#blurb night one • . * .

[peachibunns]

sevika who much prefers using her fingers over her strap. it makes quickies easier, too. whenever the two of you are at the last drop and she notices your skirt is a little too short, your shirt is cut a little too low, or you're getting a little too close to someone, she can simply pull you aside and absolutely ruin you just to get it out of her system. and her fingers are just as effective in making you cum before long. she's so cocky about it too, my gods. just laughing into your mouth as she tangles her tongue with yours, separating just to look at your face— your eyebrows knitted, lips parted and swollen, eyes practically white. she'll let out a cocky grunt, kissing the tip of your nose teasingly as her thumb meets your clit and your legs tremble, giving you a quiet "that's it, baby," before cleaning you up and sending you on your way so she can go back to gambling, mind clear.

[cursedyuri]

smut! 18+ below, minors dni.

thinking about ellie accidentally sending you a video of her fingering herself.

the video preview is completely dark, so you have no clue what to expect when you click the play button. you assume it’s another one of her rants - lately she’s taken to sending you clips of herself complaining about her family, work, politics. she’s sent a few videos of her trying new foods while completely obliterated on an edible, too, which you’re kind of hoping for. her eyes look so pretty all droopy and red, and she has the cutest laugh when she’s high.

but oh, no. this is… nothing like that.

you’re lounging in bed, head propped up against a pillow, when you get the notification from ellie and click to your text thread. you hit play on the video, watching with a furrowed brow as the camera moves from darkness - the forest green fabric of ellie’s duvet, you realize - to reveal her room. and it’s a familiar sight; you’ve been there a hundred times. but that’s where the familiarity ends.

because this new camera angle shows ellie naked from the waist down.

she’s flushed, her cheeks tinged the faintest shade of pink. her chest rises and falls in a quick rhythm; the light catches on a smear of wetness on her inner thigh, and you realize with a flutter in your belly that she’d been going at it for a while before she’d pulled out the camera.

“okay, fuck,” ellie pants, her voice a bit tinny through the speakers of your cell phone. she lifts one muscled thigh to her bed, which she’s standing before - right in front of the camera. your mouth goes dry as your eyes flicker over her body: heather grey tank riding up her toned hips, the faintest sheen of sweat on her chest, her thigh flexing as she spreads herself in front of the camera.

“i got close beforehand so i wouldn’t… didn’t wanna be nervous,” she says, avoiding eye contact with her phone. “but i’m - wait. why the fuck am i talking? you’re not supposed to talk in these, are you?”

blood rushes into your cheeks, warming your face until you feel like your skin is about to burn off. you should probably stop watching, shouldn’t you? you should click out of the video, pretend you never opened it in the first place. this is clearly not for you to see.

but you can’t look away.

ellie reaches her hand between her legs, and your stomach warms with arousal. there’s a flutter between your legs that leaves you squeezing your thighs together, seeking pressure.

“oh god,” ellie mutters as her fingers play in her own pussy, the lewd, wet sounds echoing. she slips a finger inside of herself, then two, her eyes fluttering shut as a string of curses leaves her lips.

she starts to pump her fingers, the heel of her hand pressed to her clit, and your breath catches in your throat when she looks up at the camera. you know she’s not really looking at you this way, but you tense up regardless. the look in her eyes is sultry, lustful, hungry.

there’s a growing damp spot on your underwear.

ellie’s getting close; her brows are pinched together in concentration, and each of her moans is more ragged and high-pitched than the last. beneath the thin fabric of her tank, you see her abs tense with her impending orgasm. you bite your lip until you’re sure you taste blood.

she comes with a shuddering cry, bicep flexing as her hand stalls between her legs. strands of auburn hair, darkened with sweat, cling to her freckled forehead. she lowers her leg from the bed and stands upright again, still panting. she reaches for the camera and the video ends.

you’re still staring wide-eyed at your phone when a series of texts come through from ellie.

oh my god

please tell me you didn’t see that

holy fuck i’m an idiot

i’m so sorry

i did not mean to send that to you. holy shit i’m sorry

your chest tightens with sympathy - you can imagine how panicked ellie is on the other line, how utterly ruined her post-orgasm bliss must be.

you type out a quick response: it’s okay. give me a second to reply, alright?

finding a convenient place to prop up your phone, you hook your thumbs over your underwear and tug them off, leaning forward to press record on your phone.

read part two here!

[moonchildstyles]

bardot

y/n is an aspiring model, and harry just might be the person that could help her

wordcount: 12.5k+

this is a patreon exclusive, with every part after this one only available on my page!

—————

A chill touched the base of (Y/N)'s spine as she padded over the cracked tiles lining her kitchen floor. It was enough of a disturbance to cause a pinch in her brows, though she still couldn't manage to peel her eyes open more than a crack. If not for the fact that she had to run a couple of errands before her shift tonight, she wouldn't even be awake at the moment. 

Working through that fatigue, she rubbed her eyes as she reached for the box of Cheerios on the top of her fridge. Her movements were lethargic as she made her breakfast, taking her time as she attempted to wake up despite the late night she'd had, closing the restaurant. Before sitting down with her cereal, she made a point to draw open her curtains, allowing bright beams of sunlight to filter through her apartment, a tactic she opened would wake her up. 

Feeling the warmth on her skin, her tired eyes fluttering against the bright light, it was all something she was still getting used to. The California sun was still so novel to her compared to the weather she'd grown up with back home. Though she missed the multitude of sweaters she'd left behind at her parents' home, she would trade those knits to get this kind of sunlight any day. 

(Y/N) pulled in a deep breath, imagining the specks of sunlight bumbling through her lungs. It didn't feel so bad then to sit down with her breakfast, a selection of new, glossy magazines sitting in the middle of her coffee table—a gift from herself after getting through her shift the night before.

Spooning a bite to her mouth, she picked up the first magazine with VOGUE stamped across the top. The cover held a glimmering photograph of a woman draped in a brightly colored dress, her hair teased high, and the kind of makeup (Y/N) had attempted to achieve in her bathroom mirror—though it never turned out as clean. The headlines had printings about the best summer pieces to have to get that "California Style", along with spreads about the new "Paris Chic" and the best eye makeup for your eye color. 

This was her morning news. Everything she wanted to know was between the glossy pages, every photograph a part of her morning routine. Flicking through, (Y/N) admired the models printed on the pages, each of them exceptionally beautiful and holding a kind of poise she wondered also ran through their real lives. 

Did Jean Shrimpton always look that perfect? Was Donyale Luna even able to leave the house without someone stopping her for just a momentary look at her cheekbones? Did any of these women ever admire themselves on the page the way (Y/N) did?

Though she skimmed the articles as she went, she no doubt had eyes for the photos themselves. If she squinted hard enough, she could almost see herself instead of the leggy body on the page. 

After finishing off her cereal, she flipped the page just as she began to rise to tow her dishes to the sink, though the ad on page had her lagging for just a moment. 

Corseted into an hourglass shape, complete with a puffy bunny tail and a set of ears on her head, was a woman with blonde hair teased high holding a silver serving tray. Black stockings molded around her legs, showing off the curves like the smile on her lips. Beneath her was a bold black font, detailing the opening of a new club in Los Angeles. 

Playboy. 

(Y/N) was familiar with the branding and the general idea behind the company, but it wasn't something she gave more than a passing thought most of the time. It was never something that really appealed to her, piquing nothing more than her curiosity over how many models—well known and hidden, alike—had been able to feel that kind of confidence to be able to pose the way they did. While she'd never seen anything for herself, there was always the talk about the centerfolds of the magazines, and what exactly was sandwiched between the pages.

It was definitely a departure from the kinds of modeling she had pictured for herself when she made the move out to the west coast in the first place, but she wondered, while looking at the corseted woman, what it could feel like to be in that spot. Would the confidence come naturally? Would the perfect posture and the perfect smile come on instinct, or were those women directed and directed until they were what the men around her told her would sell? 

She couldn't be sure, the idea being too much for her to figure out since she hadn't even been on a set herself yet. She didn't know what it would be like to have a real photographer put their camera in her face normally, let alone with only the smallest amount of clothing on her body. 

Casting one more glance at the page, she rose from her spot on the couch to take her dishes to the sink. With the corseted woman out of sight and out of mind, (Y/N) was instead distracted by the calendar pinned to the wall beside her sink. Today's slot was marked with all of the day's errands as well as her shift time, though she was distracted by the following day.

There wasn't anything particularly special marking the space, but it would commemorate the six month anniversary of her official move to California. 

If she thought too hard about it, she would focus on the lack of auditions she'd been on after the move, the zero number of scouts that had seen her on the street and begged her to join their agency, the amount of times she wondered if she had actually made the right decision when she asked her parents to help her pack up and move across the country. 

Instead, she reminded herself of the same thing she always did when all of the change had become overwhelming: just because it hasn't happened for her yet, doesn't mean it never will. 

She was an optimist at heart, and she would continue to be optimistic about her future in this city. One day she would be plastered on a billboard, or showcasing a new Maybelline mascara with her eyes fluttering in a commercial. She could even find her way to Vogue someday. 

For all she knew, today could be the start of her big break.

—————

"Thank you for covering, Gabby!" 

As soon as (Y/N) stepped out into the makeshift break room in the alley behind the restaurant for her lunch break, the bubbly smile on her lips fell. Closing shifts always took the breath out of her, especially during the dinner rush on Friday nights like this. 

These thirty minutes away, hiding in the back alley at one of the small tables set up in lieu of a proper break room, was precious to her. Despite just how loud the restaurant was, the sound overspilling into the alley, the space was just removed enough to help her brain quiet down for the time being. As much as (Y/N) loved the way her body looked and the way her legs seemed to stretch on for miles when she slipped on high heels, there would never be anything that could rival the relieved feeling that came with slipping them off for even just a few minutes during this time away. 

Leaving her feet only loosely in her shoes, she didn't waste any more of her break time, pulling out her packed sandwich and the bottle of apple juice she brought for her dinner. She had tucked a small magazine into her purse, but the thought of adding anything extra to her head at the moment wasn't appealing. Instead, she listened to the overflow of conversation from the server's station just by the swinging door of the alley as if it were a program from her television set.

Just as usual, she heard some of her coworkers debating over if there were any familiar faces seated in the dining room for the night. It wasn't unusual for famous patrons to take a seat for dinner with them, though (Y/N) highly doubted Elizabeth Taylor was currently at the bar, but the debate of whether or not one of the waiters should approach her and ask if he could be in her next movie (or next husband) was enough to bring a smile to her face between her bites of dinner. 

By the time she emptied her bottle of apple juice and had her lunch reduced to a few crumbs, the server's station had been cleared out with the only noise of the kitchen filtering out to the alley and keeping her comfortable. Just as she moved to pack everything away, her ears perked at the sound of quick footsteps heading outside to join her. Peering over her shoulder, (Y/N) just caught the way Misty, one of the hostesses she was closer with, all but barreled out onto the pavement. 

It didn't take very long to spot the difference in Misty's demeanor with the way she didn't seem to notice (Y/N) was out there at all, instead immediately beginning to pace before the door with her heels clicking over the pavement. There must have been a conversation going on in her head with the way she flapped her hands before her like a talk show host, and the silent muttering of her lips. As far as (Y/N) knew, Misty's break wasn't scheduled for another hour, even. 

"Mist?" (Y/N) prodded in a gentle voice, "Is everything okay?" 

Stopping in her tracks with a stutter to her steps, Misty looked to her with wide brown eyes and a hand to her throat. "Oh my god, you scared me." 

"Sorry," (Y/N) offered with a cautious smile, "Are you okay? You seem really freaked." 

"Yeah," Misty said, though she was less than convincing with her response, "Did you see my sister came in?" 

(Y/N) nodded, looking up at her friend from where she sat at the wobbly wrought iron table. "Is she okay?" 

Misty's shaken demeanor shifted then as she rolled her eyes, heaving a big sigh. "She's fine," she started, irritated, "just stupid. We were supposed to go to this party tomorrow night in the hills, but she's bailing on me so she can meet up with her ex. They're going to 'work it out', apparently." 

"Wait, the one that cheated with your cousin?" (Y/N)'s brows furrowed, with her mouth dropping into a gape. It couldn't be that ex, right? 

"That's the one," Misty chirped, also less than impressed with her sister's choosing, "I know, she's being an idiot but not even my mom was able to talk her out of it. But, she was going to be my ride tomorrow, and go with me so I wasn't alone."

(Y/N)'s face fell when she heard how dejected Misty sounded. While she didn't know much about this party in "the hills", she was sure that hearing about her sister's reconciliation with a terrible ex—and that she would rather hang out with a cheater than Misty herself—was more than enough to get her down. 

"I'm sorry, Mist," (Y/N) said, her eyes softening with her lips falling into a pout, "It's not fair to leave you hanging like that." 

Settling some, Misty took the chair across from (Y/N) offering a small smile. "It's okay," she shrugged, "It's just frustrating. She knows this party is important to me, but she's going to go see some guy that cheated on her, instead." 

"That sucks," (Y/N) interjected, sure her friend wasn't looking for a solution more than she wanted to vent at the moment, "Is it a birthday party, or?" 

Misty shook her head, her long black hair wisping over her shoulder, "It's an industry party. One of my friend's has an older sister who works across the street from this office that has a bunch of these music people. Apparently there's a big party happening tomorrow night at some executive's house, and she was able to get me and my sister an invite, but now I don't know if I'm even going to be able to make it there." 

(Y/N)'s lips thinned, her eyes falling to the latticed surface of the table where she fiddled with the strap of her purse. An idea pinged through her head, though she was more than unsure of voicing it. 

She'd never been to an industry party before, but there was a first time for everything—especially if it meant she could help her friend. If she was lucky, there might be even a few people she could get to know, other models or someone that could help in her own dreams. 

"I—" she started, catching her tongue when she was unsure of her next words. Flicking her eyes up to Misty, where it was clear on her face just how hard she was thinking about whatever plan she could conjure for the next twenty-four hours, (Y/N) tried again. "Okay—um—stop me if I'm doing too much, but I... If you want, I could go with you? Just so you wouldn't be alone, and I could drive you up, and everything. I don't want you to miss this if you think you'll be able to meet someone that could help you with your singing, but don't feel like you have to take me. If you can't find anyone else, just know I'm willing." 

Feeling herself rambling, (Y/N) forced herself to zip her lips in favor of watching for Misty's reaction. 

"Wait, really?" Misty said, a bubbling lilt to her voice, "You'd drive and everything, even though it's kind of far away? You don't, like, work tomorrow or anything?" 

Her rapid fire questions did little to hide the light that sparkled in her eyes and the smile that crept on her lips. (Y/N) only shrugged, feeling herself light up. "I work tomorrow night, but I should be home with enough time to get ready as long as we don't have to be there too early." 

The giggling squeal that left Misty's lips had (Y/N) letting out her own laugh just before her friend reached for her hands across the table. "(Y/N)! Thank you so much—I would love to have you come with me! We're going to have so much fun, thank you!" 

(Y/N) felt herself perking up, matching Misty's energy as she squeezed her hands. "I'm so excited, thank you," she bubbled.

The dejection she came out with had melted away leaving room for her to be back to her bubbling, loud self that ran the front of the restaurant. "No, no, thank you! Really, there's going to be so many people there—important people—this could be really good for us. And now, we both get to go!" 

Despite feeling a little nervous, accepting an invite to a place she'd never been before along with the host being someone she had no real connection to, (Y/N) couldn't help but to feel a warmth in her stomach over the kind of luck she'd stumbled into tonight. While she was sure there was going to be majority of people from the music world in attendance—people who were going to be important to Misty and her dreams of having a singing career—there has to be at least a couple of people who knew someone who could help her encroach on her own modeling aspirations. 

The remainder of her lunch time (as well as Misty's impromptu break from her hostess duties) was spent ironing out the details of the next day. A to-do list came together in (Y/N)'s head, starting with raiding her closet as soon as she made it back to her apartment tonight, hoping she could find something in the back of the racks that might be suitable for the kind of party Misty was describing to her. She couldn't wait to force a map into Misty's hands to navigate them to the hills she kept mentioning.

"I heard there might be valet there, but I don't know if that's true or just something Angelica—" 

"(Y/N), do you know where Mist—Oh, there you are," Marcus, one of the waiters, said, popping his head out into the alley, "I know you took a fifteen, but we need your help." 

Misty deflated at the request of her presence, a pout itching to settle on her lips. "I'll be up in a second." 

"Okay. Molly's drowning right now, though, so be fast."

Before he could catch the roll of Misty's eyes, Marcus disappeared back into the bustling restaurant. 

Turning to (Y/N), Misty started for the door, standing from her spot across from her friend. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay? We'll figure out what we're wearing, and I'll tell you the exact address when I get the note back from my sister." 

"Okay," (Y/N) smiled, eyes following her friend as she approached the door, "Thank you again, Misty—I'm really excited." 

She paused in the doorway, one foot inside the restaurant with the other in the alley. "Me too. See you in there." 

With a wave, Misty slipped inside the restaurant leaving (Y/N) with a remaining five minutes alone. 

She quietly packed up with a smile on her face. By the time she slipped her feet back into her heels, the pain in her arches didn't feel so bad. 

For all she knew, tomorrow night could be the start of her big break.

—————

The waning summer sunlight reflected off the silver sequins decorating (Y/N)'s dress as she drove to Misty's. With the open back of the garment, the cool leather of the seat pressed into her back. The feeling had her hearkening back to the last few times she'd worn this dress, to a handful of auditions she went on before realizing that agencies didn't really want to see a cocktail dress on a potential employee at ten a.m. The patent white leather of her thigh high boots squeaked as she shifted in her spot, her eyes peering through the windshield at each passing street sign marking the unfamiliar neighbourhood. 

Coming to a slow stop at the curb, (Y/N) checked the map she had splayed on the passenger seat and the note with Misty's address half a dozen times, comparing it to the powder blue house she pulled up in front of. Hopefully, she'd made it to the right house. 

Putting the car in park, fluffing her hair one more time, (Y/N) stepped out onto the warm pavement. The sunset reflected pink across the silver of her dress, warming her skin as if she were under the flashes of dozens of cameras. 

Scaling the driveway to Misty's home, she had her eyes on the door, catching the way the knob spun before (Y/N) even made it to the porch. Misty waved to someone behind her, the length of her hair swishing at her waist as she spun around to face (Y/N) with a bright smile. A rich red dress hugged her figure, the halter top neckline framing the slide of her neck and the cut towards her cleavage. Her heels clicked with every step she took over the concrete towards (Y/N), glimmering makeup sparking on her eyelids. 

Misty forged ahead, pulling (Y/N) in for a giddy hug that had her wobbly in her boots. "Hi! How are you? Are you excited? You look so pretty!" 

(Y/N) laughed at the onslaught of questions, falling in line with Misty as she headed towards the car parked at the curb. "I'm good—excited! You look really pretty, too, thank you! I've never seen your hair down like this." 

To make a show of it, she flipped a hand through her hair with a smile on her lips. "Tonight could be the night, (Y/N)—had to pull out all the stops." 

Laughing, she followed after Misty as she started towards the car. Misty's confidence was contagious, enough to spread to (Y/N) as she settled in behind the wheel, sliding a pair of sunglasses on the line of her nose. 

As they drove towards the hills, a map splayed out in Misty's lap, they had the windows cranked down with the radio up. (Y/N) couldn't help but to sing along with the selection going through her speakers, ranging from the croons from The Zombies to belting tones from The Supremes. 

She was going to a party in the Hollywood Hills! A party where, if she's lucky enough, she could end up on the billboards they were driving past. Even if that didn't happen, she would still be fulfilling a part of her dream when she moved out here in the first place—getting to see places she'd only ever seen in movies or on the glossy pages of her magazines. 

"What do you think it's going to be like?" (Y/N) asked, shouting over the whipping wind and beats from James Brown. 

"Hm?" Misty hummed, looking back from where she had been gazing out the window, "The party?" 

"Yeah. You said there'll be lots of music kinds of people, right? Do you think we'll see anyone we know?" 

Misty shrugged, a beaming smile. "Maybe—hopefully! Angelica called me this morning and said there's supposed to be a lot of executives, so I don't know if we'll see any singers, but we'll meet the people who made the singers! How exciting is that?!" 

(Y/N), even through fleeting glances, could spot the excitement in Misty's gaze. While modeling (maybe even movies, if she was lucky enough) was (Y/N)'s dream, she was more than okay with being there for Misty as they rubbed elbows with the people that made possible all the music they were listening to now. 

In between giving directions, Misty happily chattered away about all of the different hopes she had for the soiree. Outside, the sun sunk low in the sky before disappearing by the time they entered the hills. The world around them changed from the lengths of highway to the beachy suburbs of the coast, all the way until the Hollywood Hills surrounded them. With the windows up and the radio ticked down just enough, both she and Misty left their attention to the gorgeous homes that now popped up around them like clean white roses. Everything was made of strategic, precise lines, creamy and bright against all of the greenery planted around them. Cars she'd only seen in movies were parked outside the garages, painted in pale colors with chrome accents that gleamed under the waning light. 

The sight reminded her of the Saturday morning episodes of the Jetsons she used to catch back at home as a girl. Seeing nothing more than the structures, she felt as if she were already meeting a handful of celebrities. 

After a final set of directions muttered off by Misty, (Y/N) turned onto a long stretching street. Before, while the houses were modern and clean, these were nothing short of extravagant. They were much further spaced out, gates planted before the driveways with plenty of greenery to help give even more privacy to whoever lived behind the walls. 

"It should be on the left, I think," Misty muttered, her own gaze glossed out as she took in the homes around them. 

(Y/N) silently nodded her head, pushing her sunglasses to sit on the top of her head. Peering to the left, she didn't have to peek at the numbers posted on the gates to know what home was where the party was being hosted. It was the only building with bright lights peeking through the greenery, reflecting through the darkening sky. While the rest of the street seemed to be luxuriating in quiet privacy, this one was beaconing those around them to come closer. 

"This one?" (Y/N) asked, slowing as they approached the open driveway. 

"This one," Misty smiled, giddy in her seat. 

Turning in, (Y/N) found the biggest mansion she could have imagined to be shrouded behind the palms and draping vines planted along the perimeter. It was just as pristine as the others they'd seen before, new and perfect, but on a scale she couldn't imagine knowing what to do with. A dome thatched in glimmering bronze bisected the mansion, a large window cut out on what had to be the third floor of the home, showcasing a crystalline chandelier for all to see. Creamy lines made out the rest of the structure, cookie-cutter windows giving glimpses into the spaces inside. More greenery made its way closer to the structure in the form of pruned hedges, climbing flower bushes, and postcard perfect palm trees. 

The rumor of there being valet at this soiree had turned out to be complete truth as (Y/N) drove further up the drive. Her hands grew clammy around the wheel. 

"What do I do?" she rushed out to Misty, taking her foot off the gas to buy herself time. 

"What do you mean? What?" Misty answered, knocked out of her own admiration of the space.

"The valet," (Y/N) said, slightly panicked, "Are they actually going to take the car?" 

Misty seemed to finally notice the man clad in a simple black outfit stationed at the front dome, bored as he peered at the slowly approaching car on the drive. "Oh. I don't know. Do you keep the car on or just give them the keys?" 

"I don't know," (Y/N) parroted, words bubbling off as she ran out of time the closer they drew to the dome, "I've never done this before!"

Before either of them had a chance to attempt to thread together a game plan, (Y/N) heavily stepped on the brake, stopping them at the front door. The valet made no move to greet them, standing at his station with a pleasant expression on his face as he waited. With clumsy movements, (Y/N) pulls her keys out of the ignition, and plucked her purse from beside her feet. Misty followed with the same amount of haste, both of them practically stumbling out of the car towards the waiting valet that looked on with surprise raising his brows. 

"Hi," (Y/N) greeted, just barely remembering the sunglasses pinning her hair back on her head. She snatched them off, tucking them into her purse. 

"Good evening, ladies," the valet responded, taking in their stumble, "How are you?" 

"We're alright, thank you," Misty piped up, peering around the valet to get a peek into the home behind him, "And yourself?" 

"I'm doing swell myself, thank you," he beamed, holding a hand out expectantly towards (Y/N), "How do you know the host?"

While he had a pleasant smile on his face as he took her keys, (Y/N) was sure he was well aware of how little they fit in within this space. She couldn't blame him for assuming there was a chance they weren't supposed to be here, if their stumbling and her less than trendy car was anything to go by.

"We work with him," Misty piped up, clearly preferring to bypass the roundabout way that she knew the host through three different people. 

"Oh, yeah?" he prodded, brows bouncing above his eyes, "At the office or the studio?" 

"The office," Misty clarified without a second thought. 

The valet took her answer with a slow nod, palming (Y/N)'s keys before asking for her name and bidding them a good night once they were on the list. With that, he left the double doors behind him unattended. Misty grabbed (Y/N)'s hand who stumbled into step beside her, her gaze shot over her shoulder to watch as the valet took in the vast difference between her car and the others he'd already attended to throughout the night. 

Pushing through the double doors, (Y/N)'s expectations for the inside of this mansion were blown out of the water. One of a kind art canvases were hung up on the walls, beautifully crafted vases and sculptures displayed through the halls, along with the extravagant chandelier hanging above their heads. This place felt straight out of a movie, perfect like a Normal Rockwell painting. 

The deeper Misty walked them through the space, she took in the overflow of guests spread throughout the home. She'd never seen so many different sitting rooms, with so many different people. In the main space just off from the foyer was cleared out, leaving space for a bar being professionally tended and room for plenty of young women to dance along to the records spinning on the player with drinks in hand. Too many older men were placed along the perimeter doing nothing more than watching them. 

"Um," Misty started, voice raised high enough to be heard over the different radios and gramophones playing, "I'm going to try to find my friend and her sister, and the host, but you don't have to come with me if you want to get a drink." 

(Y/N) didn't have to think before she steeled her grip on Misty's hand. There was no way Misty was going to be able to lose her that quickly. "No, I'll go with you." 

"Are you sure?" Misty asked, bouncing her brows above her eyes.

(Y/N) gave a nod, shooting her friend a look with a glance towards the men prowling around the young women. Misty seemed to catch her drift then, more than alright with (Y/N) tagging along. 

While Misty was on the lookout for familiar faces, (Y/N) was happily pulled along with her curious gaze spread out to every branching hallway and living area. While the room with the women dancing around was the life of the soiree, there were other areas that looked as if they were board meetings plucked right out of the city complete with men dressed in suits, lounging with cigars in smoky rooms. Trays with food were being passed about in the hands of staff dressed in similar all black outfits as the valet out front. 

She barely had a chance to settle her eyes on a single person or scene before something just as bright and bold called her attention away. Misty surged forward with their hands still clasped until they reached the glass door leading to the backyard. 

If she had thought the inside of the mansion was wild, not even the drunken bar room had anything on the backyard. 

With a shimmering pool setting the scene, there seemed to be a rule that only the prettiest of attendees were allowed in the grassy space. It only took a pair of steps out onto the patio for (Y/N) to feel like she had never actually seen Los Angeles before this moment. Her mouth was set agape as Misty dragged her along, heading towards a grouping of men (Y/N) barely glanced at when there was so much else around to steal attention. 

A bar was stationed outside as well, though it looked much less professional than what was inside. Whoever wanted a drink was free to grab whatever, including the whole bottle if they so choose, with no one to bat an eye. More than a few people floated about the pool, some fully clothed while others were covered with only the help of the refractions glowing through the water. Drunken conversations were held between those about the lip of the pool, some wobbling close to the edge though they only laughed when the stumbles occurred. 

Everything appeared entirely too glamorous to be real. The women's hair was too perfect, the men too picturesque. This was what shindigs in the Hills were like? 

Suddenly Misty's voice piped up, having taken the straight to the grouping of businessmen she had eyed as soon as they made it out the door. "Hi! Mr. Vitacoma?" 

Facing forward, (Y/N) watched as a tall man with broad shoulders turned around to face Misty, brows in a pinch. "That's me," he started, eyes visibly brightening when he took in who exactly it was that had approached him, "How can I help you?" 

Misty's bright voice became a mumble as she introduced herself, and thanked this man for hosting the party. A conversation started, Mr. Vitacoma asking how exactly they were connected and how she'd found herself at his soiree. From what she was collecting, this man was some kind of executive at a record label, tonight's party being a "just because" occasion, and of course, he was so happy to have such a beautiful woman like Misty in attendance. 

(Y/N) was vaguely aware of Misty's voice pattering on with confidence, though her attention was stitched elsewhere. The men around Mr. Vitacoma had gone quiet, impressed with Misty's gall to have approached their group in the first place. It was interesting to see these men as suits, the kind running the studios and labels instead of those in front of the cameras and microphones. 

One of them in particular had (Y/N) flicking her eyes away more than once, his face almost too pretty to look at for longer than a moment before needing a break. 

His bone structure was sharp, jawline cutting with high cheekbones, a layer of stubble creeping up his cheeks. From his profile, his nose was a perfect straight line; cinnamon colored freckles were dusted over the bridge, faint under the lowlight. His hair came in textured waves of dark brown, playing off of the bright green hue of his eyes. His white button up was undone, displaying the white undershirt pasted to his torso. Just the faintest peeks of different tattoos bled through the thin fabric, including the tips of a chest piece peeking over the neckline of his tank. A small peach colored, paisley printed silk scarf was hanging around his neck, untied through the wrinkles in the material made it clear it had been knotted earlier in the night. A pair of black pants were belted around his hips with a shimmering pinstripe running through the garment, playing off the ambient lighting through the backyard.

(Y/N) couldn't keep herself from following the line of his form. Broad shoulders and strong chest gave way to a tapered waist, each block of muscle visible through the cling of the top. 

By the time she dared to flit her eyes back up to his face, (Y/N) had to blink back her shock at finding the green lilypads of his eyes already trained right on her. A small smile touched at the corner of his mouth, amusement sparking across his graze. 

Feeling her skin heating, she was suddenly too aware of herself. She hadn't meant to glaze her eyes all over him, let alone be caught doing just that. Flicking her gaze away on instinct towards Misty still schmoozing over her executive, (Y/N) shuffled in her spot, patent leather of her boots squeaking. Her hands suddenly felt too empty, especially feeling his eyes still warming the side of her face. She didn't think before she had her hand reaching for her hair, searching for some kind of flyaway or anything out of place to play with, just before her fingers collided with her forgotten sunglasses. If there wasn't already enough embarrassment coursing through her system, the fact she had left her accessory messily holding her hair back could have been enough to have her melting on the spot. 

It wasn't bad enough she was caught ogling a stranger, she also had to have stray pieces of hair standing straight up on her head while she was at it. 

Fumbling around, she plucked the sunglasses from the top of her head and made to shove them into her purse. A breathy laugh sounded, so quiet she wouldn't have heard it over all the noise had she not been hyper aware of the man standing only feet away from her. 

Peeking up through the stray baby hairs falling in her face, (Y/N) saw the man with the peach scarf looking at her with an amused smile on his face, dimples in his cheeks with his green irises bright. He bounced his brows above his eyes when he caught her gaze, gesturing down to her stumbling hands and fingerprint laden glasses with a tip of his chin. 

(Y/N)'s blood burned under the apples of her cheeks. She could only sheepishly shrug, a shy smile on her lips in hopes of looking more nonchalant than she clearly was. 

Another small laugh plumed from him. Her shoulders relaxed some when she realized he wasn't making a joke of her, merely quietly teasing her over something only the two of them know about. A small inside joke was being threaded between them in the middle of the patio. 

Stepping away from the congregation, the man made a step towards (Y/N). Her heartbeat picked up in her chest. It would only take a few of his long strides to close to space between them. 

"This is (Y/N)," Misty chirped, tugging her forward and away from the stranger that had taken her attention. "My sister bailed, and (Y/N) stepped up to come with me tonight. I wouldn't be here if she didn't agree to come out here." 

A slight daze had (Y/N)'s attention split between the present and moments before. She gave a placid smile to Misty's executive, offering a hand out for him to shake. "Nice to meet you. Mr. Vitacoma, right?" 

He flashed (Y/N) a bright smile, offering his own greeting she barely paid attention to. Pleasantries were exchanged then, forcing her to play along as to not ruin this for Misty, though (Y/N)'s mind was decidedly stitched elsewhere. With every plastered smile and feigned attentive nod of her head, she could feel someone's—his—eyes on her. 

If it wasn't disrespectful, she would have already disengaged from Mr. Vitacoma and given her attention back to the man with the peach scarf. As much as she warmed under his gaze, still feeling a bit of that embarrassment after being caught so obviously ogling him, she was thrilled to have seen him attempting to approach her. 

She hoped she hadn't lost her chance to hear what kind of voice a man like that held, and what it may sound like wrapped around her name. 

Hearing the beginnings of Misty's laugh, (Y/N) immediately joined in, having missed completely what she was laughing at but playing along anyway. Taking advantage of the moment, she turned her head just enough in hopes of catching sight of the peach scarf man from around Misty's back. 

But, he was gone. Even with his height, she was unable to catch even a single swirl of his brown hair among the sea of the other executives congregating around them. 

Before she had much of a chance to mourn the chance that had come and gone to know anything about this man, a scream sounding from beside the pool had her turning around. Misty and Mr. Vitacoma barely registered the noise, only offering fleeting glances in that direction before she was back to her half-flirting, half-schmoozing. (Y/N)'s jaw dropped when she saw what exactly had screeched beside the pool.

A woman with voluminous blonde hair and a drunken smile on her face had stripped down, her dress and undergarments sitting in a pile on the grass, and was running straight towards the pool. Those around the pool with drinks in their hands cheered her on, encouraging her just before she took a leap and splashed straight into the water. As soon as she surfaced, makeup running with her hair deflated and pasted her face, another round of raucous cheers cracked through the backyard. 

Flitting her eyes around, (Y/N) expected to see others sharing her shock. Instead, she found people either not paying attention at all or smiling on as if this was nothing more than the scheduled entertainment for the night. While (Y/N) wouldn't consider herself a complete prude (she'd seen a few French films over the years, and they were certainly not for the pearl-clutchers back home), but she couldn't believe no one shied away at the sight of the woman's naked body. Was there a memo that Misty forgot to let her in on? 

Nonetheless, (Y/N) found herself unable to pull her eyes from the commotion that was beginning over by the pool. It was as if the woman's display had been a gun firing off, signaling the start of the real party now that the sun had dipped and only the most fun remained for the rest of the festivities. 

Those that had previously been lounging by the pool started up with their own soirees, some downing the rest of the drinks they had their hands before stripping and joining the woman in the pool, or plain watching on with heated looks on their faces. Even some men dared to strip down and join in, giving (Y/N) a sight she'd truly never seen before with her eyes going wide. Some of the couples she'd seen before had turned their attention to one another, lips and tongues meeting with reckless abandon. Blatant sexuality was put on show among the low lighting and the moon sparkling above their heads. Despite being in Los Angeles for a little over nine months, she'd never seen anyone behave this openly, acting as if there was no one else around other than those they wanted to see. 

The most jarring came in the form of a trio—two women and one man—squeezed together on a pool lounger. The man had his arms around both of the women, but had his head bent towards one, kissing her with gusto. The other woman, skin a sparkling bronze with a thick headband holding back her curly hair, caressed her manicured hands across the lines of the redhead's body. The man didn't leave his other companion without, it appeared, his own brawny hand sliding down the cuff of her shoulder until it was dangling over the swell of her breast before brushing his fingers over where the peek had been hidden behind her dress. (Y/N) could spot the curly haired woman whispering something to the kissing pair, something quiet enough just for the three of them to hear just before the redhead smiled into the kisses though the man refused to break the contact and dove harder into the redhead's mouth. The curly haired woman looked at them with hooded eyes, eye shadow shimmering under the moonlight, as she reached out and combed her fingers through waves of red hair, fisting the strands back and out of her friend's face with a stiff tug. A blush touched the redhead's cheeks.

They moved as if they were on film. The touches from the curly-haired woman moved harmoniously with each caress from the redhead over the man's muscled chest, as if perfected from a script. A director could have been sat feet away, camera trained in their direction with the way every ideal angle was shown off to the rest of the party. (Y/N) wouldn't have been surprised if this whole night was nothing more than a setup for some magazine, a photographer waiting for the perfect moment before jumping out with a camera and the perfect lighting. 

As soon as the curly-haired woman leaned across the man's chest and pressed a lingering kiss to the redhead's shoulder, a hoot sounded from one of the other onlookers in the backyard. It was then that (Y/N) remembered she wasn't the only one here, the only one watching. She had been seeing something like an editorial photoshoot with these people—a bit scandalous of a subject, but nonetheless boundary pushing—but the sound of a cheering comment had brought her back to the present to see this for what it was.

The artistic, pretty filter she had seen the moment in vanished, leaving what was gearing up to be much raunchier of a scene than she was sure any of her French films had shown. 

Whipping her head away when the strap of the redhead's dress was pulled down, (Y/N) turned to see Misty and Mr. Vitacoma conversing with no indication that either of them cared to know what was going on behind their backs. 

"Mist," (Y/N) murmured, feeling only a little bad to be interrupting, "I'm going to go get a drink inside, okay?" 

Misty gave her a nod with a small smile. "Okay, I'll come find you later." 

With that, (Y/N) gave Misty and her executive a parting nod before scurrying away to head back inside, her eyes staying on her feet and nowhere near the pool. 

It was with a sigh of relief that (Y/N) closed the door behind herself. While there was much more commotion and bodies surrounding her inside the mansion, it was decidedly less pressure than whatever it was going on out there. Though she was alone this time around, which wasn't something she thought about until a group of men in suits passed her by, a few offering appreciative glances in her direction. 

This place seemed much bigger without Misty at her side. 

Meandering through the throngs of people and the puddles of liquor on the floor, (Y/N) wasn't sure where she was going, only that the closer she was to the backyard, the more clinging the atmosphere seemed to be. There were plenty of people around her, some with clear influence that she was sure she should have been using this opportunity to get to know, just like Misty brought her here for, but she continued on with no clear destination in mind. 

She didn't feel comfortable inserting herself in the cigar room, not when the men had poured out whiskey and the smoke had turned into something heavier. More faces littered the halls, getting more and more packed the darker the night grew. Sticking close to the walls, (Y/N) couldn't help the owlish blinks that fluttered her lashes as she took in the raucous patrons of the party. She was well aware of the parties and the night clubs that livened up downtown LA, but she never figured something like that could fit between the walls of someone's home. 

Inadvertently, she found herself approaching the first room she had Misty had spotted, full of women her age dancing and having fun with a bartender slinging drinks faster than the records spinning. While she wasn't exactly comfortable, this room felt a lot easier to wade through as opposed to the faux board meeting going on in the other with all of the smoking men. 

Keeping company with the fridges of the room, (Y/N) had the lingering thought that maybe she wasn't cut out for this kind of industry. Whether it be modeling or becoming a movie star, she figured she should be able to make conversation with practical strangers instead of marinating in her own excitement all by herself. A real model—a confident star—would have found the spotlight without hesitation and made a group of friends and connections that would land her somewhere even more glamorous than this mansion in the Hills. 

Instead, (Y/N) was stationed somewhere between the record player and the suede couch pushed against the walls, tucked out of the way and listening into the conglomeration of all of these conversations. 

Out of seemingly nowhere, a woman with towering dark hair and a sleek black dress entered her field of vision. She wore a bright smile and eyes that were a bit glossy, red veins spidering over her sclera. 

"Are you friends with Misty?!" she shouted, maybe a bit too loud even with the record player and sound system so close. 

Taken aback, a whiff of heavy liquor radiating from this girl's breath, (Y/N) gave a small nod. "Yeah, we work together." 

"That is so fun! I work with her sister, Angelica! Where is she?" The girl stumbled some on her heels, reaching out for (Y/N)'s shoulder to keep herself steady. 

"Angelica is seeing a friend tonight, so she couldn't make it," (Y/N) started, stifling her laughter over this woman's sudden friendship with her, "And, Misty's outside talking to some record label guy." 

Her mouth fell open, dark lashes fluttering. "Come hang out with me and my friends! You shouldn't be alone at a party like this! Oh my god, and you need a drink!" Every sentence tumbling out of this woman's mouth broadened (Y/N)'s smile. Other than some rowdy patrons at the restaurant, she wasn't around many drunk people, especially none this excitable. A gasp fell from her lips, stopping herself in her teetering heels with her hand clutched around (Y/N)'s shoulder. "Wait, what's your name?" 

"I'm (Y/N)," she smiled, "What's your name?" 

"Marguerite! Now, do you want to take shots or do you want an actual drink?" 

(Y/N) followed after Marguerite with a bubbling smile. She hoped she would be able to find her spotlight now. 

—————

Twirling in her boots, (Y/N) tossed her head back with her eyes closed. She could vaguely feel the condensation from the drink in her hand, glass slick in her hand. By the time she opened her eyes, dropping back into the moment with the group of women that had adopted her for the night, she couldn't figure out if the room was spinning because of her wiring or if it was her drinking. 

From working at the restaurant, and knowing enough bartenders through her journey of becoming known, she knew most bartenders tended to water drinks down to keep people coming for more and giving some hefty tips, but it didn't seem this man had received that memo. These cocktails were heavy, full of sour heat as soon as it touched her tongue before being doused out by the collection of juices and citrus mixed throughout. Initially, she had turned down taking shots with Marg and her friends, but she figured she could have just done that and made it to the same state she was currently in. 

But, that didn't matter. Anything from a couple of hours ago, no longer mattered. What mattered now was how each song she heard was now her favorite, every cocktail she tried was the best she'd ever had, and these girls were undoubtedly the best friends she'd ever had. (Y/N) was almost certain she'd never been this drunk before. 

A night of firsts, she figured; first networking opportunity she'd ever gone to, and the first time she'd been drunk enough that her heart and the record player in the corner were made of the same rhythms. 

She'd have to find her spotlight another time, it appeared. 

Suddenly, the weight of someone's hand settled on the small of her back. Seeing her friends—albeit a bit blurry—in front of her, she couldn't imagine who exactly would be comfortable enough to place their hands on her. 

Whirling around, the hem of her dress fluttering around her thighs, (Y/N) saw an unfamiliar face looking down at her. His hair was black like his suit, slicked back with enough product to make the strands appear wet. His eyes were just as dark and glassy, with the sclera full of red veins. 

It was a distant memory, from a version of herself that was sober and no longer here, (Y/N) remembered the men that had strategically placed themselves about the room in order to gain the perfect vantage point to watch the women drinking and socializing as if they were a show on the television set. None of them had been so bold to approach anyone yet, but it only took a quick glance towards Marg and the others to see this must have been a team effort, everyone a touch distracted by these unfamiliar men. 

"Hi, sweet thing," this man murmured, dipping his head unnecessarily close to her ear, "Having fun?" 

"Um—" 

"(Y/N)?" 

Snapping away from this man, (Y/N) clutched her drink. A breath of relief touched her lungs when she saw it was Misty who had called to her. She looked just as pristine as when they had arrived, dress still clinging to her form, hair perfectly straight without a strand out of place. (Y/N) doubted her lipstick was anywhere near as perfect as Misty's still was. 

"Mist! You're back!" (Y/N) cheered, grateful to be dismissing the man in favor of wrapping Misty in an enthusiastic hug. "Are you a singer now?!" 

Misty shot her a bubbling smile, the corners twitching as if she was trying not to be as happy as she currently felt. "I might be," she muttered, sheepish, "I have a meeting—a real one—with Mr. Vitacoma tomorrow morning. I need to get home so I can sleep at least a little before I head to the office." 

(Y/N) blinked, arms going limp around Misty. "Now?" 

"Yeah," Misty nodded, mind obviously elsewhere, "Do you have your stuff?" 

"Um," (Y/N) prattled, suddenly aware of her bag hanging from her elbow, "Yeah, but... I don't know, Mist. I'm kind of really drunk, I think." 

Misty seemed to suddenly take note of her friend's state and the cold drink in her hand. "Wait. How many drinks have you had?" 

"Three, I think," (Y/N) started, unwittingly beginning to sway to the new song that had started playing through the space, "But they're really strong." 

Fitting her bottom lip between her teeth, Misty's face twisted into worry. "You don't think you can drive, right now? It's almost two." 

Opening her mouth, (Y/N) felt like a guppy when she stood there and no words came. While she was far from sober, she was definitely beginning to feel the gravity of what Misty needed from her. She had a terribly exciting meeting set up for tomorrow morning, a real sit down with Mr. Vitacoma that would make her one of the voices etched into a vinyl. Misty had no idea how to drive, so (Y/N) needed to get her home before the sun started on the horizon. 

"I—um—hold on," she said, dropping her drink to sit on a random surface, "I think I need some air, and after that I can drive us home. Do you know if there's any food around?" 

Misty, working on one problem at a time, clutched (Y/N)'s hand and started towards the backyard. It was a deja vu moment, (Y/N) absently wondering what the grassy area had devolved into through the hours she had been inside. 

"Get some air, and I'll try to find some bread or something," Misty thought out loud, pushing open the glass door with their shoes clicking over the cement patio. 

The world spun a bit too fast for (Y/N) to catch anything going on around the pool, allowing her to simply follow after Misty as best she could in the boots that suddenly felt less than stable now that she wasn't dancing. Like a wobbly shadow, (Y/N) stayed close to Misty as she rounded to the side of the house, out of the way of the distant splashing and cheering from the pool. 

"Are you okay to stay right here?" Misty asked, stopping (Y/N) on a soft patch of grass between the main home and shed field with whatever it took to maintain lawns of this size. From here, she could spot the height of the trees that had welcomed them when they made it here hours earlier. 

(Y/N) nodded her head, sinking to sit down on the cool grass. "Where are you going?" 

Misty looked at her with wide eyes, bottom lip being chewed between her teeth. "To get you something to eat. And, water, probably." 

"Oh yeah," (Y/N) bubbled, a plume of laughter falling from her lips, "I'll be okay, I think." 

Her friend hesitated for a moment, steps starting and stopping with one more look at (Y/N) in the safety of the secluded space before starting off for the house. Left by herself with her bare legs laid in the cool blades of grass and the sky clear above her, (Y/N) took in deep breaths. 

Without smoke and thick humidity clogging the air, she was allowed a reprieve. Sitting here, she didn't feel all that drunk, but she doubted she would feel that stable if she made a move to stand up. Hopefully, whatever Misty found inside would help her get back on track, make it so she could have Misty home before the night had ended. 

Pulling her knees to her chest, (Y/N) tried to concentrate. She wanted her mind to slow, her gaze to even, and her body to feel like her own again. She couldn't drive like this, she knew, but Misty was relying on her. (Y/N) needed to figure out how to get this alcohol out of her system in record time. 

It was a frustrating goal, one she knew was going to be impossible to achieve when she couldn't get her gaze to focus on a miniscule chip in the white paint of the shed before her. Her gaze moved like the liquor that had sloshed in her glass inside. 

Was she going to have to drive like this? Would they even make it back if she did that? 

She hadn't realized her eyes had grown wet, tears puddling in her waterline until her sight ws that much more unreliable. She was frustrated and nervous, pressure coming from the fact that without a miracle, she was going to have to make sense of wavy lines while driving her friend home to prepare for the meeting of a lifetime. 

(She wasn't a perfect driver, anyway. She doubted she'd be much better when she wasn't one hundred percent sober). 

"Hey, are y'alright?" 

Whipping her head up, (Y/N) caught only a glimpse of the new guest of her spot before wincing. Moving the fast wasn't a good idea if she was working on getting her vision to quit swimming. 

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine," she stuttered, cracking her eyes open just enough to find the vague lines of who was standing before her, "I'm drunk." 

A breathy laugh filled the air. One (Y/N) knew—had been hyper aware of just hours ago. 

Blinking her eyes open, her vision having settled, she saw the man with the peach scarf. Right in front of her with the pretty green of his eyes trained on her, moonlight seeping through the swirls of his hair. 

He was British. Interesting. 

"Do y'want something to drink? It might be a good idea to eat something, too." The sharp planes of his face softened out, rounding with dimples in his cheeks and a kind smile curving his lips. 

"My friend, she's already grabbing so-something for me," she hiccuped, "You met her kind of; she was talking to your friend." 

Crouching to sit at her level, the man nodded his head. "She's something," he laughed, "Not many people come up to John like that. She has a meeting with him in the morning, right?" 

(Y/N) nodded her head, squinting when her vision when spiraling once more. "Yeah, so I need to drive her home, but I think I'm still drunk. She's getting me some water, and then we have to go." 

This man's reaction came in the form of a pinch settling between his brows, lips thinning. "She doesn't want to drive?" 

"She doesn't know how," (Y/N) clarified.

He didn't seem to like this extra information much more. His tone was gentle when he spoke again, everything softened in this accent she'd only ever heard on television. "I don't know if 's a good idea for y'to be driving tonight. Maybe, we can go inside and see if there's anywhere y'can sleep for the night." 

Reaching a broad hand out for her to take, he looked at her with encouraging eyes. (Y/N) shook her head. "I can't. She has that meeting in the morning and I have work tomorrow, we-we can't stay. I just need some water, and then I'll be okay." 

A heaved sigh fell from his lungs. "I don't think that's how it works, love." 

Before she could make heart eyes over the pet name he laid over her, (Y/N) saw a familiar form rounding behind her new friend. 

"(Y/N)? I've got your water. How are you feeling?" Stepping around the man with the peach scarf, Misty had water and what looked to be a glass of dry cereal in her hands. She gave a sidelong glance towards the man that was not there the last time she'd seen her friend. 

Lagging in response, (Y/N) blinked up at Misty. "I'm good—so much better! Let's go!" 

Just as she put on her performance with an attempt to get to her feet, her flimsy cover was blown as soon as she stumbled into Misty with her arms pinwheeling at her sides. With her hands full, Misty offered an arm towards (Y/N) to brace herself, but it was the man with the peach scarf that steadied her before she had a chance to fall flat on her face. He reached towards her, settling his palms on her shoulders with (Y/N) touching his chest over the thin material of his top. 

"(Y/N)!" Misty bubbled, eyes wide.

Blinking up at the man with her lashes fluttering around her uneven gaze, (Y/N) took in the sight of him with the moon acting as a halo behind his head. 

Was her mouth agape? Was she still touching him? Was she unbelievably drunk, or was the rest of the world a blur, except for him? 

"Are y'alright?" he murmured, concern dripping from his words. 

Back on earth, (Y/N) shook herself away from the man, their hands dropping to their sides though she swore she could still feel the creases of his palms and length of his fingers around her shoulders. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she insisted, turning her gaze towards Misty, "Sorry, just—hold on, I can take us home, just give me a second." 

Both Misty and the man gave her less than impressed looks. 

He was the first to move, looking towards Misty with a bounce to his brows. "Misty, right?" 

Despite (Y/N)'s clear favoring of him, Misty didn't knock the suspicious accusations from her eyes. "Yes. Why?" 

He shot her that dazzling smile, dimples and all. "I know y'have an appointment with John tomorrow morning, but she's not going to be well enough to drive tonight. It wouldn't be safe to head home before she's had a chance to sleep this off." 

Misty's shoulders dropped at the serious tone he served her. "But... I can't—We can't stay. I have to go home to get ready for that meeting, and she has to go to work." 

Pursing his lips, the man settled his hands on his hips as the gears in his head began to turn. "Where's home?" 

Even in her muddled head, (Y/N) could see the reluctance Misty held when she gave the general area they came from. 

He gave her a nod, lips still thinned. Peering through his lashes, he looked at Misty before offering a fleeting glance towards (Y/N). "I can take y'both home. I haven't had anything to drink tonight." 

Walls back up immediately, Misty gave an uncertain stare, brows pinched. She didn't have to say anything for man to start offering an alternative, (Y/N) letting out a plume of laughter. 

"Or, I can call a taxi? I can't guarantee anyone will be available, or how quick they'd make it out, but 'm more than happy to pay for it." Sincerity lit up his eyes. 

Misty didn't immediately have an answer, taking her turn to think over the direction the night had taken. The silence left (Y/N) a chance for the alcohol to wipe her own thoughts over the dilemma, her attention instead shifting to lay fully on the man that stood before her. 

Maybe it was the vodka shining in her eyes, but she swore something angelic began to shimmer from the edges of him. He really was so pretty, (Y/N) thought. Earlier hadn't just been the product of an excitable mind seeing a bunch of important people for the first time since her cross-country move, he really was gorgeous. 

Did he know that? Were enough people telling him that? Should she tell him? 

For the second time that night, she was caught staring at him. A twitching of a smile touched at the corner of his mouth, his eye dropping into a wink. 

She couldn't help herself, her own features brightening and molding into something giddy. She didn't need Misty to tell her what the best option was out of the two this man had presented, (Y/N) already had her favorite picked out. 

"You'd really t-take us home?" (Y/N) hiccuped through her smile, clasping her hands in front of her middle. 

"If that's what you'd prefer," he drawled, amusement dancing over his features as he took in her reaction. 

Before he could send a precursory glance towards Misty once more, (Y/N) piped up, "I prefer that! Please." 

A small plume of laughter fell from his lips at her outburst, Misty even taking a peek in her direction with a raised brow and half smile. 

"Please, Mist," (Y/N) pleaded, a bright smile on her face, "Isn't he so nice?"

Another small glance towards the man was given by Misty. "What's your name? I'm not getting in someone's car when I don't know their name." 

"'M Harry," he smiled, "And John is a good friend of mine, and he'd kill me if I messed up his schedule tomorrow by not getting you two home." 

"And, you're not crazy, right?" 

Another set of dimples touched his cheeks. "Not as far as I know." 

"Fine," Misty settled, "Thank you, Harry." 

"Thank you, Harry," (Y/N) parroted, a little too excitable.

Both Misty and Harry helped guide (Y/N)'s stumbling steps through the mansion, the water and cereal Misty grabbed for her being left behind as they made their way through the halls. More than once, she had the privilege of getting a touch from Harry's large hand on her arm or between her shoulder blades when her balance teetered.

He led them through the mansion and to the valet where a different attendant now stood at the station. Harry gave the man a small nod before taking them sharply away from the bank of cars that had been valeted out of the way, out of the way to a glossy forest green Cadillac. 

(Y/N) gaped in awe. She'd seen plenty of nice cars while living out here, but she'd never thought anyone actually drove them—not anyone real, like Harry, anyway. 

Harry made to stand by the passenger side, holding open the back door for them to slip inside. "This is yours?" she asked, "Like, you drive it and everything?" 

"I do, yeah. Like it?" 

"The color is really pretty," (Y/N) shared, holding back the detail that it reminded her of the flecks of darker hues in his eyes. 

"Thank you," he smiled.

Misty guided (Y/N) into the backseat then, following in to sit beside her a moment later. An amused look was on her friend's face. "You're a flirty drunk, huh?" 

"Am I?" (Y/N) bubbled. Was it terribly obvious she thought Harry was pretty?

"A little," Misty laughed just as Harry took his own spot behind the wheel. "But, it's alright. It's good for you—you don't do it enough." 

"Jus' straight home, right ladies?" 

"Yes, please." Misty reached ahead where a folded map was sitting on the bench of the passenger seat. "Do you want me to give directions?" 

Harry shrugged off the offer, "I think I've got it. Y'jus' keep an eye on her." 

Looking forward, into the rearview mirror, (Y/N) caught Harry's eyes on her, creases touching the corners as a smile spread over his lips. 

—————

"Bye, Mist. Call me tomorrow, please. I want to know how your meeting goes." 

"I will," Misty murmured, giving (Y/N) a tired hug before she started inching towards the door, "When you get home, eat something and have some water before you go to sleep. And take off your makeup." 

As much as (Y/N) wanted to stick to Misty's instructions, she knew herself well enough to know that those words had gone right through her. Nonetheless, she nodded her head. "Okay. Love you." 

"Love you, too." Pushing the door open, Misty took a glance over her shoulder towards Harry in the front seat, who was fiddling with the radio dials on the dashboard. "Thank you for driving us home, Harry. I'm happy you aren't crazy." 

"Me too," he smiled, turning to face her, "'M happy I could get y'home safely. Let me walk y'up." 

(Y/N) watched as Harry escorted her friend up to her front door, giving her a perfect view of all of the lines of his body. Being cramped up in his car almost made her forget the full length of his height. As if there wasn't enough she would be thinking about once she was at her apartment. 

Taking his seat back in the front seat once Misty was inside safely, Harry turned to look at (Y/N) over the bench seat. "Wanna sit up here with me? Or are y'comfortable back there?" 

She didn't even have to think before she was scrambling to make her new spot at his side. "I wanna sit with you." 

Although she'd never thought of herself as particularly funny, Harry seemed to think she was hilarious. Everything she said drew a laugh out of him. 

Nonetheless, she hopped out of the backseat and found her new spot up in the passenger side of the bench seat beside Harry. Turning the key in the ignition, he pulled away from the curb of Misty's house before shooting a quick glance towards (Y/N).

"Want to find some music for us? I can only listen to the same advertisements so many times, you know," Harry prompted, nodding to the radio with a dip of his chin. 

"The McDonald's one is the worst," (Y/N) bubbled, reaching over to play with the dials, "It's always on." 

Harry agreed with a hum, following the directions Misty had given before she left for the night to head towards (Y/N)'s apartment. "What kind of music do y'like?" 

"Anything fun," (Y/N) offered, shooting him a bright smile, "But, I really love The Zombies right now." 

Perking up at her words, Harry glanced at her as he came to a stop sign. "The Zombies? What's your favorite song?" 

(Y/N) couldn't help the bubbling of conversation that sprouted from her lips then, the radio dials left behind in favor of talking with Harry. He was the perfect listener, even while he was carefully getting her home, she didn't doubt he was listening in. More than once, she wasn't sure if he was only being kind given the fact she was bubbly with alcohol, but he encouraged her ramblings, feeding her his own opinions and asking her what she thought. (Y/N) could have stayed curled up in this space for much longer than the short ten minutes between her apartment and Misty's home. 

By the time he pulled up to her apartment building, (Y/N) almost wanted to pout. 

Only the hum of the engine sounded as he paused in his seat, pulling his wallet from the pocket of his trousers. Casualy, he thumbed through the bills he had ticked inside the leather, grabbing more than (Y/N) would make in tips even during a busy Friday night shift at the restaurant. He passed the wad off to her.

"Use this to take a taxi to get your car tomorrow," Harry instructed, giving her a soft smile, "I know y'didn't really plan on leaving it overnight, so I'd like to take care of the drive back for you." 

(Y/N) hesitated. "Are you sure? That's kind of a lot." 

He shrugged, "'S my fault y'left it. I don't mind." 

Gingerly, she pulled the cash out of his hand. "Are you going to be there tomorrow?" 

"Probably not," he smiled, another laugh from his lungs. 

Juxtaposing his amusement, the beginnings of a pout touched her lips. "So, I won't see you again." 

"Not tomorrow," he clarified, raising a brow, "But, maybe soon." 

Just like he did for Misty, Harry walked (Y/N) up to the door of her building, keeping her from stumbling up the stairs that led to the glass door. 

"You're alright to get up by yourself, or do y'want me to go with you?" 

As much as she would have liked to get him to spend a handful of minutes more with her, (Y/N) shook her head. He'd done a lot for her tonight already. "I'll be okay, but thank you. For everything tonight. You kind of saved the day for Misty. 

"'S easier this way," he smiled, "And much more fun than trying to kick people out of the house with John doing nothing to help." 

"Is he your best friend?" (Y/N) asked, stalling a bit despite her better judgment. 

"A little," Harry said, lifting his shoulders in a shrug, "But he definitely doesn't have as good of taste in music as y'do." 

Much like the first time she spotted him this evening, (Y/N) felt her skin warm at his words. "If you get a chance to listen to that album, let me know what you think." 

"I definitely will, love. But, you've got to get to bed first." 

"Right," she said, attempting to sober up with a nod, "Thank you again." 

"Of course, (Y/N). Goodnight." 

Harry waited until she was safely inside, where she went on to practically float up the stairs with the sound of his accent wrapped around her name echoing in her head. Now in the quiet of her apartment, among her things, the bubbling excitement she'd felt throughout the evening simmered down to a dreamy haze. 

She'd had one of the most fun nights she'd had since moving to the city, and it ended with her being taken care of by one of the most beautiful men she'd ever seen. After tugging off her boots, she pulled out the cash he'd given her, counting out the abundant amount of bills he'd passed off to her. Thumbing through them, she stopped when she reached the middle of the wad, where a thick white business card was tucked between. 

Separating the cash from the card, (Y/N) flipped it over to find black script printed over the paper. 

Harry Styles. 

She didn't even try to bite back the wide smile touching her lips.

—————

brigitte bardot, model, actress, and singer; a timeless icon of the 60's

ahhhhh! so happy to finally share this little part of bardot with you guys! once again this is a patreon exclusive with every part after this one only being available on my page! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any fun ideas please send them in!!!

[lnfours]

soft, praising, hot and bothered lando encouraging reader while she’s riding him 😵‍💫😵‍💫

ohhhh lord (i may or may not have had a few drinks at dinner so bear w me)

smut (18+ pls)

lando brainrot? lando brainrot.

all you could hear were his heavy breathing and his throaty moans. your hands resting against his chest, holding your weight as you rode him. your legs were burning, but it was the last thing on your mind as you listened to the noises escaping his mouth. bottom lip trapped between his teeth, his hands on your hips as he guided you up and down on his dick.

“fuck,” he let out, breathing heavily, “don’t stop. please don’t stop.”

you smiled, leaning down and pressing your lips against his. he kissed you back, your mouth eventually slipping from his and traveling down his neck. you kissed the skin underneath his ear, your tongue licking a stripe down the muscle.

“i’m so close,” he mumbled softly, “so close.”

you smiled, teeth nibbling against his earlobe, “come for me. c’mon, baby, give it to me.”

his eyes damn near rolled into the back of his head as he threw his head back. this is what heaven felt like.

[harrywavycurly]

Worth the Fight Part 2: City of Love

Masterlist: Here

CW: Mentions of pregnancy, language, bit of light arguing, brief details of the hook up in the bathroom, miscommunication and a touch of panic attack symptoms mentioned.

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden

A/N: I know it’s not Thursday but I just wanted to get this up because this week is a busy one for me! Hope yall enjoy it!!✨

Summary: Harry gets the confirmation he needs but wasn’t really expecting while you try to be as nice as possible to him, oh and Harry meets your cat! So enjoy getting a little look at the way your personalities work/clash together✨

“So uh-you’re actually pregnant.” Harry says with a heavy sigh as he watches you dig around in your purse for your car keys. You pause your search so you can look up at him just in time to see him run a hand over his face. “I just really thought maybe your tests were wrong? Like maybe you got a bad batch or something and-”

“A bad batch? Harry I took four different kinds of tests.”

“Well yeah but still I just don’t know how this happened?”

“Did your parents not have the talk with you about how babies are made? Surely you know how this happened.” Harry ignores your snippy remark as you resume your search for your keys as he presses the down button for the elevator.

The two of you just got done visiting with your doctor who confirmed you are in fact pregnant and suggested a well known obstetrician and gynecologist, Dr. Andrews that could take over and do the paternity test once you call and set up an initial appointment with his office and see exactly how far along you are. You weren’t shocked by the news, but Harry on the other hand sat there with his mouth hung open as if he didn’t expect it at all and you aren’t sure why considering you told him how many tests you took and how they all said pregnant in different ways. You know he had to be reminded of how the two of you met, seeing as he meets so many people and all but you just assumed that once he had his moment of clarity and remembered meeting you that the memory of the rest of the evening would also begin to not be as fuzzy for him but he’s proving that theory very wrong with every confused glance and silly question he tosses your way.

“I thought we were careful?” He questions once the elevator doors open up allowing the two of you to step inside, you let out a chuckle as he moves to stand next to you crossing his arms over his chest while he shoots you a glare. “Are you giggling? What’s so funny about this?” You just shake your head as you finally feel your keys on the bottom of your purse.

“Oh you-you’re being serious?” You ask as you look over at him with a raised brow making him nod his head in response. “I wasn’t aware that the pull out method was really even considered a form of being careful?” Harry’s eyes go wide as his arms fall to his sides and that’s how you figure out he really is struggling to put the pieces together of what exactly happened in that bathroom so you decide to give him just one more detail to help him understand how the two of you really ended up in this situation.

“And by the way in order for that method to work you actually have to pull out.” You add casually as you reach over and press the button for the lobby while Harry’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink as he looks down at the floor in an attempt to hide his embarrassment.

“So are you going to want to be at all the appointments?” You ask a few minutes later as the two of you enter the lobby of the medical building your doctor’s office is in. Harry looks around and brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck while you adjust the strap of your purse on your shoulder as you wait for him to answer.

“I don’t know? I just-this is a lot.” He finally replies a few moments later making you purse your lips and slowly nod your head before you turn and head for the front entrance of the building. Harry doesn’t know what to do but he knows the two of you have things to discuss so he just quickly rushes to catch up to you and when he finds you heading for a small beat up looking car that’s parked in a very obvious no parking zone his eyebrows pinch together while his hand reaches out to grab your elbow causing you to stop walking and look at him over your shoulder.

“Look I’ll tell you how my next appointment goes and when they can do the paternity test-”

“Is this your car?” Harry asks interrupting your little rant, you watch his eyes go from your face to the car directly behind you.

“Yes. She’s very reliable even though she looks a bit rough.” You say in your car’s defense as you take a step away from him making his hand fall from its hold on your elbow as he stares at you in almost disbelief as you take your car key and unlock the passenger side door and toss your purse inside before closing it so you can turn and face Harry with your arms loosely crossed over your chest.

“This can’t be safe for you to be driving around in.” You roll your eyes at his statement as he takes a step to the side so he can give your car a proper once over and when he sees a dent on the front bumper he raises an eyebrow while pointing at it. “You run into things a lot?” He asks as he looks over at you from where he’s now stood near the front of your car.

“Leave Melanie alone okay she’s nice and gets me where I need to go.” You snap at him as you turn and place a hand on top of your car so you can give it a little pat. “I’ve had her since I was seventeen so yeah she’s got a few bumps-”

“Melanie? You named your car? Have you really had this thing since you were seventeen?”

“Yes Melanie just fits her and yeah Harry I’ve had this thing since I was seventeen because most people keep their cars for a while since we can’t all have a driver to take us places or have a fancy collection of cars we don’t use.” Harry doesn’t say anything in response so after a few moments of silence you take that as a sign the conversation is over so you just turn to round the front of the car and get into the driver’s seat.

“You’re in a no parking zone you know that right?” Harry says breaking the silence just as you open your door, you look at the sign that’s posted on the sidewalk right above where you’re parked and just shrug making Harry let out a huff as he rolls his eyes.

“I was in a hurry.”

“You mean you were running late?”

“No I mean I was in a hurry.”

“Are you late to a lot of things? Is that something I should get used to?”

“I don’t know Harry do you want to get used to me?”

“What? That’s not-not what I meant I just want to know if you’re late a lot?”

“I wasn’t late today was I?”

“No but clearly you were worried about it since you were rushing enough to just park in a no parking zone-what if your car would’ve gotten towed? What would you have done?” While he’s speaking you take the time to look him over and that’s when you notice it, his hands are clenching and unclenching fists by his sides and his cheeks are slightly flushed and his eyes are a bit wide, he looks like he’s on the verge of a panic attack of some sort and him asking you these pointless questions is his attempt at holding it off.

You ignore his eyes that dart to various parts of your face and upper half of your body as if his mind can’t decide where it wants to focus as you close the driver’s side door with a bit of force making sure it stays closed and round the front of your car so you’re standing in front of him. You wonder for a moment as you stare at him if it’s your hormones already kicking in that makes you feel the need to make him feel better or if it’s just Harry who has this extremely annoying power to drive you to the brink of wanting to smack him a few time with your purse and leave him standing on the sidewalk alone and confused to all of a sudden switching it up to were you’re wanting to make sure he’s okay when he shows you any signs of distress. He watches your hands as they reach out and grab his and when you fill the gaps between his fingers with your own and give his hands a nice solid squeeze you watch his chest fall as he lets out a deep breath and his shoulders slump a bit. You look him in his eyes and give him a small smile while still giving his hands little reassuring squeezes.

“Would you like to come over? Have some tea?” Your question not only shocks Harry but you as well, not sure what came over you to even let the words slip out of your mouth, surely it’s just the hormones. Harry chews on his bottom lip for a moment before he looks down at his watch on his right wrist, checking the time before he looks back up at you.

“Uh sure yeah-yeah I can come over for a bit.” He answers with a nod. You just let go of his hands and reach over for the passenger side door handle so you can open it for him. Harry quickly looks at you with worried eyes and begins shaking his head and backing away from you while trying to reach into the front pocket of his jeans for his phone.

“Oh no I’ll just call my-”

“Harry.” You say with a sigh as you continue to hold the door open for him, he stops fumbling for his phone and stares at you making you roll your eyes as you gesture to the passenger seat with a tilt of your head.

“Just get in the car.” With that Harry just lets out a groan as he reluctantly takes a step towards the open door and bends down so he can pick up your purse off the seat. You bite back a laugh as you watch him have to duck down a bit to get into your car and he makes a show of buckling himself in nice and tightly once he’s sat in the seat. You give him a smile as he places your purse in his lap just as you close the door for him so you can go and get into the driver’s seat and take the two of you to your apartment.

“Do you have a cat?” You look at Harry over your shoulder from where you’re making yourself a cup of herbal tea in the kitchen and smile when you see him messing with a random stuffed mouse that somehow ended up on your table.

As if on queue Harry looks down as he feels something rub against his shin and you see a small smile tug at the corners of his lips when he sees your orange cat greeting him with a few purrs but it’s when you see him rub his head against Harry’s ankles that you feel obligated to warn him about something.

“Oh but watch out he might-” your words get cut off by a tiny squeal from Harry as he takes a step towards you with his eyes set in a glare aimed at the orange cat that’s decided to now head into the living room since Harry didn’t allow him to fully chomp down on his ankle like he wanted.

“He just bit me.” Harry states as he watches your cat jump onto your sofa and quickly flop down into a comfortable laying position. “He bit my ankle.” He explains while turning to now give you his full attention making you just shrug as you reach for the honey to add to your mug.

“Yeah well his name is Paris so he kinda has a thing for ankles.” Harry stares at the side of your face as you go about making your tea while explaining why your cat just bit his ankle and he rolls his eyes at how casual you are about it, but that’s something Harry is learning about you, you don’t seem to take a lot of things that seriously.

“What’s the city of love have to do with ankles?” He asks as you give the liquid in your mug a nice stir, he watches the way his question makes your brows pinch together and when you turn to look at him he sees your face looks almost concerned and he can’t imagine why considering the two of you are just talking about your cat.

“He’s named after Paris as in the one who killed Achilles.” When Harry just raises an eyebrow in response to your explanation you let out a long sigh as you pick up your mug. “Have you heard of Troy?”

“The Brad Pitt movie?” You have to fight off the urge to reach over and flick him in the ear at his answer but you just shake your head and walk past him and into your living room.

“No not the Brad Pitt movie I mean the actual story of Troy? With Achilles and Hector? The Trojan horse and all that?” Harry follows you into the living room and makes a mindful choice not to sit on the couch with the orange cat that just tried to make a meal out of his ankle, opting for the loveseat that’s placed across from the couch with a little coffee table in between the two pieces of furniture.

“Hector and the little horse thing are in the Brad Pitt movie though.” Harry explains as you get comfortable on the couch making Paris lift his head and look around to see who has come into the room and disturbed his peace.

“Little horse thing? Are you-you know what it’s not important.” You take a sip of your tea to help calm yourself down before placing it on the coffee table, Harry takes the opportunity to glance down and he quirks an eyebrow when he sees the name of the tea on the little tag hanging out of the mug.

“Paris shot Achilles in the ankle so that’s why I named him Paris…because he attacks the ankles of people he doesn’t like.” You smile as the orange cat stretches out next to you placing a paw on your thigh while Harry just lets out a scoff at the idea of your cat not liking him.

“You drink peppermint tea with honey? That’s criminal. And also there’s no way he doesn’t like me considering he just met me.” You laugh as you reach over and run your hand over Paris’s back making him purr while still keeping his eyes closed.

“Oh and it’s so hard to imagine someone not liking you after just meeting you?”

“Well yeah because he doesn’t know me so how can he not like me?”

“He knows enough to want to bite your ankle the first chance he got.”

“That’s because you’ve probably poisoned him against me.” You laugh and roll your eyes as Harry leans over and grabs your mug of tea off the table and brings it to his lips so he can taste it. “And that’s disgusting by the way.” He states with a face of disgust making you glare at him as you lean over and grab the mug from his hand before he can set it back down on the table.

“And I remember you being taller.” You mumble while Harry just glares at you from his spot on the loveseat. “What? You insulted my tea so I’m allowed to insult your-”

“I can’t really do anything about my height but you can and absolutely should fix the way you make tea because no one should be mixing honey with peppermint.” He argues as he watches you with a narrowed glare as you take a sip of your tea, you watch as he leans forward and rests his forearms on his knees and clasps his hands together.

“Is this how you always act when someone invites you into their home as a way of calming you down when you’re on the verge of a panic attack? You just insult them and-”

“I wasn’t having a panic attack.”

“You were maybe two minutes away from one and please stop interrupting me it’s so rude and isn’t your whole thing about treating people with-”

“How are you not panicking? You’re having a baby possibly my baby and you’re just sat there with your nasty tea and-”

“That’s it.” You say with a huff and Harry flinches slightly as you all but slam your mug down onto the table before standing up causing Paris to jolt awake at your sudden outburst. “You’ve insulted my car and my tea today and I was going to let it slide because that’s fine we can have differences in opinions on tea and cars but that’s on top of the fact you don’t even remember what happened between us that night and you think the story of Troy is just a Brad Pitt movie and I just-I think you should leave now.” Harry blinks up at you as your hands fall to your sides in what he almost thinks is a sign of defeat, as if you lost the internal battle you were having with yourself on trying to keep your cool with him and that makes his mouth droop a bit into a small frown.

“I remember plenty about what happened that night.” He counters as he slowly stands up while you grab your mug and turn towards the kitchen. Harry reaches for his phone in his front pocket so he can text his driver your address and a message to please come get him as soon as possible.

“If that were true then today wouldn’t have been such a shock for you.” You explain before you disappear from Harry’s sight, he can’t really put a finger on the exact feeling that comes over him as he stands there in your living room knowing that everything you said is true. He doesn’t remember exactly what went on between the two of you, at least not very clearly.

He knows that the two of you had an intimate moment in the bathroom because the evidence was shown to him this afternoon when the doctor handed him a piece of paper that told him you are truly pregnant and this is all really happening. Since then he hasn’t been able to think straight or focus on much of anything and if he’s being honest he really isn’t good in stressful situations in general, he tends to either overreact or just panic and this by far is one of the most stressful situations he’s ever found himself in and he knows he isn’t handling himself the way he should be. And your calm and relaxed demeanor just seems to make him even more unnerved because he doesn’t get how you’re not in the same panic riddled boat as him.

Harry runs a hand through his hair, giving a tug at his roots as he glances down to your couch, he catches Paris do a lengthy stretch before he sits up briefly just to look at Harry and decide that even he is fed up with him so he jumps off the couch and walks off into the kitchen. Now in that moment Harry knows he should do that as well, follow your cat’s lead and walk into your cramped kitchen so he can at least attempt to apologize for a few things but he doesn’t. Instead he just runs a knuckle under his nose as he sniffles a bit and when he feels his phone vibrate and sees a text letting him know his driver is on his way he lets out a heavy sigh. He takes one last look at your kitchen entryway, hoping that maybe you’ll come back and sit down on the couch and he thinks that he wouldn’t even mind if you didn’t say anything but just sat there not looking at him so that way he would at least be able to tell you goodbye and prove to you that he’s capable of being polite but the sound of the sink being turned on quickly wash away any traces of hope he might’ve had.

“This is so fucked.” He mumbles to himself as he walks towards your front door, he knows better than to leave the two of you like this, with certain things needing to be spoken and unkind words being the last ones said but he doesn’t have much of a choice since you won’t come out of the kitchen. So Harry opens your front door and walks out into the hallway making sure to close it as quietly as possible deciding that maybe this is for the best and at least he’s giving you exactly what you asked for, him leaving.

You watch the last bits of your tea go down the drain as the sound of your front door opening and then closing hits your ears, you take a few steps back from the sink so you can poke your head out into the living room and when you see it’s empty you just let out a sigh and go back to cleaning your mug. You didn’t want to end your afternoon like this, standing alone in your kitchen because your patience was worn too thin for the man who somehow managed to charm you into agreeing to a quickie in a bar bathroom over a month ago.

You almost don’t even know how that man and the one who was sat in your living room not even five minutes ago are the same person. The Harry you met at the bar was fun and flirty and even though he teased you throughout the night it was never with any real intention to hurt your feelings while this Harry can’t help but take every chance he can get to insult you or toss a jab your way about something. You don’t know why the corners of your mouth turn downwards at the idea of the night you two met never really meaning anything to him aside from being the night he got you pregnant. You don’t get to think about it for too much longer as Paris jumps onto the counter and makes his way over to sit next to the sink momentarily taking your mind off the curly haired boy.

“We can do this right? We’ll be fine won’t we?” You ask him while he sits there looking at you with his big green yellow-ish eyes that all of a sudden remind you a bit too much of the man who just left your apartment without even saying goodbye. “Next time bite him a bit harder okay?”

[creativewritersposts]

Can you do 🫦 for lando with e (how he supports)

so many ideas uff ✨ ADULTS ONLY!! 🔥

------------------------------------------------------------- LANDO NORRIS & HOW HE SUPPORTS (SMUT)

- you're very shy with asking for sexy time. Sometimes he can see your frustration until he grabs you and lays you down your bed, doing sinful things with you

- he knows you read spicy books, seeing you with biting lips and red cheeks; he lets you read some scenes and does the same positions with you

- you feel insecure? He lets you ride him to remind you of having the power (secretly he loves to lose control)

- he loves to grab your hair during sex, holding your hands, looking deep in your eyes

- you would never ask for switching locations; he'll support you with your dirty secrets and does the first step

- this man definitely knows you're thirsty when he's away for a longer time because of his work; leaving you dirty text messages until you start to call him

[babyjakes]

in the middle of the night. [blurb.]

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | somnophilia

pairing | dark!stepdad!pete brenner x reader

warnings | stepcest (stepdad!pete is sooo sleazy.) soft dark!pete. reader is giving innocent vibes. noncon + somnophilia (reader is asleep.) age gap (reader is college age, pete is 40+.) slight daddy kink (pete refers to himself as such.) nipple play. fingering. oral (f receiving.) forced orgasm. squirting.

word count | 913

an | this is my first time writing pete brenner so please be nice!! i hope you all enjoy <33 he's so sleeeazzy, i need him :'))) also i'm just making as many taylor references as i can at this point, im not sorry about it lol

Eyes trailing up your unmoving form, Pete forced himself to swallow down the low groan building in his throat. The pale moonlight pouring in your bedside window was just bright enough to give view to your perfect figure. Taking in the delicate features of your resting face, the older man swore he was laying over a sleeping angel.

He knew what he was doing would be considered wrong by most. But Pete never had too much trouble ignoring his decayed conscience. When the opportunity had presented itself, it was just too good to pass up. You were home from college for the weekend, and your mother was away on a business trip. That left you alone with plenty of time to bond with your affable new stepdad, who you had no idea was such a raging pervert beneath his friendly smile and easy-going temperament.

The man tried to keep his hands steady as he dared to pull aside the fluffy white blanket covering your unconscious frame. When he saw what you were wearing: a skimpy satin nightgown with lacey straps and little bows along the seams, Pete cursed your unfeigned innocence, "Shit, babydoll. You're not makin' this any easier for yourself."

You were a heavy sleeper; that much he knew. He had seen it firsthand a few times when you had dozed off during movie nights with your mom. He brought a careful hand up to test out the waters, gently pawing at your breast as it rose and fell with your elongated breaths. Receiving no reaction, Pete smiled. He grew a bit bolder, gently teasing his fingertips over the slight tent in the fabric where your unguarded nipple lay. The removal of the blanket was already causing a shift in your body heat, both of your tiny pebbles growing semi-hardened at the drop in temperature.

Your body twitched, your plump lips letting out a quiet sigh as his even hand moved in circles over the stiffening nub. "There. That's nice, isn't it, angel?" he hummed, his other hand venturing to the hem of your nightgown's skirt. As lightly as he could manage, he pushed the fabric up to bunch over your tummy, his eyes widening at the sight of your lacey white panties. "Oh sweetheart," he sighed, his cock throbbing in his boxers at the sight of your clothed mound, "you have no fuckin' idea what you're doing to me."

Your slumbering body was cooperative as he eased your legs apart, scooting himself up a bit as he lay flat on his stomach, his head easing up between your bare thighs. Seeing you shiver slightly, he rubbed a large hand over your legs to warm you up. "Don't worry, baby. Daddy'll take care of you. You just lie there and keep lookin' pretty." The man was practically drooling as he peeled the strip of fabric covering your precious petals away, pushing it carefully to the side. At the sight of your little cunt glistening with the smallest bit of wetness, Pete let out a muffled chuckle. "My naughty girl," he cooed, rolling your nipple a bit more forcefully now between his thumb and finger.

Your little body was rocking gently, pulses of pleasure coursing through your limbs despite your deep state of unconsciousness. Licking his lips, Pete brought both hands down to gently part your folds, exposing your leaky hole to his hungry eyes. "Oh princess," he murmured lovingly, gently prodding the tip of a finger against your itty bitty opening, "so tight down here, aren't you? Daddy'll have to be careful with you, huh baby? Be nice and gentle for my girl."

He dipped his head down, teasing the tip of his tongue in place of his finger. The taste of your sweet, slippery juices only worsened his raging hard-on. Dragging his tongue up to your tiny clit, he traced the little nub in gentle circles, his elbows coming to rest over your thighs as your hips began to buck softly. "That's it, angel. So sweet for me," his hum was slurred as he gently slipped his finger inside you before wrapping his lips around your twitching button.

He pumped his digit in and out at a steady pace, finding your tender ceiling with ease as he nursed your clit. He could feel your core warming beneath him, your poor legs starting to shake weakly as you were worked up to an orgasm in the midst of your unwavering sleep. Soft little whines began rising in your throat as you were brought to the edge by your sinful stepfather's efforts. Seeing your climax approaching, Pete pulled his lips away from your burning nub, replacing them with his thumb. He wanted to see your precious little face as you came; he wanted to watch as your orgasm was forced out of you.

Soon it was, and it hit you with more force than he was expecting. As your cunt contracted helplessly around his single finger, a wave of glistening juices sprayed out onto your printed sheets. The man's grin only widened as he carried you through your high, not slowing his ministrations until your shaking died down. Breaths staggering, you were somehow still fast asleep, pussy dripping shamelessly onto Pete's fingers and the bed below.

Exiting you slowly, he brought his drenched digit up to savor your juices as his greedy gaze remained locked on you. "Oh pretty girl," he murmured with a breathy laugh, "the fun I'm gonna have with you..."

[thisismeracing]

dom!mick + smut + vibrator if you’re still taking blurbs ;)

Vibrator | MS47

⸺ the one where Mick decides to try something new in bed. ✓ nsfw. dirty talk. graphic description of sex. p in v. no protection. use of toys. edging. +18!! Minors DNI!!!.

⁕ one word, a thousand stories blurb night (closed) ⁕ my masterlist and my taglist

The frantic snaps of Mick's body against Yn's pushing and pulling his cock from her wet entrance did not match the soft way in which he pressed the vibrator against her clit which only seemed to add to the sensations.

"Mick-" she whimpered and his lips tugged upwards in a smirk.

One of his hands was holding her wrists together on top of the cushions, while the other used the toy as he pleased. He was playing one of his favorite games: to edge Yn, make her twist and whimper, beg to finally cum. And he loved to do it because it seemed as if she came harder each time.

"I'm gonna turn the vibrations up," he threatened in a mutter, biting his lips to keep his smirk from showing.

"I-I'm sorry. Sir. I'm sorry, Sir," Yn corrected, trying to keep her hips from shying away from his ministrations.

"Good. Be a good girl, and I'll let you come," he whispered, slowing down his thrusts just when he felt her cunt squeeze his dick, almost ready to tip over the edge and cum.

She kept from complaining and crying by kissing and licking his neck, sinking her teeth in his skin. Mick couldn't help but snap his hip, and moan on her ear, dropping the vibrator and letting all his control go over the window.

"Please, sir," she begged, knowing she would get what she wanted in a matter of minutes.

"Pull my hair," he commanded, before finally releasing her wrists. "And, Liebling?" Mick's ocean eyes found her, a darker tone around his irises, "you only come when I tell you to, got it?"

He was giving, but oh wasn't he also taking.

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: I hope you guys like itttt!! Don't forget to reblog and leave me a comment if you liked this piece and want to read more stuff like this one *mwah*

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Firework Night.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

blurb masterlist is here!!

authors note - hi everyone. long time no see. 🙈 work has been cramping up all of my time so haven’t really had much time to write for all of you, but im back and hope that you all enjoy this little bit of fluff.

word count - 1.1k

in which, some school friends of harry’s is hosting a firework display round his house, and thought it would be nice to invite harry and the family, the wife is over the moon and the little one is awestruck.

“H, the fireworks are about to start, are the girls coming outside or not?”

Daniel, Harry’s friend from school, his kids were already seated on fold-up chairs on the lawn, bundled up in thick jackets and scarves, eyes turned eagerly to the sky. They looked wide-eyed and chattering with anticipation, the soft buzz of their excitement filling the crisp evening air.

Harry smiled at Dan and said, “I’ll go inside and see what’s keeping them.”

He slipped back into the warm glow of the house, his footsteps soft as he walked toward the living room.

There you were, seated comfortably on the sofa, laughing at something Daniel’s wife had just said. A half-full glass of red wine rested in your hand, and your almost two-year-old son sat happily on your lap, his chubby fingers fiddling with the necklace around your neck.

The moment was pure and peaceful, and Harry couldn’t help but pause for a second, watching you both.

At the sound of his footsteps, you glanced up, your face lighting up with a warm smile.

“Hey, honey,” you adressed softly.

Harry grinned, crossing the room to stand beside you.

“Y’know, the fireworks are about to start. The others are already outside waiting,” he said, giving you a playful look.

You chuckled, shifting your son slightly in your lap as he tugged on your necklace.

“Is that his polite way of saying we’re taking too long?” you teased.

Daniel’s wife laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, definitely. He’s been pacing around for ages, checking the time like he’s orchestrating the New Year’s Eve show or something.”

Harry chuckled, leaning down to gently tousle his son’s hair. “What do y’think, little man? Should we go outside and see some fireworks?”

Your son looked up, eyes wide, and gave a little squeal, clapping his hands. You laughed, setting your wine glass down and lifting him up as you stood.

“All right, seems like he’s on board!” you said with a grin, shifting him to your hip.

Harry reached out, brushing a hand over your shoulder. “Let’s not keep the crowd waiting, then.”

As the three of you headed toward the garden, Harry noticed the little pair of earmuffs sitting on the breakfast bar—the ones you’d brought to protect your son’s ears from the loud bangs of the fireworks. Pausing, he grabbed them and held them up, grinning as he crouched down to his son’s level.

“Hey, buddy, these are for you,” Harry said, gently slipping the earmuffs over your son’s tiny ears.

Immediately, he scrunched up his face and tried to pull them off, his little fingers gripping at the edges.

“Nooo,” he murmured, wiggling uncomfortably.

“Oh, come on, buddy,” Harry coaxed, holding his son’s hands gently to stop him from yanking them off. “They’re going to make everything a bit quieter so the big bangs don’t hurt your ears, yeah?”

Your son looked up at Harry, eyes curious but still doubtful, his lip jutting out in a small pout.

“Bang?” he repeated, his gaze darting between you and Harry.

You crouched down beside him, nodding with an encouraging smile. “Yes, there’ll be big fireworks going bang up in the sky. But these,” you tapped the earmuffs, “will keep your ears nice and safe.”

Harry grinned, nodding as he pointed up toward the darkening sky. “Exactly! Y’going to see all these amazing colors and lights, and with these on, you won’t have to hear all the loud noises. S’like magic glasses, but for your ears.”

Your son gave him a skeptical look but stopped pulling at the earmuffs, his curiosity about the fireworks slowly winning him over.

“Ye?” he murmured, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, giving him an enthusiastic nod. “Y’going to love it, mate. You’ll be just like the big kids, sitting out there waiting for the fireworks.”

Finally, your son relaxed, his fingers loosening their grip on the earmuffs as he gave a small, approving nod.

“Good boy,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead before lifting him back onto your hip.

As the three of you stepped outside, Dan spotted you and called out, “All set? Looks like someone’s ready to see some fireworks!”

Harry laughed, giving Dan a thumbs-up. “Oh, he’s all set now—.”

Dan chuckled, nodding toward his own kids who were still bouncing in their seats. “You’ve got the right idea. Wish I’d thought of that when these two were little. Last year, my youngest nearly jumped out of his chair with every bang!”

Your son’s gaze darted from Dan’s kids to the sky, a mix of awe and anticipation on his face as he nestled his head against your shoulder, clearly both excited and a bit unsure.

“Don’t worry, bud,” Harry whispered, patting his back. “I’ll be right here with ye. And remember, the big bangs are just part of the fun!”

Just then, a spark shot up into the sky, and a brilliant red firework burst overhead, filling the night with light.

Your son’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open as he watched, completely mesmerized.

The first firework soared into the sky with a faint whistle before bursting into a massive spray of red and gold, illuminating the entire garden in its warm, shimmering glow.

Trails of sparkling light cascaded downward, like glittering waterfalls suspended in the air. A hush fell over everyone as their eyes followed the brilliant tendrils spreading across the night sky.

The colors lingered just long enough to leave a trace on their retinas, and then slowly faded, leaving an excited anticipation for the next explosion of color and light.

“Wowww!” he whispered, eyes never leaving the sky.

Harry’s grin grew wider, and he looked over at you, sharing a quiet, joyful moment. You leaned your head against his shoulder, your son’s small, chubby hands holding onto you as his wide eyes took in the show.

In that moment, everything felt perfect—the simplicity of being together, surrounded by friends and family, all watching the sky light up.

Moments later, the sky was alive again—a sequence of emerald greens, deep purples, and electric blues crackled and popped, each firework larger and more vivid than the last.

One rocket spiraled upward and burst into a vast chrysanthemum of golden stars, which then rippled outward and slowly dissolved, like tiny, flickering embers.

The air was filled with the rich scent of smoke and gunpowder, and the distant thud of each firework sent a shiver through the crowd.

Each explosion left the sky momentarily empty, only for another to replace it, casting everyone's faces in brilliant, shifting hues that painted the night in wonder.

[sunsetkerr]

Hello. So glad your back. Sam and reader come out as dating at the World Cup and kristie starts saying and doing some really mean things to reader. Thank you.

Or something with sams family sticking up for the reader against kristie

MY GIRL | s.kerr

notes: I couldn't do it to my girl kristie, im so sorry!! I went with nikki instead. I know she doesn't play on the national roster, but for the sake of my wellbeing!! she does now!!!

EVERYONE SAW WHAT SHE SAID to you. The cameras picked it up straight away, and she wasn't exactly subtle, let's say. You knew that tensions would be high playing against her, she once slept in the same bed you did with the same woman; and now she doesn't.

You never picked Nikki for a spiteful person, you guess you were wrong. Sam saw how you turned around after she spoke to you, the way your expression shattered. She had to focus on the game, she knew she couldn't rush over to you right now, no matter how much she wanted to.

After the game, she refused to shake your hand- instead settling on shoulder checking you instead. The crowd erupted at her unsportsmanlike behaviour, the cameras purposefully watching your exchange like hawks.

The game was over now, Sam could do what she wanted. So she did.

She pulled Nikki in as they went to shake hands and held her close. You couldn't hear what Sam said, but you could see Nikki's face- and that was enough for you. A few of your teammates checked in on you, her bitterness ruining the joy of winning the game.

You left Sam with Nikki, knowing that she could handle herself and started to head back towards the rooms with some of the other girls. You weren't really in the mood to sign anything after your exchanges with Sam's ex.

"Y/N!" You heard. Stopping, you told Lani and Macca that they could go on ahead, and looked for the voice. "Don't worry about her darl" Sam's mum pulled you in over the railing of the family and friends section. "I'll be having some words with her," You couldn't help but notice the way that Roxy glared up at Nikki, who was now standing alone on the pitch, away from the teammates.

"Don't worry," You chuckled, spying sam shouting something towards Nikki before jogging off, "I think someone's already got it handled."

[aliteralsemicolon]

A bit of my version of Spencer just for you to make your day and because I know you love him 😌

Spencer stared at you from across the table, his eyes followed your hands as they once again rubbed over your tired eyes. It hurt him to see you push yourself and he was screaming on the inside for you to lay down for a bit and rest, but he know you were too stubborn and wouldn't listen.

Your head started to lull to the side and in a split second, Spencer was up and walked over to you, resting his hand on your shoulder.

"Sweetheart, you need to rest."

"Spencer I'm-"

"Don't you start, you are not fine and you are going to lie down wether you like it or not."

You'd never seen Spencer be so stern with you before and it honestly startled you. Usually you'd scoff and tell him to worry about himself, but something inside was gnawing at you to not talk back to him and the only action you managed to do was nodd.

Spencer offered a hand, which you took and guided you to the small couch in the corner of the room. You sat down and Spencer helped you take off your shoes, his fingers accidentally touching the palms of your feet, which caused you to squirm at the ticklish sensation and for Spencer to chuckle at it.

"Let this be a warning to you, if you don't rest up I'll continue to tickle your feet."

That was all you needed to curl up on the couch and escape off to dreamland, where Spencer wasn't torturing you with his tickles.

Moral of the story, get some sleep you dummy 💕

THIS IS WHAT I WAKE UP TO OH GOD IT’S LIKE AN EARLY BIRTHDAY PRESENT KETTLEPOT I LOVE YOU!!!

Ket this is so adorable, I'm gonna cry 😭 you're gonna catch me reading this over and over in class later and when that happens mind your business!!! I'm posting this with the normal fic tags, it can't go unnoticed, omfg ket I LOVE U, we are getting married like tomorrow!!!!!!!

Guys I'm telling u, @mandarinmoons is literally the friendliest and fucking sweetest person on this app and they write bangers like this all the fucking time and I just think it would be really really cool if we (you because I already am) would follow her. and spam her inbox with small love letters because we'd all be insane to not love her.

[little-pondhead]

After Danny is crowned Ghost King, Amity Park becomes detached from the mortal realm and is suspended between the two realms, much like Danny is. In an effort to combat this isolation from the rest of the world, Danny opens up his castle to the residents of Amity. (Not his Lair, just the castle he earned via conquest.)

Now the castle is more like a community center, and it’s constantly filled with both humans and ghosts coming and going. The Amity Parkers are already liminal, so visiting the Zone is actually healthy for them! The school takes the kids on regular field trips, ghost vs. human competitions get very heated, and overall everyone bonds over their shared freakiness and comes to terms with the fact they’ll never venture out into their world ever again.

But just because they’re detached from their world, doesn’t mean the residents of Amity can’t visit other worlds. :)

And it just so happens that their new community castle is filled to the brim with magic doors and ancient treasures to help aid on their noble quest of inter-dimensional grocery shopping.

[tmntxthings]

Yk that dude who almost always gets run over whilst crossing the street in Rottmnt? Yeah.

You swallowed. Thinking to yourself as you looked across the street, that this would be the day. Today, you were going to make it.

The sign changed to green, the picture of a figure moving. Your left hand tightened its grip on the grocery bag you held. You wouldn’t continue to live in fear. That was a horrible way to live.

Without leaving your house. Choosing to never go outside again. Or more accurately, to never be a pedestrian again. Well…

You had tried to bike it before, but that had ended just as similar as the rest. Getting rushed from what seemed to be all around by a cacophony of noise. Sometimes you were freezing in place or being tossed around.

Each time had put the fear of death in you. Squeezing your eyes shut, holding your breath, only to count to three and New York’s street bustle was back to normal again. The sign changed to red, a raised hand took the place of the figure.

No villains being chased by mutants. Not almost getting sideswiped by huge vans. Each “miracle” as everyone would call it, was you being impossibly left unscathed.

Damn miracles. It was a curse. To constantly be on the verge of a heart attack! Seriously, no matter which street you crossed as long as it was in New York, you were doomed to the inevitable.

A free ticket to see your life flash before your eyes! Shaking your head you knew exactly what this was. You were stalling. Maybe you’d just haul a cab. Tell him to spin the block so it would just put you on the other side of the street. Where your destination resides.

Your apartment a shining beacon of safety, was within reach. Just one crosswalk. And you would be home safe. You looked down the street.

One way, then the other. Traffic. Cars. Streetlights. People. But this was how it always started off as. No sign of them.

Yet.

You sighed. This was all in your head. Just a bizarre reoccurrence of events. It couldn’t seriously happen every time you got on a crosswalk.

That would be insanity. That would be something out of a movie! Not real life. So as you siked yourself up, for a sixth time, your eyes made contact with your goal.

The three steps that led up to the door justttt across the street. This was it. You were doing this. You were gonna walk this damn crosswalk. And make it to the other side.

The people around you started walking. You joined them. The light still green, the figure in motion. A timer of thirteen seconds counted down.

Your eyes never left your destination. So you were ignorantly unaware of how the people around you, just dispersed. Moving off faster or slower. Creating distance, enough space, for you to have a bubble.

The hairs on the back of your neck rose. And as fast as lightning something went speeding by inches in front of you. Surprise, really should be the last emotion at this point.

Disappointment. Or acceptance was one more accurate as you jolted backwards. Arms raising and as if in slow motion someone was grabbing ahold of your waist securely.

There was a flash of blue as you met the gaze of who was holding onto you. One of the mutants you had come to expect. Green and a brightly colored mask. There was no look of shock on your face. Just one of exasperation.

He had the nerve to wink in this slowed down state of the world. Whisking you out of harms way in seconds, placing you back down, further along on the white stripes and was gone.

Off saving the day you presumed since you had done a little research on the vigilantes of NYC. They were the city’s heroes whether they admitted it publicly or not. Your heart betrayed you, beating faster than a hummingbird’s as you stumbled to the finish line.

Despite your lack of facial reaction your body was alive, hairs standing, trembling limbs and the breath practically sucked out of you.

“Are you okay?!” People were crowding around you now. A sense of déjà vu clouding your mind as the same questions were asked. The same exclamations pointed out.

“That must’ve been quite a shock!” And the like were a bit muffled to your ears. You couldn’t help but stare after where the chase had departed. Taking with them the few seconds of mayhem you had to endure.

Your mini heart attack.

That settles it. You thought to yourself in defeat. Marching away from the crowd, up the steps, pulling out a key to unlock the door.

You were in a movie. Some cliche action film most likely. And your role, your purpose in this world, was to almost die.

Just you know, in passing.

[mrsoharaa]

He watches you through the screens of his hovering illuminating monitors. Steady irises of piercing crimson following every motion you would make. Pupils linger onto your swift figure swinging and climbing from building to building in your own dimension.

Good, nothing too troublesome for the night.

Everything seemed calm and collected. Peaceful, even.

Miguel strolls his broaden shoulders to ease the tightening ache collecting amongst his thick muscles. Swearing lightly under his breath as he feels the tension in the slant of his shoulders pinch with every notion.

He ignores the nagging ache for a moment, eyes drifting back onto the glowing screens floating before him. Studies you intently, watching you freely, comfortably sit on the ledge of the highest building in your city.

Watches you carefully remove your mask from your face, allowing the flowy, wavy tresses of umber to dance with the gentle wind. Shaking your head softly as you allowed the remnants of your hair to cascade down to the nightly breeze. Some strands trickling over the slant of your right shoulder, majority of it curtaining down to the midst of your back.

Something deep within Miguels chest swelled at the natural sight.

Shorten breaths caught at the back of his throat, as his leering eyes continued to bask in the calming wonderment of your natural beauty through his luminous screens.

What was this? Why was he feeling like...this?

He hated it, and yet...welcomed it with open invitation.

Lulling in closer towards your radiant, pliant expression. Noting the seamless act of your slim fingers carefully raking through your hair, bringing him such...unwarranted feelings to stir in the midst of his stomach and heart.

"Peeping on the new recruit, eh Miguel?~" Lyla popped up upon his left shoulder, swiftly, hastily discarding the screen with your presence on it.

"Lyla...I thought I told you to shut down an hour ago" he feigns a fake cough, avoiding eye contact with his grinning, buzzing AI.

"Mm, you diddd, but there was something I had to check up on first! and I'm kinda glad I didn't shut down" she eggs on, he groans in irritation, already knowing what she was forming to say.

"Don't say I— youuuu, were checking her out, weren't you Miggy?" Lyla spurs on, smirking from ear to ear as she leans against his face.

"No, I wasn't. I was just checking to see if anything was out of...sorts" he flicks and pinches his languid fingers to bring up other luminous screens.

"Mm! right 'sorts' as in...?" she snides with perched brows.

"D-Danger, Lyla, what else?" he groans in growing agitation, fluster and annoyance seeping into his thicken skin.

"Just checking boss man!" she chirps, he rolls his eyes.

"Oh, before I actually do shut down Migs! maybe, you should, I don't know...try to actually have a conversation with her...say hi or something, don't creep on her" she giggles lightly, noting the gradual contemplation immerse upon his stoic face.

And without a spare of a second, Lyla had shut down.

Leaving a contemplating Miguel to his pondering thoughts, his softened eyes gleaming back up to meet with the reopened screen of your serene presence. Still sitting comfortably on the ledge of the building you were gazing over. He glances down at his watch, giving it a thought over.

It was late in the night...would you even care for company at this time?

Would you care...for his company?

Would he mind the company?

Thoughts continued to weigh at his restless mind, an extracted claw tapping away at the suited material of his crossed forearm.

He inhales a breath and exhales heavily at the pestering contemplation rambling through his head.

Finally, having enough with the inconsistent back and forth debating...he decides to coordinate directly to your exact location in your dimension. Meeting you at the peak of the buildings rooftop, the gentle cool breeze welcoming his hefty presence as he steps through the opening buzzing portal.

The sound of the familiar whirling of a portal captures your attention, your head twirls around to see the familiar built of the big man, himself, waltzing through the brighten gateway. His mask dissipating from his face as he studies around your vicinity gracefully, cautiously. Purposely, avoiding to linger on to your pretty face.

"Miguel, right?!" the sound of your soft voice swivels through his stocky being, making it that much harder for him to avoid contact with you.

Because once he does...he doesn't believe he will be able to pry away from your transcending beauty.

[f1version]

BARBARA ROBERTS ★ DTN SERIES

series’ masterlist

An old chapter is reopened, that force and distinction that drove Barbara Roberts to the top of F1 for two consecutive years, back home. Malibu Racing is a new temple, the extension of a legacy.

Barbara Roberts, Team Principal and CEO of Malibu Racing F1 Team has her origins tied to history books. A two-time world champion whose on-track abilities couldn’t be ignored. A fierce competitor who came back for more.

At the young age of four, Barbara began chasing the excitement behind the wheel, observing karting races closely, going home, and developing her talent with each lap of her uncle’s old kart. She found happiness in speed, enjoyed visiting the Phoenix Street Circuit each year, obsessed over the Indy500, and watched Ayrton Senna and Alain Prost challenge each other throughout the years. Suddenly, she began to dream about a hot-pink car, all her notebooks filled with drawings of it. She, as well as her family, then understood that racing was a fire that needed to be fueled.

Roberts made her kart racing debut at the age of eight, and after winning her first race, it was a matter of time before her name was engraved on several US-based kart championship trophies. However, further progress would require expanding horizons, which prompted the Roberts to move across the ocean in 1994, supporting Barbara for what could be a challenging career. 

Europe was fast, she stayed faster. By fourteen her collection of kart titles included national, international, and world championships. Every race and practice aimed for that unattainable perfection, being aware of the judging eyes on each step she took. At 16 years old, Roberts was fearless, deciding to pursue another dream of hers, an engineering career. She used to say that the pressure was a reminder of what was yet to come.

Pieces began to fall into place, Barbara embarked on single-seaters as soon as age allowed it. Her first title in Monoposto Racing Club was followed by titles in Formula BMW ADAC, Formula Renault, and the Formula 3 Euro Series — all consecutive titles. And bound to keep the momentum, she started hunting for a seat in Formula One, closing the deal with BMW Williams in a reserve capacity for 2004 and securing a race seat for the 2005 season. 

Debuting at 21, Barbara spent her year fighting at the midfield in struggling machinery, yet was able to finish 10th in the World Championship, once again pouring ink on paper for what would be BMW Sauber in 2006. An improvement in reliability for her sophomore season placed Roberts on track for her maiden Grand Prix victory in the streets of Monaco, an unbelievable, emotional, and well-remembered drive that holds her in the tracks’ spotlight to this day.

For the 2007 season, Scuderia Ferrari took the bet on two young talents: Barbara Roberts and Kimi Räikkönen, giving both drivers the exact same 3-year-contract and an opportunity to make history. 

The pair held a fiery battle all season, ending in one of the most astonishing title deciders in the sport’s history, where the world championship rested on their number of wins due to a tie in the points. The crown sealed on Räikkönen, but Barbara’s own would arrive that very next year, securing it after 8 wins and 15 total podiums.

In her final year of mastery, Roberts became a double World Champion after a year-long battle against Brawn’s Jenson Button, three points separating them. And despite being contracted to race in 2010, Roberts decided to leave F1 behind at the end of the 2009 season.

After her F1 retirement, Barbara has taken on different roles and challenges throughout the years. In 2011 revealing her retirement's original reason, Roberts announced her new position as CEO of her family’s emblematic automobile manufacturer, Malibu Motors, linking nostalgia with modernity. In 2016, they held the biggest car launch in history, presenting one supercar and seven SUVs which resulted into having six of those as the bestselling cars of the year. In 2017, Malibu Motors became part of the Formula 3 engine programme, making the public think that was her only form of a comeback to motorsport. Yet, one year later, a victory in the 24 Hours of Le Mans was waiting for her and former rivals, Fernando Alonso and Jenson Button. And, in for 2019, she begun sponsoring multiple young women across motorsport, mentoring those in the path to Formula One.

Important figures of the sport, old colleagues, and the public, believed Barbara would be back in the car sooner or later, but after fourteen years, she has opted for a different path. A decade-long project becomes reality in 2023, with two hot-pink cars flying on track, resembling Barbie’s old childhood drawings.

★ Malibu Racing F1 ⓒ 2023

THE PINK MEMBERSHIP — @lorarri @fefieverywhere @inejghafawifesblog @lenean7 @boiohboii @monacokisses @nyxblessed @whenelisefallsinlove @peachiicherries @folklorelvrr @spencerrxids @destourtereaux @lovelytsunoda @landonorizzz @love4lando @evans-dejong @cielolercs @mae119 @spacius @almostjollypizza @elliegrey2803 @thatsadsmallchild @formulaoneluver33 @obsessed-fan-alert @teamspideyman @mikauraur @goldsainz @iamk-shale @fefieverywhere @be-your-coffee-pot @asian-vulcan @schumacheer @opheliaas-stuff @satellitelh @sialexia @folkloresreputation . . . join the taglist here

[harrywavycurly]

Seven out of Ten: One night stand Eddie Munson Smut

TW: smut minors DNI, p in v, unprotected sex(don’t be like them okay? Wrap your shit), cursing

A/N: I haven’t ever written smut before in my life so be gentle please? Also this is the origin story of Eddie and Reader from It was Just One Night that you can find here✨

“You’re really pretty.” You try not to laugh as Eddie stares down at you, his glossy eyes roaming over your features as your arms wrap around his neck. “Holy fuck.” He mumbles as his eyes make their way down to your bare chest, your shirt and bra somewhere in the front seat of his van that’s currently parked outside the Hideout where the two of you had just met a few hours ago.

“You’re drunk.” You tease as you lightly pull on the hair at the back of his neck making his eyes close and a low moan escape his lips. When he opens his eyes Eddie can’t help himself as he leans down and presses his lips to the side of your neck right at the spot below your ear causing you to let out a gasp when you feel his mouth begin sucking and lightly nipping at your sensitive skin.

“I’m not that drunk.” He whispers in your ear before placing one last wet kiss to your neck. “Much better.” He smiles as he pulls back so he can admire his handy work, a few bright red spots all on the side of your neck that you know by tomorrow will be full on purple and red hickeys.

“Asshole.” You snap but Eddie knows you’re not actually upset by the way you fight back a smile as you look up at him. “I’m enjoying all this but,” you wrap your bare legs around him in an attempt to pull him closer to you making him almost collapse on top of you. “I really need you to fuck me.” Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice and before you can even catch your breath from the sudden added weight his lips are on yours.

You can feel how hard he is as he shifts above you while you deepen the kiss and allow his tongue full access to your mouth. Eddie moans into your mouth when he can feel just how wet you are for him as the tip of his cock meets your entrance. He pulls away from the kiss so he can look you in your eyes, he gives you a smug smile when he sees your cheeks are a light shade of pink and your lips are swollen.

“You sure you want to do this?” All you can do is nod your head as your grip on the back of his head tightens. “Words sweetheart.” He leans down and places a kiss to the tip of your nose making you giggle. “Need to hear you say it.” You let out a shaky breath as you look up at him.

“Yes I want to do this.” Your voice is soft and Eddie just smiles as he leans down and kisses you on the lips. Right as his lips make contact with yours you feel him push himself all the way inside you making you let out a moan as your legs try to pull him closer in a desperate attempt to get him deeper.

“Fuck.” Eddie is still for a moment when he pulls away and rests his forehead on your shoulder. “Jesus you feel so good.” He begins to thrust into you soft and slow making you squirm a bit because at this moment you need something a little different. You pull his hair just enough so his head lifts off your shoulder and he can look at you.

“Harder.” You moan and Eddie just nods as his thrusts start to be a little harder, you unwrap one of your legs from around him and bend your knee so your foot in on the floor of his van allowing for him to reach deeper with every thrust.

“Holy shit.” He grunts as his movements begin to quicken making you moan as your hands dig into his back. “How’s that baby?” He mumbles against your neck.

“Oh fuck.” You feel the tip of Eddie’s cock hit you at just the right spot with each thrust. “Just like that…oh god.” Eddie continues to pound into you harder and he knows by the way your eyes are closing and your nails are digging into his back that you’re close.

“You like when I pound into you like this huh?” You just nod as Eddie’s thrusts start to get sloppier, you feel your release building as Eddie’s lips cover your chest in sloppy open mouthed kisses. “Fuck you feel amazing.” He groans as his forehead rests on your shoulder.

“I’m,” You close your eyes as you feel your back arch and your hands find their way back into getting tangled in Eddie’s hair. “I’m close.” Eddie takes that as an invitation to thrust into as hard as he can and it only takes a few times before he feels you clench around him and his name escapes your lips in a loud moan.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” He stutters as his own release comes quickly after yours making his eyes close and his body go still before he gives you one last thrust. “Holy fucking shit.” He pants as he rolls off of you and lands next to you on top of his pile of clothes.

“I’d give that a solid seven out of ten.” You joke as you sit up and grab his shirt off the floor by your feet so you can put it on.

“Seven? Baby that was at least an eight.” He argues as he tosses you your shorts while he slides his boxers on.

“It would’ve been an eight if my foot wouldn’t have landed on an empty pack of smokes while in the middle of it.” Eddie looks over and sure enough there’s an empty pack of camels sitting right under your foot.

“So what you’re saying is next time make sure the van is clean before we have sex in the back of it and that’ll get me up to an eight out of ten?” You laugh as you pull your shorts on and reach across him to grab your shoes.

“Next time?” You raise an eyebrow at him before you reach into the front seat and grab your purse. “Who said anything about a next time?” Eddie just watches as you get your stuff together all while he’s just sitting there in his boxers. “It was fun…I’ll call you.” Your voice is sweet as you lean over and kiss his lips smiling as you pull away. “Thanks Eddie.” Is all you say before you turn and as gracefully as possible exit the back of his van.

“You’re welcome.” He states as you give him a little wave before you close the door. “Seven out of ten isn’t bad.” He mumbles as he finds his jeans and tries to put them on the best he can before climbing into the drivers seat of the van. “I wonder if she’ll actually call me.” He thinks to himself as he begins his short drive home.