from having your husband’s dick down your throat.

Maneuvering you onto your back amongst the pillows was an easy task for Marc, your body made pliant and prone by the delicious orgasm. He leant down to share an absolutely filthy kiss with you, greedily tasting the tang of the two of you together, before he locked eyes with yours. Only once your dilated pupils had found his did Marc drape your leg over his shoulder and slide home.

You rewarded him with a drawn-out keen, writhing under his dark, suffocatingly hot gaze. He began with slow strokes, grinding himself against your pelvis, luxuriating in being one.

“So deep, daddy,” you whined. Speared on his cock, your frame convulsed when he undulated against you, since your slit still felt like a live-wire after your orgasm.

He rocked even more torturously slowly where you were joined, circling those sinful hips so you could feel every inch of him. “You like it?”

“Uh huh,” you gasped, jerking once again from oversensitivity.

Your husband transitioned to a faster pace to impale you on his member. His increase in tempo earned a euphoric whimper from you. With no orgasm to chase, you could simply revel in the sensation of his dick filling you over and over, losing yourself in the stretch of your pussy around his thick girth.

“Yeah…come on, take daddy’s cock,” he snarled as he thrust into you, backing off his ferocious rhythm some. “So fuh-fucking tight.”

“So big,” you whimpered, pretty sure that you were about a minute away from vibrating out of your skin.

“No one fucks you like daddy, right?” Marc slowed, waiting for your answer before driving into you any further.

You shook your head so rigorously, your cheeks collided with the pillow as your neck thrashed back and forth. “Please daddy, pound my pussy!”

He approved of your response with another growl, “Well, since you asked so nicely,” and resumed a punishing pace.

From there, it was a blur of the sound of skin slapping skin, Marc’s grunts, your cries, and your husband testing your flexibility by stretching your leg back to get a deeper angle before his hot cum was painting your walls.

Marc straightened up after emptying himself into you, pressing a small, reverent kiss into the skin of your ankle before releasing your limb.

Honestly surprised that you could formulate words, you somehow commented, “I know the jury’s still out on a second kid, but you are damn good at making them, Marc Spector.”

“As are you, Mrs. Spector,” he echoed, collapsing back on the bed.

He tugged on his boxers once again, and you pulled your nightie back down as you padded to the bathroom to clean and relieve yourself. Marc followed suit, and when he reunited with you in bed, it was important to you to confirm, “Another baby or not, you know you’re a great father, right?”

Usually Marc would deflect with a (often dirty) joke, but this time, shrouded in the darkness of your bedroom, he replied quietly, “I hope so.”

“You are,” you averred and snuggled closer into him. “It’s not just me either, the entire female population at the playground was salivating over you playing with Nyla today.”

“So that’s why you greeted me with that pornographic kiss,” he chuckled.

“You’re mine,” you shrugged, not one bit ashamed of your actions.

Marc pressed a kiss into your hair, “That’s right, baby.”

A/N: Raise your hand if you’ve been personally victimized by Oscar Isaac not putting a baby in you 🙋‍♀️ I’m doggedly making my way through these prompt fills, thanks to everyone again for your patience and support!

Taglist: @twwcs, @rmoonstoner, @hot-mess-express1, @murdickdocked, @toracainz, @saahmi, @unspokenmoon, @winterbiipp, @avatarofseshat @ilikeoldermenhelp, @losers-club6, @harrys-tittie, @ninebluehearts, @lucianadraven32, @dawnsutopia, @strawberry1042, @nikitawolfxo, @weirdo125

#moon knight #moon knight smut #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x female reader #marc spector x you #marc spector smut #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac fanfiction #bit-dodgy's 500 follower celebration #oscar isaac fanfic

621 notes · View notes

twosheds · 10 months

Note

Weird question but......

....how would you rank all 6 Pythons on the basis of who has the most baby-faciest baby-face ever and give reasons why?

OMG what an ask!!! I love it.

Okay, I'm gonna go from bottom to top, bottom being least baby to top being most babiest baby. For fairness, I'm also going to rate them based on their "golden era" i.e Flying Circus time (late 60s/early 70s)

(under a cut to save your dash...I included photos)

6. John - least baby. No baby. 0% babyface

Very dashing, debonair, dark mysterious, and slightly mischievous. Too chiselled to be baby.

5. Graham - a very small amount of baby. maybe 5%

had a bit of babyfication when he was much younger. But too handsome, too manly to be baby.

4. Terry G - only ranks this high because he's smol.

3. Eric - Slight baby. 15% baby.

pretty but not baby. too delicate. Not round enough

2. Mikey P. Second place!? Controversial. The babyfication is strong with this one.

Like 90% baby? Cute button nose, suckable lips. Freckles! Michael loses out on first spot only cos when he got older he turned into a DILF. 🤷 (yeah yeah i know i said i was only basing this on how they looked in Flying Circus era but, i needed extra justification for the winner)

JONESY. TERRY JONES. 100% BABY.

I'll hear no argument. This man was the babiest baby that ever babied. Big doe eyes, dorky baby smile, round face, squeezable cheeks. Jonesy was, is, and always will be the Python baby. There's a reason John called him Little Plum. Not only was Jonesy baby when he was smol, but he stayed baby until the very end. GOD BLESS.

#absolutely fantastic ask thank you #flying circus #sorta...haha #monty python #asks

31 notes · View notes

thesuetyouforgot · 3 months

Note

No one:

Absolutely NO ONE:

Graham Chapman in the 80s, casually just SLAYIN' in based and epic 80s jackets whilst being a INSANELY CRIMINALLY HOT 🔥 looking DILF as well:

Yes, yes, yes, his jackets are iconic! But may I interest you in even more casual Gray?

#Pls excuse the watermarks I have no other versions #graham chapman #asks #yonderghostshistories

10 notes · View notes

anonofseasons · 1 year

Note

I find Vivian interesting because I kinda feel like his age is part of the problem. He seems like he's be too prideful to really be able to own up to his mistakes in general but add on that he's several hundred years old and I just know that trying to get him to admit any wrong-doing is like trying to get blood from a stone. -🫖

This ask makes me so happy. Thank you for sharing your take! It's validating to see people dislike Vivian for being abusive, but when I present characters, I hope they're dimensional enough to give people pause to think about what's going on and where that comes from, as well as why it might be accepted. Well, if the readers want to do so. I won't demand or expect it, obviously. I'm just here to write what comes into my head. When I share it, well, what happens happens from there. All the "let's beat up Vivian" responses are--I assume--in good fun. At least, that's the way I take them. ;) I'm going to ramble, so I'll put the rest behind a cut to spare everyone who wants to avoid hearing the author's thoughts on a character when they'd like to formulate their own. And to spare everyone the length. I'll try to navigate around spoilers as best I can.

I love that you bring up Viv's age, because it's a huge factor in multiple ways. Firstly, it means that he's used to much more outdated ideas about how to raise children and his values in general. And the "present" of this world is only marginally better. To sum it up: He's old-fashioned. The mention about pride and hundreds of years... Yes! Who has kept him in check over the past few centuries? Graham? No. We know that's not the case--by ch 24, it blatantly states that there's a power imbalance. Graham is dependent upon Viv to live. Graham has tried to convince him that certain things are bad. But Vivian mostly redefines how he's treating his children, so it's like turning a circle into an oval. It's different! Except not by much. Vivian doesn't hate his children. But his definitions of love are fucked up. (And I hesitate to be too real here, but I've dealt with too many IRL people who aren't dissimilar. They treat their "wonderful kids" like garbage. I came from such a background with my bio family.) Viv cares about his children's happiness and welfare up to the point it becomes inconvenient or upsetting for him. And he's happy to maintain control. And when he loses control--sees it slipping from him--he reacts very badly, as seen in the earlier chapters as Howie "presses his luck" with his father. When El does the same. They're challenging his balance. And the realm he has created within his estate is full of comfortable routine and habit. He is also genuinely terrified of one of them dying. Graham or one of the kids. Death is something he understands but has seldom experienced, and it's also someplace he will never be able to follow if everyone around him dies. Viv is old-fashioned, controlling, physically attractive, at times incredibly manipulative, and he's terrifyingly powerful. That's one hell of a combination. I feel like I'm saying way too much as the author, which is another reason I put a read more line. I used "cut" earlier, and I'm not changing it, even if it shows my age. That way people can skip it. I want everyone to have their own thoughts and takes about this character. I want people to be free to hate him, or even call him a DILF, or whatever, because in the end, this is all fiction.

#Vivian Liddell

8 notes · View notes

ingravinoveritas · 2 years

Note

Michael seems so refreshed and relaxed at the moment. Such a joy to see him like this. 🤍

Yes! I could not agree with you more, Anon. The difference between Michael now and this time last year (well, the end of 2020) could not be more pronounced. Physically, of course, his appearance has been altered because of filming for GO 2, but there is so much more that’s been taken off of him than the beard. His spirits seem lighter, the weight on his heart and mind lifted after pressing down so terribly hard on him for so long. He’s working again, steadily working...and more importantly, not locked down in his house, which clearly seemed to have a detrimental effect on his mental health (as it did for so many of us).

The most fundamental difference, in my opinion, is that he has spent the last few months working with David. Obviously, there are other factors that could and do contribute to Michael seeming so refreshed and relaxed, but to me, this is a clear cumulative effect of being around David. Yes, Michael is working on a project (Good Omens 2) that is so near and dear to his heart, but what seems to make it even more special is that he is working on it with David as Crowley. Everything about Michael has glowed since he first stepped foot on the set, and it is amazing to see him carry that happiness off the set as well.

If I had to pick one of the many recent appearances Michael has made as a standout, however, I would have to go with the New Year’s Eve show for Graham Norton. I’ve just gotten to watch the whole thing now, and dear god, Michael looks so fucking sexy here:

The hair. The blazer. The turtleneck. He looks fit and handsome, and above all else it’s that glow from within that really does it. A happy Welshman is a hot Welshman, in my opinion.

Oh, damn the rules, I’m going to pick another appearance: The Staged New Year’s Eve special.

I love that fluffy, white-blond hair juxtaposed with the thatch of dark chest hair peeking out from his shirt, and that little bit of stubble coming in on his face. Michael on Graham Norton is all “dazzling playboy/sexy DILF in the city” aesthetic, but Michael in the Staged special is “rugged, sexy lumberjack waiting to throw you down and pleasure you on a bearskin rug in front of a roaring fire” aesthetic. Both are very different, and both are very, very hot.

So yes, it is most certainly a joy to see Michael so happy and relaxed these days. I can’t wait to see how the second half of filming GO 2 with David adds to this delightful trend. Bless...

#anonymous #reply post #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #staged #or 'Brokeback Mount Him' which is what I am referring to Staged as from here on out #good omens 2 #the graham norton show #i'm feeling a lot of feelings #but mostly i just love seeing Michael so happy #and in such a better place mentally #bless his bisexual Welsh chaos #love #<3 #discourse

32 notes · View notes

hotwings0203 · 3 years

Note

as ur irl bestie i am cashing in my favor and am asking- no begging for a dilf damon fic pls <3

😑fine fineee I guess I can take a quick break from writing BNHA stuff for you🙄

CW: NSFW, Damon Albarn being an a-hole, manipulation, gaslighting, language minor stuff like that

The studio itself was pretty spacious, you couldn't lie. As much as you loathed to give this cursed group any more credit, you were hard-pressed to remember the last time you´d been called into such a professional recording booth. You were used to dingy atmospheres, crumbling walls, stained carpet, and even cramped garages at times. It felt like your years of meticulously swaying your hand back and forth on the rosin and tuning your strings until they damn near popped were slowly going down the drain, lost in spaces of screaming adolescent boys and shady market agents. The streets of London were unforgiving for a young musician like you, no room to turn to since others were exactly in the same position as you.

It was by pure coincidence that the day you had played for a local cafe for a small commission, Graham fucking Coxon was sitting in the back of the run-down joint, sipping a murky glass of Bourbon.

You didn't notice him at first, of course. You had simply let the music in your mind travel from your head down to your arms, and allowed it to move through your fingertips to your bow. The serene melody that sang through the air had turned his head to face you, the shitty drink in his hand stopped halfway to his mouth.

Your solo was only a couple of minutes, but the second you were done and packing your bags to head out, the brunette made a beeline for you, blocking your exit.

¨Uh, can I help you?¨ You cock your head and shift your violin case.

¨Yes, you can actually. Listen, I know this is gonna sound a bit straightforward, but I really liked your piece. Did you compose it yourself?¨ He sounds quiet and sounds nervous, with him barely looking you in the eyes.

¨Yeah, I did!¨ You can´t help but beam-it took you several days just to perfect a few meager lines, but in the end you were content with the piece.

¨Wow...that's serious talent right there,¨ He opens the door for you, and you nod before you head out, him trailing behind you as he leaves with you.

¨You make a good amount of money doing small jobs like this?¨ His voice is nasally and low, but with a slightly higher pitch than your typical London accent.

At this, you squint your eyes a bit and turn your head at him. It was nice of him to be interested in your work, but for someone you don't personally know, the idea of talking about your small gigs that merited little to no money was not something you were fond of.

He senses your hesitancy and immediately withdraws. ¨I´m sorry, that was probably rude of me to be so blunt about it. Actually, I don´t think I´ve properly introduced myself.¨ He stops to face you, and you do the same.

¨I´m Graham Coxon. You may or may not have heard of me, but I can assure you that I too enjoy music, as an understatement.¨ He extends a calloused hand and smiles a little bit, adjusting the blocky glasses on his face.

Graham...Coxon? Graham as in....oh, holy shit.

¨No way.¨

¨Er...unfortunately, yes way.¨ His soft voice lilts as he holds back a laugh, and you gape at him.

¨Oh my god!¨ You drop your violin case in the excitement of eagerly returning his handshake. ¨You-you're from Blur! I know you!¨

¨Was from Blur, and ´careful now, don´t wanna ruin your instrument. But listen, I´m kind of in a bind here so I´ll get to the chase. We´re working on a few chords here and there back at the studio, and I´ve been on the lookout for a while for someone who fits our tune. ´Thing is, the deadline for submitting our song is comin´ up fast, so we only have a couple weeks left.¨

You raise your eyebrows, heart pounding in your chest as you listen to his proposition.

¨So I´m thinking, you sound pretty good, it's exactly what we need to fill in our bridge. I´d love it if you came in and played a tune for us. If we like you and you´re cool with it, you could feature on our song.¨

It feels surreal. Were you hearing right? Graham Coxon from Blur asking you to play on his song? This had to be a prank.

¨Ẅait, but you've only heard me once, what if my sound doesn't match what you're actually looking for?¨ You stammer, palms clammy as you wipe them off on your trousers.

¨Well, that's what a rehearsal session is for, lovely,¨ He chuckles nervously and slides his slightly foggy glasses up his nose. ¨So, you wanna give it a go?¨

You think for a moment, biting your lower lip. There wasn't exactly anything stopping you now, was there? I mean, sure, the prospect of playing in front of one of UK's most famous bands was daunting, but this was your chance to finally be recognized!

Taking a deep breath, you pick up your fallen case and nod. ¨Alright, I´m in. When you do wanna meet up?¨

Graham visibility deflates in relief, letting out a shaky exhale. ¨Great. I'll text you the time and place, yeah? The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up, so we´ll be in contact soon.¨

You both exchange numbers, your phone tingling in your hand long after you bid farewell and drive home in a buzz.

When you finally get home to your apartment, you throw your keys onto the counter and flop down onto the mattress. What a fucking day.

So many thoughts bounce around in your addled head. You want to do well, but obviously you don't have their kind of experience in the industry. Should you play more in tune with their song, or continue with your own sound? An idea pops into your head amidst your lunch, a few hours later. Why not just do some more research on the band themselves? Then you'd know exactly what kind of music they're looking for.

The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up.

Oh yeah, who else was in the band? It's not like you didn't know who Blur was at their peak, but you paid more attention to their music rather than their faces. Truthfully, you never really basked in tabloids and newspapers purring about the next big scandal, or the top dogs of Britain´s industry when that stuff was relevant.

You abandon your pathetic sandwich and make your way to your laptop, sliding into a chair and getting down to business. After a few quick searches, you pull up a couple tabs around the name Blur.

Graham Coxon- Recovering alcoholic. Big fight with Damon Albarn.

Alex James- Cute boy turned conservative. Classic case.

Dave Rowntree- Mainly untouched. Became a successful lawyer. Good for him.

Damon Albarn- A fucking mess.

Puffing up your cheeks and putting your hands behind your head, you lean back in your chair. Good god, this man is a wreck. Headlines from decades ago swim in and out of your eyes, loud, obnoxious neon prints of Justine and Damon broken up again? Suede claps back!, or Will the Blur Brothers ever come back to each other? Find out first-hand from Coxon himself!, and worst of all, Albarn relapses again, Damon Albarn from Blur goes head-to-head with Liam and Noel-news flash, the brothers win!

You think you see something about him and a potential wife and child, and that's when you decide it's time to sleep.

After all, there's no point in getting caught up in any of their backstories.You were just there to play a solo and get out. Nosing around in their lives was more trouble than what it was worth, anyways.

Which is exactly what you kept trying to tell yourself as you walked into the modern studio two weeks later, its grey soundproof walls and white floor screaming fancy and rich to you. And fancy and rich didn't come without grit and experience, which you had none of. As if to emphasize your inexperience, you went into the wrong halls twice before you exasperatedly checked your messages with Graham and saw that no, it wasn´t room 311, it was room 113.

Finally, finally, you came across your designated room. The mahogany door was closed, and you placed a hand on the silver knob. You could faintly hear the sounds of a guitar being played from the inside, and it was curiosity above everything else that compelled you to push it open.

From behind the clear window that separated the booth from the recording area, you see them. Graham, Damon, and other men you don't recognize are all in the midst of the song, the same song Graham had texted you the PDF of for the violin notes. You sheepishly take a few steps forward and clear your throat to catch the attention of a bald man leaning back against his chair right in front of the glass. He turns around and you give a weak little wave, clutching your case in the other hand.

¨Hey, I´m here for-¨

¨-Yeah, yeah, Graham told me all about you. Go on ahead and join in, they just started.¨ He pulls a toothpick out from between his lips and gestures to the door of the divider.

You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you make your way through the second door, and the second you step inside meekly, Damon and Graham´s eyes are on you.

Graham continues to play the guitar, only lighting up his eyes and giving you an encouraging nod when you step in, and the other two men on bass and saxophone also give a quick smile in greeting. And Damon…well.

Damon barely acknowledges you.

He continues to sing and stare straight ahead at the wall in front of him as if there's an interesting scene being played out on the grey paint.

You´re unsure of whether to catch his attention and give a proper greeting, but you decide not to as it would interfere with the song. So instead, you quickly grab a nearby chair and stand and set up your rosin and papers.

Your timing is perfect; the bridge is about to come up. Just to be certain, you look up from your poised position and catch the eyes of most everyone except for Damon´s. They all give you a quick thumbs up or an expectant look for your confirmation of playing.

And then, it comes. Damon stops singing, and your cue to sweep your bow across the horse hairs of your strings comes.

Melodious, whole, fulfilling, it was. Graham´s guitar chords harmonized with the tones of your violin, and music that you´ve never dreamed of creating was made by your hands exceptionally.

Everyone was in awe of your raw talent, from the way their gazes were rapt onto your bow, moving back and forth,staying still in some highs and whittling away at the lows. You even thought you saw the producer from inside the booth turn his head towards you from the corner of your eye, but you couldn´ be sure.

Everyone except Damon Albarn.

The song ended a minute later with the signal of a fading out bass, and then there was silence.

¨Right on with that tune.. ´Thought we'd be fucked ova´ if we didn't find someone to take that melody.¨ The bassist with long shaggy hair grinned and you returned one back.

¨Yeah, I was kind of hesitant when Graham ´ere told us he found one to take this position on, but I'm pleased.¨ The saxophone player scratched his chin and hummed his agreement. You felt relief.

Until he spoke.

¨Is this your first time playing?¨

You look incredulously over at him, looking straight on at his face. Sandy hair, lines on his cheeks, slight scruff around his chin, he looked older than his online pictures.

¨Uhh, no?¨ You laugh a little, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice. ¨If I was, I doubt Graham would think I´m good enough to play with you guys.¨

¨I don't think Graham is the only one who needs to think that.¨ Everyone shifts uncomfortably, looking nervously from Damon to you, and Graham tugs his collar as if the temperature had gone up.

But nonetheless, you don't back down.

¨Oh yeah? How so?¨

¨You played the G-string too high,¨ He deadpans, looking utterly bored amidst oceanic hues.

¨What?¨ You flip your music pages a couple of times until you find the page where you played that part. ¨No I didn´t, I was right on tune-do you even know how to play the violin?¨

¨No,¨ he smirks, and with your blood boiling steadily you open your mouth to argue, but thankfully Graham butts in.

¨Damon, don´t be a prick, she played fine. Unlike you, who fucked up on the 5th verse.¨

The man in question lazily stretches his arms above his head, causing his white tee to rise a few inches over his belly button. You can´t help but glance at the skin-it's smooth, cleanly chiseled with part of his v-line showing, a happy trail rising from the juncture.

¨Oi, sweetheart, eyes up here.¨

You snap your gaze back to his smug face, cheeks burning.

¨I didn´t-¨

¨Sure you didn´t. Just like how I didn't mess up on the 5th verse, and how you didn't ruin the song with your shitty violin, yeah?¨ He simpers, and you almost rise out of your seat to snarl at him before Graham jumps in between you two, scolding a very inappropriately-grinning Damon.

You get up out of your chair and huff, shoving your belongings back into your bag as everyone else packs up, the men bickering and playfully throwing shit at each other.

The producer even congratulates you on your successful first day, and everyone cheers and pounds you on your back, your hair falling in your face and gracefully hiding your 120k watt smile.

Damon shoulders right past you, knocking your case right out of your hands. You grapple with it for a second before it hits the ground, and when it does you whip around and shoot him an icy glare.

He's not even looking at you, he's already out the door.

It's quiet for a moment.

¨Well, there he goes again being a dickhead. Classic Damon, you got.¨ The saxophone player points to the leaving blond and grins sheepishly at you.

¨What's his problem?¨ You ask in disgust, shaking your head as you join the rest of the boys leaving.

¨Uh, well...¨ Graham scratches the back of his head and avoids looking at you. ¨He's always been kind of like that, y´know, so don't take it too personally, but between just us four, his wife´s been on his arse for a bit about um...some...domestic affairs.¨ He finishes lamely, and the other two men guffaw at your raised eyebrow.

You don't have a chance to press further as to ask what domestic affairs, exactly because a loud clap of thunder shakes you all to your cores as you step outside.

¨Aw, come on!¨ You stamp your foot and hold out your hand for confirmation of the raindrops about to drop on you all. ¨I didn't know it was gonna rain today,¨ you grumble.

Graham squints up at the sky and wipes some droplets off his blurred glasses, covering his head with his jacket hood as he begins walking to the parking garage. ¨I´ll see you lot in about a week, yeah? Just keep practicing, good rehearsal we had today!¨ He waves his hand and dashes off.

¨Good job on your first day, Y/N. Fancy the weather on your walk back for us!¨ The sax and bass player bid farewell and also do a sprint to their respective cars, splashing through the puddles and sending muddy water on your pants.

¨Urgh!¨ You raise your hands to try and protect your bottoms but to no avail- London's sewage strikes again.

Sighing in defeat, you walk through the rain towards your car, succumbing to the grimy walk. Unfortunately you didn't think to use the parking garage due to high nerves when you first came in.

You walk for about 5 minutes, the rain drenching your hair and clothes and chilling you to your bones.

Could this day get any more annoying?

Oh, but you should´ve known that it could.

Because right at that moment, a black limo swerves right next to you on the sidewalk, sending a massive wave of gutter water right your way.

You swear loudly and jump back, barely managing to avoid the remnants of the sewage tsunami crossing your feet.

Looking up wildly at the offensive vehicle, you make a fist and flip the window off, your lip curled up into a snarl.

The obsidian glass rolls down.

¨Well that's not very nice, is it? Nasty weather we got going on right now, careful it doesn't get on your clothes.¨

Oh.

¨It's you,¨ you monotone, less than pleased to see his salacious grin at your predicament-which was being soaked to your undergarments in brown muddy water, your hair clinging to your face and your violin case lugging down towards the ground, its weight proving mutiny against you today of all days.

¨In the flesh,¨ Damon beams, and you scowl at his cheery attitude.

¨You almost drowned me, asshole,¨ You turn your nose up in scorn, and he chuckles in his baritone voice.

¨Nah, cant´ve love, I can't drive,¨ he clicks his tongue and jerks his thumb to the seat in front of him, where you assume his chauffeur is.

¨Oh, so it was under your orders that your poor driver practically waterboarded me?¨ ¨Well, yeah, I mean what else do you expect me to do when I see a pretty lady walking so harmlessly in the rain?¨ Your voice catches in your throat for a second from his words and the way his glacial eyes twinkle for a moment, but then he erupts in dry chuckles at your demeanor and you throttle your hesitancy at speaking.

¨Shut up, you're absolutely vile, y´know that?¨ ¨So I´ve been told, but to be honest sweetheart, I´d rather hear that in bed, where I´m used to hearing it. Now are you going to get in or shall I talk about my sexual prowess with you the rest of the afternoon?¨ He opens his door from the inside and mockingly winks at you.

You feign a gag, but still decide to jump in the spacious limo when a flash of lightning lights up the sky.

He scoots back to give you space to sit and adjust your violin case on the seats in front of you, but just as you´re about to close the door, he leans in right next to you and reaches behind you to pull it shut himself.

You´re caught still as he draws close, you´re extended hand frozen in midair as his arm against your back flexes and stiffens with it pulling the door. You can feel his breath against your neck as he exhales, can feel some of his hair tickling against your ear and cheek. You hold your breath, not daring to move lest you accidentally brush up against his proximity.

The loud slam of the door causes you to jump, and he laughs a little at that, signaling his driver to go.

You don't quite face him, your gaze down in your lap as his entire body is facing you, still stuck in its position when he was closing the car door.

¨Not nervous, are you?¨ He murmurs in your ear, and you can´t help it when your whole body shivers at feeling the rumble in his gravelly voice.

¨N-no, I´m not. Do you have to be so close?¨ You stammer, barely giving him a sideways glance which eggs him on, much to your displeasure.

¨Not really. But if you´re not nervous, then it shouldn't be a problem, right?¨ He says quietly and leans around to catch your eye.

Before you can lose your nerve and jump out of the car, you snap at him. ¨You just don´t quit, do you?¨

He finally relents and the side of his pink lips lift lazily as he stretches his knees out and practically manspreads across the expanse of three seats. ¨Nope. Not that you really were against it though, ´could feel your heart pounding a mile a minute sweetheart. Trust me, I´m used to making girls nervous, I would know.¨

You sneer at him. ¨Don´t call me sweetheart, and yeah, I was nervous about getting some disease-ridden prick like you getting close to me. God knows how many STD´s you've contracted from bedding some poor groupies.¨

¨Only one way to find out, right love?¨ He leans his head up to the car ceiling and lets his tousled golden hair flop back, his jawline accentuated by the cream-colored seats contrasting with his tan skin.

You catch yourself staring, and shake your head quickly.

¨You must´ve been more hopped up on heroine than I thought if you think I´d ever fuck a self-absorbed, narcissitic bastard like you.¨

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, but once they do your eyes widen and you clap a hand over your mouth in horror.

Damon lifts his head and slowly turns to face you, his mouth set in a thin line.

¨A self-absorbed, narcissistic bastard whose limo you're riding in, need I remind you, so I can´t be all that bad. ´Can't say I haven't heard any of that before love, but most girls who say that end up in my bed anyways.¨

You open your mouth to argue but he cuts you off.

¨Although, ´hopped up on heroin´ is a new one. Just exactly how much research have you done about me so far?¨

Your rebuttal dies in your throat. You were caught.

Your ears burn and your face flushes as you bite your lip in embarrassment. Maybe you went too far, and on top of that you let it slip that you knew about him beforehand.

But you refuse to kowtow in humiliation to this idiot, so you think quickly.

¨I doubt you´ve got your head that far up your ass to disregard how half the world was tuning into your personal life when Blur was big, Damon.¨

He looks unimpressed with your excuse, but before he can open his mouth to question you further, you hurry up with another save.

¨Also, where are we going? You never asked me where my car was.¨

Bingo His eyes brighten and he shouts at the driver, harping on about him being a brain-dead idiot for driving in circles the past 10 minutes.

What a save.

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

The moment you step into the booth next week, a drumstick is lobbed at you from seemingly nowhere. You yelp and hold your case up, blocking the weapon as it bounces off your makeshift shield. You bring the case down and shoot a glare towards the only man you know capable of acting so childishly at his grown age.

But he´s already scrolling through his phone, looking for a measure to start from.

¨You´re late.¨

¨Hardly,¨ you mutter, glancing at the clock on the wall. Two minutes past shouldn´t be an excuse for having a drumstick pick out your eye.

¨Good to see you again, Y/N,¨ Graham pipes up softly, sending you an apologetic glance from Damon to you and you stick out your tongue in faux annoyance.

The other two members of your group greet you as well, and you all begin practice. Notes begin harmonizing together, voice and sound coinciding to make music you´ve swayed your hips and nodded your head to on blue nights.

It´s a hot day, humidity clinging to your skin akin to the perspiration hanging off your forehead, and halfway through the song you decide to take off your sweater. You´re wearing a white tank top underneath, nothing too revealing save for the slight dip in the V-neck, but you couldn't care less about modesty at the moment when your fingers were literally slipping in their grasp on your sweat-slicked bow.

During a quick break in your part of the song, you slip off your sweater and fan yourself out. It feels good, but you feel a pair of eyes staring at you. Following the laser gaze, you turn your head to face Damon, but he´s nose-deep in the lyrics sheet, warbling about a broken love or friendship.

Huh, must´ve been imagining it.

Your solo comes up, and you prepare yourself for tackling the notes to your best ability, keeping up with Graham´s rapid guitar pace. Sweat continues to build on everyone´s vicinity when the rapid movement of arms waving around their own instrument causes more body heat to suffocate you all.

Miraculously, the song finishes, and you collapse in your seat like the rest of the men, panting and wiping slick off your foreheads. You reach for a bottle of water on the floor and unscrew the lid, grimacing at its lukewarm temperature but drinking it nonetheless.

For the second time, you have an unnerving feeling of being watched. This time, you whip your head to the side and catch him staring straight at you.

Damon´s face is flushed, his hair tousled, his rose colored glasses steamed up from the muggy aura in the room. His denim jacket is hanging off one shoulder, the rest of his torso covered with a sheer wife beater that accentuates his chiseled dad-body.

But he just stares you down, saying nothing. You frown at him a little bit and shift your body away from him, feeling vulnerable to his laser-gaze. His eyes darken, but Graham speaks, cutting him off from whatever he was about to say.

¨That was pretty good, you lot. Greg, Taz, hold off on the third beat of the fourth measure. We´ve gotta crescendo slightly-¨

¨Y/N, do you have a job?¨

Damon's voice cuts off Graham, and everyone falters as they look at him and then you in surprise.

¨I don´t know what you mean,¨ you respond coolly, knowing that whatever he was about to say wasn't good.

¨I mean, do you have a job? Because as far as I know, most people who work don't dress like whores at their job.¨

His eyes travel from your face down to your slight cleavage, and you sputter in rage as the rest of the boys shift uncomfortably.

¨Damon, for god's sake what´re you on about?¨ Graham asks wearily, taking his glasses off and rubbing his shiny neck.

¨I could ask you the same thing, actually. Because as far as I know, you've fucked enough women in your lifetime that one would think you could keep it in your pants for five minutes without acting like a twelve-year-old. Oh, but unless that´s too professional for you? I guess you´re not as serious about your work environment as you claim.¨ you laugh, and the sax player, Greg, snorts into his water bottle.

Damon sneers, ¨How could I forget, you actually have done your research about my life and sexual endeavors, what a cute little fangirl you are. If you wanted an autograph, you could've just asked, sweetheart.¨

¨Go fuck yourself,¨ you snap. ¨You´re all wearing wife-beaters anyways, what's the difference?¨

Damon starts again but Graham claps his hands loudly, startling you all.

¨Enough, both of you! What's gotten into you? Need I remind you that our song is due in less than two weeks? We need to finish this shit and get on with it. Stop acting like children.¨

You mumble under your breath and Damon shoots a dark look to his childhood friend, but the brunette doesn't back down, and continues to give advice on how to improve their song. You don´t look at Damon the rest of the session out of pure spite, but that doesn't stop him from shamelessly staring straight at you, right until it's time to leave.

The second Graham checks his watch and exclaims that it's a quarter past twelve already, you´re already bolting out of your seat and shoving your violin in its case, eager to get out of the disgustingly hot room.

Fortunately, this time you had the right idea to park in the garage like everyone else to avoid any other unwanted encounters, but unfortunately while it was nice to not be waterboarded on your walk, it wasn´t enough to stop said unwanted encounters from occurring.

Take right now, for instance.

As you stumble to your car in the blistering weather, your energy depletes faster and faster, causing you to be light headed. Practice was already tough enough in the sweltering heat, but after Damon's little scene you don't have any energy to even walk.

You crash blindly into your car, the metal of the doors burning your skin as you make contact with the handle. You hiss and jerk back, swaying slightly as your head fogs up. You can barely see, you feel like your clothes weigh a ton on you, so you slide down the vehicle and sit up against the tires, throwing your head back against the car and groaning. The idea of unlocking your doors and sitting in the seat where no doubt several temperatures higher will be settling on the dashboard and in the front row is nauseating.

Weather-2

You-0

You don't know the building well enough to know where a vending machine is, and even if you shot Graham a text, you don't have enough energy to wander around and scout for it.

And lo and behold, from a distance, a figure approaches. You squint as it draws nearer, and let out a laugh as the features come into familiarity.

The heat must be getting to you worse than you thought, because you´re certain you´re hallucinating Damon Albarn of all fucking people swaggering towards you, one hand holding his denim jacket over his shoulder, and a shit-eating grin on his face as he comes to stand in front of you.

All you can do is pant like a dog, looking up at him with unimpressed eyes.

¨Oi, G-String. ´Brought you some water.¨ he holds out a hand, and you choose to ignore the offensive nickname, insead noticing the large bottle in it, cold condensation covering its expanse.

Your eyes widen and you lick your lips unconsciously, holding your hands out for it.

Damon watches your tongue poke out and loses focus before snapping back to reality and moving his arm above your head. You pout and try to reach for it again, but he laughs and holds it even higher.

You glare and turn your head away from him, suddenly remembering how he embarrassed you earlier.

¨Go away. I don't want it anymore. You´re an asshole.¨ you mumble, perspiration hanging off your lip as you lick the salty beads away once again.

Damon´s eyes never leave your mouth as he listens to you and watches the pink appendage make its appearance again, and his mouth hangs open slightly unbeknownst to you for a second. You cross your arms and glare at the empty parking lot, silently willing him to go away.

He snaps back into focus yet again and shakes his head at you. ¨Oh come on love, I´m just teasing. You look like you´re about to die anyways, might as well make this your last meal-er, drink I mean.¨

¨I´m not taking anything from a complete dickhead who enjoys harassing women about their clothes. You know, for such a womanizer, you act pretty clueless about how comments like that would make a girl feel. No one else but you had an issue with it, or rather, had the audacity to point it out.¨ You cough at the last word, your dry throat and heavy head making it harder to talk.

He sighs and crouches down, balancing on the balls of his feet. He pops open the cap and gently turns your chin towards his face, much to your surprise. You´re genuinely too weak to protest, but when you look at his concerned face, eyebrows scrunched up and accentuating the lines on his forehead, you don't think you'd want to turn away even if you could.

He coaxes your agap mouth even more open by dragging a rough thumb down over your lips, and you obediently open your mouth, mesmerized by his eyes. His movements are soft and slow, as if you were a fidgety rabbit about to run off at the slightest touch. He scoots closer, right over in front of you as you simply gaze up at him, allowing him to pour cool water down your throat, quenching your bone-dry palate.

For a couple of seconds, water floods your mouth but all you can do is stare up at him. The light rays are reflecting off his back, casting a yellow glow around his silhouette and he almost looks like an angel. His hair is mussed as if he'd spent the day running his hands through the golden locks, and the scruff on his face peeks through soft-looking skin.

¨Swallow, or I'll really waterboard you this time,¨ he says lowly, chuckling a bit as he catches you staring so adamantly right in his face. You jerk back to consciousness and swallow hastily, accidentally choking on the gulp in your rush.

He laughs even more and lets go of your chin much to your disappointment as he adjusts himself to sit next to you, not seeming to mind the scorching car metal. The absence of his hand on your face leaves a cold, empty feeling in your heart despite the heated blush on your cheeks

¨You´ll burn yourself,¨ you mumble, lolling your head over to look at him.

But he looks straight ahead and shrugs casually. ¨Not any more than you.¨ You both sit in silence for a few minutes, occasionally sipping from the bottle he passes towards you and watching cars go by.

¨You didn't answer my question. Why do you harp on me in the studio? You act like a normal human being here.¨

Damon looks thoughtfully at a white sedan passing by, then speaks.

¨As I´m sure Graham has blabbed to you already, I´ve been having some...trouble with the missus, let's say.¨

You say nothing and raise a questioning eyebrow.

¨For the shitty attitude,¨ he mutters and swipes the bottle from your hand, taking a large swig himself.

¨And, like you said earlier, I am an asshole. Of course I´ll enjoy harassing pretty women over their revealing clothes,¨ he smirks and gives you a once over.

There it was again, pretty woman.

You scowl and get up to leave, but what he says stops you in your tracks.

¨Taz was lookin´ at you,¨ he says quietly, suddenly very interested in the now-empty bottle. ¨´Didn't like it, but I couldn't say anything to him. Graham likes him too much.¨

Huh. Maybe the pair of eyes you felt back in the room didn't only belong to Damon.

He cracks a small smile and looks up at you, his face adorably innocent and wide as he sheepishly admits, ¨I´m used to butting heads with blokes like him for women.¨

You jerk back up to your feet, brushing off any insinuation he was giving and pat his knee awkwardly, ignoring the fire now igniting once again in your chest.

¨Thanks for the water, I needed it. You might wanna move if you don't want to get run over by my car.¨ You reach down and pick up your case as Damon clambers to his feet.

He looks amused as you fumble for your keys, nervously turning the lock and sitting in the hot car, obviously eager to get away from his intimidating gaze.

¨I´ll see you next week, yeah?¨ You laugh breathlessly and roll your window down to call out to him.

He says nothing, but merely cocks his head at you, his eyes now obscured by the rose-colored glasses he puts over his eyes. He waves a little and watches as you drive away a little too fast.

But as it turns out, you don't see him next week.

******

It was just your luck that one of the cutest guys from your work asked you out on the very same week you had practice with the boys. You contemplated moving the date to another time, but...you deserved to have some fun time off too, right? It's not like it would make too much of a difference in your skill, anyways, you´ve gotten all the strings down and such.

So, you decide to go on this date. It goes well, the dude was cute, dorky, lacked a little pizzazz but nothing a bottle of fancy red wine and a night of movies couldn´t coax out of him. It honestly wasn't anything too big, you exchanged numbers and made plans to meet up again soon. After parting ways, you threw yourself back into the regular regime of practicing your violin and meticulously listening to the booth recording every night, just so you could perfect your part to a T.

The day came where you had to go back to practice, and you were ready, veins pumping with determination to make these last few sessions the best you´ve played yet. You texted Graham that you´d be there soon, and he gave you a thumbs up in return. When you finally arrived in front of the room, you were 10 minutes late. The boys were already playing, by the sound of the percussion booming outside the door. You grimace and take a deep breath, turning the handle in and hurrying inside the booth.

No one really spared a glance at you, so you assumed you were okay in terms of punctuality. You opened your case and started strumming your strings, counting the measures and beats until it was your turn. Damon´s voice rang out, melodious and airy as ever, dropping octaves and floating on soprano tones. Your bow moved across his words, accenting his tones and adding emphasis to his sorrowful song. And then, after a couple of minutes, it was done.

¨Alright you lot, pretty good for today. ´Specially you, Y/N, you caught up pretty quick, I expected you to slack behind but I'm actually impressed.¨ Graham flashed you a nervous grin and you beamed back at him in return.

¨Yeah, speaking of, why were you gone last week? I expected someone who makes below the poverty line would actually want to work for their money,¨ Damon chuckles a little meanly.

You feel your smile drop a smidge.

¨Well actually Damon, not that it's any of your business, but I went on a date.¨ You smirk at him, enjoying the way his mouth opens slightly and moves silently.

But he regroups quickly and glares at you. ¨None of my business? The deadline is only a few days away, and you´re whoring yourself out and going on dates? I guess you´re not as professional as Graham thought.¨

Everyone shifts uncomfortably, and blood rushes to your face, anger clouding your mind. Why was he being like this? He was fine the last time you saw him, you actually thought maybe he was going to change the way he addressed you.

Graham speaks up. ¨Damon. You´re overreacting man, I gave her the okay, and she played fine today. No harm done, seriously, there's no need for that kind of language towards her.¨

¨Actually, there absolutely is a need. If I knew you were going to invite a prostitute as our sub-in then I would´ve never agreed to have her here. Didn´t know you were so low on money Y/N, I would´ve spared you a couple pounds.¨ He sneers.

¨Damon!¨

You laugh bitterly and rise to your feet. ¨Oh that's rich, coming from the man who fucked half the continent just because he couldn't get over one girl. No wonder every real woman in your life including your wife wants to leave, nothing is ever good enough for you. Except heroin maybe.¨

The words leave your mouth before you can take them back, and there's a pin drop silence as if a bomb had been dropped. In a way, it kind of did.

Damo glares at you. Everyone is holding your breath, including you.

¨Get out.¨

¨Hey,-¨ Taz tries to gently interject but Damon throws the mic at him.

¨I said get the fuck out. You´re not practicing with us anymore, you can pack your shit and leave.¨

Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, and you choke out a small ¨Fine.¨

You hear Graham berating him behind you as you fly through the door, telling him that they need you, it's too late to change people, but the words jumble in your ears as the door slams shut. You don't hear what Damon says, if he even says anything, and you aren't interested in his comebacks right now.

It's only when you leave the car, tears streaming down your face in rage and embarrassment that you groan to yourself, your hands reaching an empty seat with one foot out the door-

You forgot your violin case.

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

It's nighttime.

The crickets chirp as you creep silently through the parking garage, the soft thud of your shoes echoing a lot louder than you wanted in the empty lot. The studio itself wasn't closed, but you were sure Damon must have informed the manager there not to let an ex-musician like you back in there.

Wearing a black hoodie and black pants was a smart move- you blended in with the shadows well. The doors weren't locked, and you hiss out a small ¨yesss¨ as you slip inside the mostly dark building. Needless to say, you were proud of yourself for navigating through the windings pitch-black hallways to your old booth.

Testing the handle lightly, you sigh out in relief when that too gives way. Unfortunately though, the second the door shuts behind you, you immediately stumble forward and fall.

The room is dark, darker than the other hallways so you can barely see your hands. The only source of light you´re granted is the dim red bulb on top of the booth door. And speaking of, that's exactly where you need to go...which proves to be harder when you keep bumping into random shit and cursing when you feel potential bruises forming on your shins.

Miraculously you stagger through the next door towards where you last sat, and blindly feel around the floor and chairs for your violin case. You feel nothing there, but panic starts settling in your heart when you can't find it.

¨Looking for something?¨

You scream and lurch backwards, knocking your head into some kind of stand. Groaning, you rub your head and hold a hand on your racing heart as you squint into the dim red room, placing the voice to the person.

¨D-Damon?¨

¨In the flesh sweetheart. ´Knew you'd come back for this, s´just my luck I came back to get it tonight so I could give it to you personally in case you wanted to be stubborn. But this is even better than I could´ve hoped.¨

You make out his silhouette in the obsidian abyss in front of you. He's sitting with knees spread on a chair, a few feet in front of you as he leans his head back on the wall. Your precious violin case is being held hostage in his arms, and it's the absolute love you have for the brittle instrument that propels you to your feet and moves you to get the hell out instead of interrogating him.

¨What, so you were just here the whole time listening to me falling around like an idiot?” You laugh incredulously, and you see the area of his shoulders move up and down.

¨Was pretty funny to watch, honestly. You sound cute when you curse.¨ He stands up to his fullest height now, the red light bouncing off his back, giving him a sort of demonic halo.

You knew it was actually time to leave when you felt those stupid butterflies in your stomach rise up again.

¨Right, well, I´ll be on my way then. Good luck with your song and whatever, I´ll just take the case...¨ You trail off as your extended hand is left in midair, no violin case reaching it.

He cocks his head at you. ¨Why are you in such a rush to leave?¨

You can´t help the scoff that escapes you.

¨Are you serious? You were such an absolute dickhead to me this afternoon, you said all sorts of horrible things to me, and you even fired me for Christ's sake! I want nothing to do with you, so could you please give me my case back so I can go?¨

He's silent for a moment before answering. ¨Are you done yet?¨

It isn´t just the light that's making you see red now.

¨Fuck you, honestly.¨ You whirl around and stomp towards where you guess the door is, ignoring the clatter behind you and bingo you locate the handle, but as soon as you turn it-

A hand reaches from behind you and pulls the ajar door shut.

¨Don´t go. I´m sorry.¨

You´re absolutely still as you feel him towering over you, his arm dangerously close to your midriff as his hand remains on the knob.

His voice is low, and you can feel him breathe against your neck, mere inches away. You can´t help the involuntary shiver that passes through you, and he feels it too, inhaling deeply when he gets close to your ear.

¨You smell so good.¨

¨Leave me alone, Damon,¨ you whisper, your voice catching in your throat from the overwhelming onslaught of emotions passing through you.

He breaths in and slowly lets his hand rest on your side.

¨I can't do that. You know why. You have to have known by now.¨

You tremble in his touch, yet allow his hands to wander down to your hip, the other coming around in a sort of hug to pull you closer to him.

¨We can´t.¨

¨Sure we can.¨

You can feel his erection bumping against your ass.

¨You´re not worth this.¨

¨I´ll make myself worth it.¨

And as soon as he latches onto the back of your neck, you´re like putty in his hands, a moaning mess as he sucks galaxy-colored hickies on your skin. You can feel yourself grow wetter as he shoves his hands up your shirt and teasingly pulls down the bridge of your bra, letting the weight of your tits fill up his hands appreciatively. He starts rolling your hardened buds in between his skilled calloused fingers, and you whine and throw your head back when you feel him rut against your ass, panting raggedly in your ear.

You rub your thighs together, desperate for some form of friction as he squeezes your tits, and then letting one hand ghost across the expanse of your stomach, down to brush against the rim of your panties. Damon chuckles meanly in your ear when you buck against the stilled hand over your mound.

¨You want this?¨ He lightly nips your ear. He smells like old spice and sandalwood.

You nod desperately, frustrated with him not giving you his thick fingers already.

But it's not enough for him. ¨No no, pretty girl, use your words now. I´ve barely touched you yet and you´re already moaning like a wanton little slut for me? And here I was thinking you weren't that easy.¨

You stop jerking your hips and blood rushes to your face at his insulting words. You try to move out of his grip, huffing and regretting the whole thing but he outright laughs now and spins you around, tugging you forward until your chest is slotted against his. You pout at him and look away, but he's quick to grasp your chin and pull you in for a rough yet sensual kiss.

Pushing you backwards against the wall, he deepens the lip-lock, tracing his tongue over your lips, nipping at the soft flesh and darkening his eyes when you whimper and look up at him.

He knows what he´s fucking doing when he again drops his hand under your pants and over your panties, his other palm wound up firmly through your hair. He pulls your head back and lets you breathe for a second from his kiss of death before he speaks again.

¨I didn't hear an answer, slut. Do you want this?¨ He leans forward until his nose brushes against your neck, flicking his tongue out to taste your saccharine flesh.

You tremble against his firm body when he pushes his pelvis against you, letting you feel how hard he is for you.

It doesn't matter anymore. Maybe he was right, maybe you were just an easy slut putting up a facade for him, but when his clothes erection grinds up against your pussy you can't care less.

¨Y-yes, yes, ´want you, please,¨ you pant, frantically gripping the back of his cropped hair as his head descends to mark your neck again.

¨What a good girl,¨ he whispers, finally allowing his digits to oh-so-slowly trace over your mound, pressing down harder when you jerk against him. He finds your wet clit and flicks it a few times, snickering when you gasp and moan. Your body writhes in place but he holds you literally between a rock-or, wall- and a hard place, preventing you from scampering off.

He drums his fingers against your folds, paying no attention to the way you grip his head tighter against you, silently begging him to go further.

But he relents eventually and retires from just pushing and prodding your folds, allowing his slicked fingers to slowly dive into your drooling hole. You whimper and bite back a string of curses when you feel him fill you completely, scraping against your walls for that one special spot.

His mouth moves off your neck and he rises to face you, a stupid smug grin on his wet lips, his eyelids lowered and trained on you. You flush at his lustful expression and gently push his head away, not wanting to accept his victory yet.

¨My fingers are literally fucking you right now, and you still won´t let me look at you? What, too embarrassed you couldn't continue being a stone-cold bitch for long?¨

You open your mouth to snap back but right at that moment he curls his fingers and grazes your G-spot, simultaneously grounding his wet palm against your clit.

With a loud gasp and the sluttiest moan you´ve ever made, you cum hard, your mouth open in a silent scream and your tongue hanging out like a bitch in heat as you do so. You fall forward against him.

You don't even need to look up to know that he has a shit-eating grin on his face.

¨What was that sweetheart? Sorry, ´couldn't hear you over those slutty moans. I think even the pornstars I´ve been with would give you a standing ovation if they heard what you just sounded like.¨

Your words are slurred as you curse nonsense at him, yet you´re still gripping his forearms to keep a hold on yourself. Your ears are ringing and you see spots as you come down from your climax, and surprisingly enough, Damon holds you close and doesn't let you slip down to the ground as you expected to when your knees start to give out.

Instead, he lifts you up quite easily and carries you over to a table in the corner of the room. You don´t know how he even navigates his way through the dimly lit room, but you suppose after almost half a lifetime in studios he knows his way around.

You offer no resistance as he sets you down gently and begins to lift your shirt off of your body. You manage to lift your arms weakly up in the air for easier access to stripping, but when he starts to kneel down to take your pants off you stop his hands at your knees and look at him with scrunched eyebrows.

He stops and looks up at you. His eyes aren't so darkened anymore, they´re wide and imploring, probably noticing your hesitation.

¨Damon, I...¨ You trail off as he maintains eye contact with you and slowly lowers his pursed lips to your calf, lightly pecking his way up to your knees and ensuring that you´re watching his every move.

Your breathing increases again as his pink appendage darts out, his saliva cooling on your exposed thighs. He sucks on the plush skin and turns his head upwards to face you.

You want to run your hands through his hair.

¨You have a wife,¨ You breathe.

¨Not for tonight I don´t.¨

Your voice gets caught in your throat at that. He positions his hands at the side of your knees, fingers curling around the hem of your pants in a second attempt.

¨Let me make you feel good, love.¨

His answer is in the form of your hand reaching for his collar and pulling him up into a standing position until he towers over your seated form, once again breath stolen in a heated kiss.

Damon fumbles with his zipper as you shove your pants off, fully ready for him now, your dampened panties solid evidence of your need for him.

He pulls his cock out and it bounces out, slapping up against his stomach.

You do a double take. The tabloids were right. He was absolutely huge.

It was disgusting almost, it was insulting really. How the fuck could he be that big? You lose count of how many inches he is when you start to get light headed, realizing with a jolt that he plans to put that monster inside you.

And fuck, why did it have to be so pretty too? Normally you wouldn´t use the word pretty to describe a dick, but fuck, that´s the only appropriate word that came to mind as you admired the white flesh as it mixed in with a dull pink flush turning into an angry shade of red as your eyes progressed up to his tip...which was soaked with precum, mind you.

He was neatly shaven everywhere, including his plush balls. No wonder he got to fuck half the continent.

Damon notices your gawking and smiles lazily, taking a fist around his prick and stroking lethargically up and down.

¨You gonna just stare at it all day or are you going to spread those cute legs for me?¨

Spoken like a true middle aged fuck-boyman.

You look up at him beseechingly, thoroughly intimidated by his length. He merely scoffs, winking at you when he wrenches your tightly closed knees apart.

It's almost like he falls into a trance when he presses his now-naked torso against your chest, when he slots himself between your legs and drags his tip through your sloppy folds and up onto your clit. His mouth falls open slightly and he moans when your juices coat his dick, making it slippery and easy to push the first few inches ever so slightly into your spasming cavern.

He can't help but want more, need more as he practically smothers his weight onto you, forcing you to lie back on the table and letting your legs dangle off the edge. He hunches over you and thrusts minutely into your pulsing folds, groaning when you whine and lace your fingers around his neck and tangle your legs around his back, dragging him impossibly close into you.

For a moment it´s just the sound of you two panting and moaning like inexperienced teenagers, and a zing of pride zips up your spine at the realization that Damon Albarn, one of the world's most renowned playboy is whining and humping against your pussy, reduced to nothing at your hands.

He takes your hands from around his neck and grips your wrists, forcing them above your head on the table. He leans down and kisses you, hard. You give him back the same energy when your hips move up and down along his length, pushing your inviting hole towards his eager and jumping dick.

¨Pretty little girl,¨ he murmurs against your lips, and you nip his bottom lip playfully in retaliation. He slowly starts to sink himself into you, and you practically purr at the feeling of his veiny member dragging against your sensitive walls until he stops.

You look at him questioningly, and blanch when you see the mischievous glint in his cobalt eyes.

¨I want you to count for me.¨

¨Count…?¨ You shake your head in confusion and he pulls out, making you groan in annoyance.

¨I want you to count every inch I put inside you. Unless your slutty mouth can't even do that? I'd be surprised if you couldn´t, you usually have so much shit to say.¨ His voice is low yet teasing, and a shiver passes through you when the rumble of his chest vibrates against your nipples.

¨F-fine, I´ll count.¨

He hums in approval and regroups, guiding his length into your awaiting pussy once again.

It´s almsot torture how slow he goes, and your toes curl at how vivid the sensation is at this pace.

You almost forget to do what he asks until he ducks his head down and teeths your bud.

¨Ah, fuck! One!¨ You yelp, writhing to get away from his lecherous gaze and hold on your poor tit.

He tuts and licks the swollen area until the pain subsides a bit, and then he continues to push.

¨T-two,¨ you moan and let your head fall back. It's unfair how tightly he´s holding your reins-you want him to plow you down, not take his sweet time in this punishment.

¨Damon, can´t you go any faster? Please, I want y-¨

¨-I didn't take you for a masochist, Y/N, but I´m happy to play around with these cute tits if you want to bitch more.¨

Your scowl is cut off when he suddenly shoves two more inches into you, and you mewl loudly at being filled so much.

¨Three! Four! Fuck, oh god, please,¨ you babble nonsense as he curses above you, his form shaking in an effort not to push all the way in.

¨Doing so good sweetheart, you´re almost halfway,¨ he smirks and you gape at him in disbelief.

Halfway?

Five, six, seven, eight, and nine go painfully slow, and by the time he´s fully sheathed inside you, plush balls pressed against your ass, you´re an incoherent, drooling mess.

Your hair is in your face, your cheeks are flushed, and your body bounces up and down as he begins to rock inside you, finally giving you what you want.

His name is chanted like an obscene prayer from your mouth as he grunts and shakes the table. Your legs are wobbly and unable to do anything except press him tighter against you to the point where he can barely move back. The skin of his stomach slaps against yours, his balls slap against the crevice of your ass, and your pussy practically sloshes with every stroke in and out.

He fists your hair with one hand and pulls your neck up to meet his searching lips, his other hand holds your wrists fast against the table. You want to touch him, you want to explore your body as he has conquered yours but he doesn't let you feel anything else apart from the rapid thrusts inside your battered body.

Damon switches positions and lifts the back of your knees up and pushes them forwards until they meet your chest. He lets his body weight rest on the back of your thighs as he pulls out and pushes back impossibly close inside you, closer than he did in missionary.

You sob with need as he plunges into you and reaches a higher spot than before, his tip grazing your cervix. He pounds into you, and you thrust your hips up to fuck back into him, calling out his name as if he were your god.

It´s a good thing the rooms are soundproof.

You feel your second climax comes when he paves way through your tight walls and batters your uterus. It doesn´t hurt so much as feel intense, and your choked moans become panting gasps when he brings a hand down to swirl his thumb over your aching clit.

¨You´re not going to meet with that prick from your work again, yeah? Say it. Say it if you want me to let you cum.¨ He could have been speaking an alien language for all you knew. Your poor addled brain didn't pick up anything except for the word ¨cum¨, and you were a goner.

¨Yes, yes, anything you say, anything you want, just please let me-¨

And oh he does.

It comes over you like a tidal wave, your mind going blank, your eyes seeing white as your legs shake from your earth-shattering orgasm. You feel like you´re going down a rollercoaster, and you never want to stop dropping.

Distantly, you hear him groan and say your name. You can feel pulsing in your filled walls, with what you assume is his ropes of cum. It feels like when you came, it practically squeezed all his cum out with your clenching.

He lets out a shaky breath and falls forward, his nose inches from yours, his breath puffing in your face.

Your eyes are glazed over, but you´ve never seen anything more clearly before.

Maybe Damon Albarn really was worth it.

#blur #damon x reader #damon albarn #damon albarn smut #britpop #90s damon #90s #smut #fluff #britpop smut #damon fluff #Damon Albarn #damon albarn x reader #Damon albarn smut #Damon albarn fanfic #Damon albarn fanfiction #blur fanfic #blur fanfiction

240 notes · View notes

strideofpride · 2 years

Note

Okay I would love to hear some more about the nanny au? This sounds very neat (also hello it’s vanderwoodlings! tumblr just hates sideblogs so)

Hi, yes! So like I said Dan is Fran and Blair is Mr. Sheffield. And as much as I love the idea of Chuck being dead, the idea of Chuck not existing at all was more appealing to me (especially cause then I didn’t have to write any Bass kids) so Nate has unfortunately passed on. Vanessa, Serena, and Jenny will probably all get passing mentions here and there but the biggest supporting character is Dorota who’s basically the Niles of course (there’s no CC unfortunately since that just doesn’t really fit with what I’m going for - it’s very loosely based on The Nanny rather than a total rewrite of the show).

Like the show, Blair has three kids: James, Madeline, and Graham (yes you should be picturing Leighton’s fictional son in Single Parents). Dan wins over the boys immediately but Madeline is her mother’s mini me and tries to torture him at first.

And of course, there’s loads of sexual tension and dilf!Dan (in a way)!

#hope this is a good answer without giving too much away!#dair #gossip girl #my fics #vanderwoodlings #strideofprideanswers

10 notes · View notes

dimepdf · 2 years

Note

So I seen your wired Joe Keery x reader fic and I really loved it alot!! I was wondering if you can make different interview(probably with jimmy Fallon) with the same reader or different if you have time!!^^

𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐓. + 𝐉𝐎𝐄 𝐊𝐄𝐄��𝐘

m.list / support me. / taglist.

synopsis. Y/n's viral trending interview where she shuts down rumors about her marriage that has got Twitter in a chokehold.

pairing. joe keery x reader

word count. 1.7k

genre and warnings. milf!actor!singer!reader, VMA’s award, social media fic, mentions of depression, black coded, dilf!joe, parent fic, voice claim: Adele, marriage not beta read | — read the first part one here if you want, they're connected. sorry this took so long <3

Y/n L/n shares details, pics, and heart throbbing memories from Joe Keery wedding weekend.

Y/n L/n The normally private celebrity gave her Instagram followers a sneak peek inside her fairytale wedding to husband Joe Keery.

In a private ceremony at L’Olivetta, a villa owned by Dolce & Gabbana, in Portofino, Italy on Sunday, May 22. All of their closest friends and family members watched as the couple swapped vows surrounded by wildflowers and dreamy nature.

Tying the knot with her husband, Joe Keery, wearing a dress described by Vogue as “a custom off-the-shoulder lace bodice embellished with tiny pale pink and white flowers and seed pearls, layered with tulle for volume, and laced for a fairytale look.”

The ceremony was very private and protected for the famous stars, with less than 30 friends and family members gathered to watch the couple.

Even details of the event were scarce in the days immediately following it. Until Y/n let her fans and the world know by sharing a few photos from her big day.

The first post shows her and Keery exchanging their vows surrounded by their loving family members and friends.

The 26-year-old actress posted a video of herself walking down the aisle to Lord Huron's "The Night We Met," which she and Keery, 30, thought was the "most romantic love song."

The video gives us enough details of how stunning her dress truly looked in addition to some of the details of her dazzling edgy makeup.

Keery and L/n’s romantic history is like something out of a romantic romcom, when the two first met in 2017 as co-stars during the production of the show “Stranger Things” second season.

By the end of the season premier, the two actors were spotted around more and more, until their public announcement was posted that they were in fact a couple just keeping it on the low away from the media.

Unbeknownst to their fans, Y/N took to Instagram in 2019 to make a surprise announcement: she was not only pregnant, but she had already given birth to their beautiful son, Graham.

15 times BLACKPINK Proved the LBD Is a wardrobe staple

Lizzo wore a wedding dress to the beach

Y/n’s MTV VMA’S 2022 red carpet interview

Florence Pugh opted for another sheer Valentino gown

Selena Gomez has a knack for wearing the hottest nail colors

"I'm here with one of the biggest icons of this generation, Y/n / L/n has grown to become a household name since her start in the spotlight of Stranger Things, showing off amazing talents as well as starting her admirable music career, added to being a mother on top of that." The interviewer announced to the camera a very dazzling Y/n standing next to her with a contented smile, adorned in expensive jewelry.

Her makeup look was dark and dramatic with earthy tones that paired well with the main attraction: the dress.

The trailing sheer maxi dress sparkled in hand sewn pearls and different shades of brown beads that covered all of the parts that mattered, with a deep v-line tuck that stopped at the mid of her torso and long flared sleeves that were perfect against her brown skin.

"Y/n, this is your first music awards appearance. How are you feeling today?"

"Oh, I'm always nervous, but mostly excited to be in the company of so many talented artists. It sort of feels weird not watching from behind a screen." Y/n chuckled, folding her arms to cover her chest; her outfit was already trending on Twitter.

"Yeah, I wanted to ask you, what made you want to break away from just acting in the first place?" The lady leaned in as Y/n nodded her lips, pouting a bit as she thought about the question.

"Honestly, my husband Joe, he makes his own music and I've always just been drawn to everything that he writes. He definitely played as a huge inspiration for pushing me into songwriting; without him, I probably wouldn't even know where to start." Her response was humble, pulling on the heartstrings of all of the fans watching that adored the couple.

Y/n has received nominations for a number of awards for her debut album, after breaking into the mainstream with an ep written with her husband Joe Keery, the musical duo collaborating on award-winning songs including their music videos that had collected 3 billion views all together.

Fans conspired, claiming that the album was a response to the media harassing the actress to the point of hospitalization in 2019, with the hit song, Easy On Me, even reaching global charts.

Y/n struggling with the experience of being a new mother paired with Hollywood's nastiest, the couple unbeknownst separated during the time because of the stress.

In 2022, all secrets were revealed with the release of the song's music video.

Y/n directed a 20-minute short film depicting all the emotions and things she had to go through during and even after her pregnancy. With being thrust into the media spotlight, the actress expressed through her lyrics how it took a mental toll on her in some scenes and even talked about heavier topics like suicide.

Y/n uses her music to show fans how truly unhappy she was in her early days of acting and how she was able to heal with the love and support of her now-husband, Joe Keery, and son.

The media was excited to finally see her perform live for the first time since her parody song in 2017 with the Stranger Things cast, her album being promoted virally online as many of her fans couldn't wait to be brought to tears watching the star get the recognition that she truly deserved.

Racking up nominations for: video of the year, artist of the year, song of the year, best new artist, video for good, album of the year, best cinematography, best direction and best longform video.

"I know that I am personally happy that you’re here. There was a rumor going around that you would even be coming."

"Girl, this LA traffic is a mess. I had to lie in the backseat of a van for two hours so I wouldn't crease my dress and don’t even get me started on the heat. My makeup was melting the entire time. I was thinking about just calling it and telling the driver to turn around, but luckily I had my support."

"Yes, it doesn't get pretty hot here. Your dress is so amazing, by the way, you look so stunning. Was that support that you needed, your husband and cast mates that decided to also make an appearance to help cheer you on?"

"Oh lord no, it wasn’t Joe. He was in the van with me annoying the hell out of me. It was my son Graham. It's his first award show and—fingers crossed—if I end up winning anything, I would like him to be there to thank him since he’s the entire reason why the album even exists."

"To elaborate, in the very inmate-looking music video for All Night Parking, you had Hollywood hottie Sebastion Stan as your love interest. How was filming some of those scenes as well as how did Joe feel being behind the camera being the one to film those scenes?"

"He was actually the one that brought up the casting in the first place, but there wasn't really any awkwardness there. The environment in general was just really comforting and I remember we had to do that many times because I kept making Sebastian laugh. It was just all a mess since we were all friends." Y/n answered professionally, staying clear of any negative rumors spreading about her marriage.

"I have just one more question that I know that the fans at home are curious about as well. In your album you talk a lot about your past experiences as well as your break in relationship with Joe, but fans have been theorizing a lot online about your song. Rumor has it, some of the songs may bring up a theme of someone cheating in the relationship or the song was a shade towards actress Maika Monreo, who in the past has had a relationship with Joe. What are your thoughts on those theories? "

After the question was asked, fans watching held their breath, actually surprised that the interviewer would even be disrespectful enough to ask that question to Y/n’s face, the actress sighing, knowing that the headlines would catch up to her at some point.

"Neither actually. The song was actually written about one of my less loyal ex's. I don't write music to spite anyone, nor do I really plan to in the future." The answer came off more stiff, Y/n's tone shifting from friendly to stern at just a snap of the finger.

The interviewer almost crumbling from the weight of the actress's blank stare.

"Of course! Well, I just wanted to feed the fans, you know, we’re all just so excited to see you perform." In the interview, in hopes of saving her career.

Y/n exits away from the frame of the camera with an eye roll, already being used as a meme online.

33,048 Comments sorted by top comments….

User: Y/n..makes an album hoping to cope with her trauma wanting to move on with her life and heal. Interviewers..brings up her trauma for clout.

User: bro the amount of disrespect Y/n has to face baffles me but the way she handles it..QUEEN BEHAVIOUR

User: Poor Y/n. It just goes to show how interviewers don’t care what they ask, they’re making money either way.

User: Y/n was just being so real. She’s so straight forward and said what needed to be said.

User: I felt like apologising to Y/n for not even doing anything

User: i never did anything to offend y/n, but i’m just gonna apologize right now. yaknow, just in case.

User: It’s weirder when you think that all these female celebrities are experiencing this behaviour ON TV. So what goes on behind closed doors? The whole industry is rotten

User: The media seriously owes an apology to women, BIGTIME.

User: the way that Y/n snapped and stood up for Joe yet was still able to keep it classy and professional gave me so much more respect for her.

🔖 @prettyeyedmaureen @hornyavengers @bucky-daddy-barnes @eldriidd @ycarlii @guitarromantic @lafresamilk @haechaniebom @biggestslutever-1stnamegrea-blog @eddiesbitchx @misaamaneswifey @kyyellaxi @hotgirlsshareaccounts @cybergnf @notbeforelong @snailchess @joletown @killjoys-n-whovians @mocswift @coldspoons @ragingginger24 @milkiane @ordelixx @alexloveskili @inglourious-imagines @cellywatt @delishtequila @shawtywithcash @yazmunson @actual-mom-steve-harrington @tsukishimawhore @jaydesworld96 @blkroyalty1 @jackierose902109 @panandinpain0 @disaster-rose @migirl323 @harrycanyonmoonn @1shyshy1sana

tap here to be added to taglist.

#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ 🖍 — works ]#joe keery #joe keery x reader #joe keery imagines #stranger things #stranger things cast #stranger things x reader #dilf!fic #joe keery au #joe keery fanfic #joe keery fluff #joe keery fic #joe keery one shot

269 notes · View notes

slavichorror · 4 years

Note

"Dilf Logan Lerman" Im gonna come stab you, I really am.

he’s literally the god tier choice for reboot will graham so idk what ur talking abt but i wouldn’t mind being st*bbed 😃😃😃

#anonymous #come here anon don’t be shy

5 notes · View notes

mirrorforevers · 3 years

Note

I have been wanting to ask you this but I was a bit embarassed... But anyway, can i request a dilf graham one night stand please?? I am so sorry for being horny, I blame it on gra 😔

here u go, love! took some time for me to write this one but i hope u enjoy it <3

#a answers

1 note · View note

koltarmi · 5 years

Text

Things I liked/noticed about Amélie the Musical UK

Before the show:

• A friend and I watched Amélie at The Watermill Theatre in Newbury, which is absolutely tiny. (Picture below) It seats about 200 people and is in the middle of no where. It was a hour’s walk from Newbury Station, but he scenery was quite nice. We got two seats in the front and they were cheap (about £26) because there was a pole, but it was so skinny it didnt block anything.

• Because it was in the middle of nowhere, the surrounding area was beautiful and nothing like a traditional theatre. There was a nearby stream and everyone was sitting on on these iron park benches and just enjoying the view.

• The theatre and stage is tiny. So tiny it makes the theatre that I work at which only seats 50 people look like Carnegie Hall.

• The cast : Audrey Brisson as Amélie, Chris Jared as Nino, Johnson Willis as Collignon/Dufayel, Kate Robson Stuart as Suzanne, Sioned Saunders as Gina, Faoileann Cunningham as Georgette/Sylvia, Oliver Grant as Lucien/Mysterious Man, Caolan McCarthy as Hippolito/Elton John, Samuel Morgan-Grahame as Joseph/Fluffy, Josh Sneesby as Blind Beggar/Gnome, Jez Unwim as Raphael/Bretodeau

• Here’s the set:

ACT ONE

• The show starts with the subway light effect and a transit announcement in French.

• I really hope the UK cast records an album and that it includes the “Everybody’s Connected” song because I love it.

• All the actors spoke with a French accent and used French words when saying hello, goodbye, thank you and etc.

• So instead of having a child actor play young Amélie they used a puppet controlled by the guy who plays Lucien while Audrey provides the voice. And holy shit the puppet was terrifying. It had Dora the explorer choppy hair and had this wooden sheen. It also had the ability to blink which added to the creepiness factor.

• Because of the limited space the actors played their own instruments, ocasionally switching off with someone else when they were in the scene.

• The photo booth doubles as a door frame, the background of the sex shop, and a confessional booth in Notre Dame. The large sign that says “Photo Booth” has a light inside that turns on and which makes the inside of the booth visible from the outside and it looked super cool.

• Instead of it being a tourist from Brussels being on top of Notre Dame, they go back to a tourist from Quebec like in the film. The actor stood on top of the photo booth Instead of jumping, the tourist shoots himself and falls on to a crash mat, killing Amadine.

• Amélie describes her mother’s death using the word “squish’

• As they transition scenes, they straight up drag Amadine’s body off stage and it is hilarious.

• The garden gnome is used as an urn for Amadine’s ashes. Like they literally pour her ashes from the urn into the gnome.

• “Times Are Hard For Dreamers” was moved from the first act to the second act and is after “No Place like Gnome”

• I really want “Going Around Circles” to be in the album and I hate that it isn’t cause it’s a bop.

• Hippolito and Joseph smoke while in The Two Windmills, giving it a more Paris vibe

• A bit off topic, but I went to the Two Windmills cafe in France. The food is so good. If you’re a fan of the movie, I definitely reccomend you visit! (Some photos included below.)

• The guy who flirts with Amélie in the cafe leaves his number on a receipt. As she cleans up his table, she stuffs the receipt into her mouth.

• After, Suzanne invites Amélie to go our for drinks with her, Gina, and Georgette, but Amélie refuses.

• The two pianos on stage convert into Georgette’s tobacco counter and the market where Collignon and Lucien work.

• The clock at the top doubles as Amélie’s apartment. The face of the clock slides open into two doors. There aren’t actually any stairs so to get up there, a pulley with a lampshade is dropped down and Audrey just grabs onto it and swings into the apartment. I kept getting nervous every time she went up because the pulley moved so fast, even though it says in her bio that she grew up doing several Cirque du Soleil shows.

• Speaking of Audrey Brisson, SHE IS SO TINY AND I LOVE HER. Like I’m a pretty short person and she was shorter than me.

• Dufayel has the camera to see the outside world like he did in the film.

• One thing they added was at the beginning if each scene they stated the date, time and occasionally the weather, humidity and etc which is a callback to the film. The whole story of Amélie (by which I mean the events that happen within the show) takes course over three months.

• Chris Jared, who played Nino was HOT, in my opinion at least. The headshots were in black and white in the program, so I didn’t know he was older until I saw a few grey hairs, but he was still super hot in a DILF kinda way.

• They make it clear that Collignon hates figs which is why he gets annoyed when Lucien sings “Three Figs”. He’s so disgusted by figs that he vomits in his hat before putting it back on.

• When Amélie starts her quest to do good deeds, she calls Suzanne and asks for a day off. Suzanne agrees and asks slyly, “What’s his name?” Amélie replies with, “Dominique Bredoteau.”

• They included the scene where Amélie goes door to door looking for Bredoteau, another callback to the film.

• Due to the inaccessibility of the second floor besides the lampshade pulley, if a character needed to stand out, they would climb and stand on top of the photo booth. Amélie stood on it in “Tour de France” and Nino stands on it during “When the Booth Goes Bright”

• When Amélie calls Bretodeau, the phone is held by an ensemble member who makes the ringing noise. When he picks it up, the light in the photo booth turns on, revealing Amélie wearing a scarf around her head and a pair of sunglasses as she speaks to him.

• Before “Goodbye Amélie”, as the report of Princess Diana turns into one of her fantasies, Amélie reaches into the TV and puts on a sparkling tiara as Elton John enters.

• She stands on top of the two pianos placed back to back as they serenade her. At the very end of the sing, she lies down across them with her arms crossed and her tiara on her chest as she winks at the audience.

• There’s actually an intermission.

ACT TWO

• It starts with everyone on the subway. Amélie and Nino are on the opposite end of the train car and they sing a lovely duet. I don’t remember the exact lyrics, but there was metaphor of being lost at sea hinting at “Halfway”. I love the song and I need it in a cast album.

• At the end of the song Nino, stands in front of the audience as if exiting a subway car and Amélie sees him, but she immediately sinks into her seat so that he doesn’t see her.

• Nino leaves his photo album on top of the photo booth when he goes to catch his last train. Audrey Brisson is so small that even on her tip toes she couldn’t reach the top of the booth, so she climbed the door frame of the booth to reach the album.

• During intermission, the grocery stall is replaced with a display case full of different sizes and colors of dildos fo the sex shop scene.

• In the scene where Nino laments the loss of his photo album, (“years of his best work” as he calls it) his coworker is polishing a large black dildo with a cloth.

• Audrey plays the piano as she sings “Halfway” and its absolutely beautiful, so much so that I had tears in my eyes and I got a tattoo inspired by the song in Amsterdam.

• What isn’t beautiful is the return of the Young Amélie puppet during “Halfway” who is visible through grown-up Amélie’s clock apartment.

• She calls Nino from her seat on the piano bench while he’s standing behind the piano, which I thought was brilliant staging. It shows how strong their connection was, but despite that, there was still an obstacle preventing them from meeting each other which was Amélie’s reluctance to reach out to him.

• She leaves him with the riddle of solving Xeno’s paradox along with a photo strip of her dressed in a Zorro costume, which is another callback to the film.

• They also narrate Amélie forging a letter from Gina’s late husband. She does so by taking some of the letters he wrote her before Amélie returning the box of letters to Gina.

• Collignon comes into the cafe, complaining about Lucien. Seeing a chance to get back at him, Amélie serves him a fig tart. As Collignon becomes sick, three people wearing nightmare fig costumes bust out of the photo booth and haunt him. The lights around him and the cafe go dark and turn nightmarish meanwhile Amélie is brightly lit in the downstage left corner by the cigarette counter, as she leisurely unwraps a mint and pops it into her mouth. Collignon is shaken out of his fig nightmare when Lucien enters the café to grab his attention. Collignon admits as a young man he wanted to be a doctor or a lawyer, but his mother wanted him to be a grocer and so he became one despite having no love for it. The reason he is so mean to Lucien is because he sees how much care and love Lucien takes when handling the produce that it makes him bitter. He apologizes to Lucien. Lucien replies he has no idea what he’s talking about and offers to close up the shop for Collignon, who agrees and says that Lucien is a good boy. I love this addition as it doesn’t sweep Lucien and Collignon’s plotline under the rug like the Broadway production does. It’s addressed and resolved before the end of the show.

• After the fig-induced nightmare sequence, Raphael rushes in to the cafe in distress. Instead of going into “No Place Like Gnome” they pause the scene in the cafe.

• They narrate that 275 km away Nino posts flyers of Amelié in the Zorro costume around the city and they move into “Thin Air” instead. Nino comes in from the side of the clock and stands on top of the photo booth. Again because of the limited space, the posters are just stuck around the metal framing of the clock.

• They return back to the café after “Thin Air”. After “No Place Like Gnome” as Amélie spray paints Hippolito’s quote below the clock, she notices the posters and panics ripping one off, but leaves the rest hanging. A took a picture of the set at the end of the show.

• Amelié sends another photo strip to Nino writing, “It has come to my attention that you are looking for me. This Friday. 5pm. Montmartre Carousel. Bring five francs.”

• Amelié wears the Zorro costume in “Blue Arrow Suite”. The ensemble acted as the carousel and had blue arrows on the back of their instruments or on them. For those playing smaller instruments, they wore blue gloves and pointed towards the next “arrow”. The top of the hill was the photo booth and Nino pulls a red stand of binoculars out of fucking nowhere.

• Joseph says Georgette looks lovely when she’s flushed. She replies she’s flushed because of her gluten intolerance.

• When Nino and Amelié are set to meet at the cafe, the airline hostess is one of the customers there and joins in signing “A Better Haircut”

• They cut out the line where Nino says he loves Amelié and doesnt even know her name in “A Better Haircut” and I’m honestly so glad they did that. It works so much better Instead it just goes, “But you know I think she understands me/ I don’t know why she would understand/She may not even feel the same/But I don’t even know her name” with the “She may not even feel the same” part being dragged out a bit more.

• Georgette gets Hippolito to write down Amelié’s address on a page in his notebook that he tips out and gives to him.

• As Amelié sits in her clock apartment, the photo booth is turned so the side that is the door faces the audience. Nino waits below in front of it as they sing “Stay”. As they sing, Amélie moves from her apartment to the top of the photo booth. Again I love the staging, the use of different levels shows both the emotional and physical distance separating them.

• At the end of “Stay”, Nino realizes she won’t be opening the door. He looks like he gets an idea and walks away as the booth is turned to show the photo booth side. Amelié collapses in on herself and cries. From his window, Dufayel tells Amelié there is nothing to fear and shows her his new painting: it’s Amelié drinking a glass of water, making her the girl with the glass.

• Instead of opening the door, Nino climbs through a “window” aka on top of the photo booth (at least that was my interpretation of it, it wasn’t very clear how he got in)

• They sing the “Halfway (Reprise)” and do the the famous kiss on the cheek, neck and eye. Honestly, the tension between them was insane and had whole audience dying with anticipation as we collectively held our breaths. Audrey Brisson and Chris Jared have such crazy good chemistry. When they finally kissed it was like a sigh of relief washed over the audience.

• As the ensemble kneel before Amelié and Nino, Raphael stands, stating that he finally goes on a trip with Suzanne by his side, who then stands up beside him and smiles at him.

• In “Where Do We Go From Here?” one of Nino’s line is changed instead of singing, “Will there be sweet things?” It goes “Will you be with me?” and Amélie’s reply sticks to the original lyric as she answers with, “I hope so.”

• After bows, the cast sing a finale song that combines “When the Booth Goes Bright” and “Times Are Hard for Dreamers”. I cannot stress enough how badly I want a cast album of this show.

In Summary

• The show has improved so much and fixes a lot of the issues the Broadway version had.

• Overall, the UK production stays more faithful to the movie, including lots of callbacks and scenes from the film itself as well as the overall atmosphere of the Paris.

• I. Need. A. Cast. Album. Of. The. UK. Production.

#amelie #amélie uk tour #amélie the musical #audrey brisson #musical theatre

38 notes · View notes