#the lyrics take on a completely different meaning

[astr-venus]

｡⁠☆Early｡⁠.ﾟ⁠+⁠ 

｡⁠☆Cw: suggestive, she/her, black reader, swearing

Katsuki came home from work early today. Not that you were aware. You, who's still in the middle of cooking dinner while blasting some song that Katsuki can't understand. It's melodic, smooth, and so so sensual. Katsuki may not be able to understand the English song lyrics, but just from the sound he can get the gist.

You don't have the best singing voice in your own opinion, but Katsuki is entranced just from the sound of it carrying through your shared home. He feels like he's floating as slowly follows the melody through the house, not bothering to take off anything except his shoes. He completely skips past the bedroom as well, uncomfortable clothes be damned, all he can think about is seeing you.

It's like a weight lifted when you enter his sight, and simultaneously a brick is placed in his chest. He just barely peaks around the corner, not wanting to interrupt your gentle singing, nor your sybaritic dancing.

It's not like he's never seen you dance before, and by no means are you genuinely shy — plus with enough liquor in your system anything is possible — but it's different seeing you in your element. He can't control how thickly he swallows, or the heat rushing in his chest and his cheeks. He fears he resembles some sort of stupid looking tomato, and god it's so embarrassing how worked up he still gets just from looking at you. He feels like an idiotic high schooler who can't keep it in his pants. Fuck, he feels so full of disgustingly mushy emotions he doesn't know what to do with it all. Katsuki swears he'll kill you if you don't get to him first.

He swallows again watching you rub your hands up your body as you whine your hips in the air. The stove lighting feels more like a spotlight as he stares, your brown skin seeming to glisten in the yellow-orange glow. He has half a mind to just wander into your bedroom and relieve himself before you even know he's home, but tearing his eyes away feels like a crime.

With a flourish you swing your hair around, giggling at yourself when the stiff parts of your curls barely move an inch. You let out a shriek when you finally catch Katsuki standing in the door way, one of the knives you used to chop vegetables seeming to magically appear in your hands. Call Katsuki crazy if you want to, but he can feel his body practically catch on fire when the tip of your knife just barely catches his Adams apple.

What can he say. It's hot as fuck that you know how to protect yourself, whether you're a prohero or not. If he has to go out this way, surrounded by the smell of the dinner his girlfriend cooked him, her eyes glinting with something both powerful and dangerous, well he'd say he must have some damn good karma. Fuck all that dying as a martyr shit, this is the best way to be sent to the grave by far.

"Katsuki..." You sigh, panic easing out of your muscles as you lower the knife. "You can't scare me like that."

Katsuki scowls, trying to hide the real reason his face is burning. "Shut the fuck up. You're the one waving that shit around. What have I told you about situational awareness, dumbass?"

He regrets his words as soon as your little frown over takes your features. He may have been a little harsh, damn it. It didn't even help either, his whole body still feels like it's on fire.

"Bad day at work, Katsu?"

You put the knife back on the counter, and bring your hands up to his face, because of course you do. Katsuki is already having a hard time keeping himself in check, and now you have to look at him with your stupid fucking sweet soft eyes. His chest feels like it's caving in on itself you're just making it worse. The worst part about it, is he even kind of likes it. God fucking damn it.

Katsuki places his hand behind your head and shoves your face into his chest, not able to look you in the eye when you're staring so tenderly. Your hands move downwards to rest on his back, allowing both of you to hold each other close. Katsuki scoffs.

"Didn't I tell you to shut the fuck up?"

You giggle, and Katsuki decides for the who-knows-how-many-th time that he wants to hear that sound for the rest of his life. He doesn't know what he would do without your stupid fucking smile.

Woohoo !! Second post !!

Katsuki feels so much cuteness aggression that he literally gets a hard on. That's it. That's the fic.

I would say "someone save his poor soul 😔" but I fear you are what salvation looks like to him so there'd be no point.

｡⁠☆Requests open

[randomlyandrogynousfox-blog]

homecoming - demo version

the demo version is so interesting. partially because we finally get to hear the original short snippets they mention in interviews, but also because you can hear the evolution in the song that got them to the album. you can hear the album emerge. you can hear it click!!!

[canayams-art]

One of the things I find so interesting about the choices for covers with alien stage songs is that in every instance it feels like the song being covered gives more insight into the particular character(s) performing the cover. The alternate versions of the songs feel so specifically selected in order to further explore those characters’ feelings using a song that was not originally written for them but still reveals some additional layer of their inner identities or some sort of foreshadowing for what they will become.

All this to say,,,,,, based on previous covers and what we know about the cast,,,,,,, I’m on my hands and knees begging for a hyuluka cover of Cure and a Luka cover of Unknown (Till the End),,,,,,

[seafoam-taide]

did you know? does it matter? did you know? does it matter?

[kotaromita]

a lot of things are happening to me recently, huh? usually i'm just an observer of the most interesting on-goings in my friends lives but lately i've been tagging along in all the most significant of chaoses

if i told myself from a few months ago that was my current day to day he'd be scared shitless but luckily everything happening has been pretty good

[thinkinonsense]

i just listened to sabrina's new album and oh my god the song slim pickins is such a song that was written from daydreaming about lumberjack!logan, oh and the recent fic that you reblogged was just so yummy and perfect for that song especially the lyrics "a boy who's jacked and nice" like god having to settle down for less because nobody can be him 😭😭😭 need him expeditiously im afraid

it's slim pickins

lumberjack!logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: yearning!! fluff, tiny nsfw conversation (nothing graphic)

a/n: this request couldn't have come in at a better time because i'm seeing sabrina on opening night of her tour tomorrow night!! <3

masterlist

"am i just destined to be alone forever?"

another friday night in the hole in the wall bar outside of town. another date gone horribly wrong. your question hangs heavy in the air as you gossip to your best friend who's bartending tonight.

"you keep picking douche bags." she answers without missing a beat.

"well, that's fuckin' rude." you slur slightly, sipping on your third fruity drink tonight.

"well, it's fuckin' true." she smiles, looking over your shoulder at a group of men that walked in. "why don't you go talk to one of them? they look hot."

you spin around in your stool to see a group of lumberjack workers. these were the men that you worked with, you can't flirt with them.

"i work with those guys!" you hiss.

"sooo...?" she smirks.

both of you quickly end the conversation with the five guys approach the bar. the last thing you needed was for these guys to see the desperate and pathetic look on your face. quickly, you rummage through your purse for some cash to put down.

"what are you doing here, doll face?" a familiar voice asks.

you look up and see the most handsome of the men, in front of you; logan. twice your size, buff, toned, tan... god, you had such a crush on him. never in a million years would you go after him though, he's too good to want a girl like you. you were just a friend. he make small talk with you, laughed at your jokes, calls you little nicknames, and refills the coffee pot for you but thats what friends do, right?

"oh... um, i'm just-"

"she's been sitting here moaning and bitching to me all night about her horrible date." your best friend smiles then introduces herself to logan with a handshake.

"thanks asshole." you mumble under your breath at her, making logan chuckle.

"tough night?" he asks, looking down at you in a way that makes heat rises up your face.

"kinda, but i'll save you all the gory details." you admit, sliding off the tall stool a little ungracefully. "have a good night, logan."

"wait, doll face." he says, grabbing your arm to balance you. "wanna talk about it? i'm sure your friend here is busy."

the alcohol let him take you to one of the booths. all the other men noticed logan and you sitting together, definitely making mental notes to tease you both on monday.

"so, what's on your mind?" logan asks, taking a swig of his beer.

"it's nothing really..." your mouth says one thing but your phone says another; practically buzzing off the table.

"you sure?" he raises a brow.

"uh... yeah?" you sound confused as you peak at the notification. an annoyed groan falls from your lips as you slam the phone back down and sink into the booth. "why? why? why?"

"why what?" he squints.

"be honest, do i have dumbass written on my forehead?" you sigh, hazily looking over at logan. the question threw him off guard; unsure if you're joking or not.

"no." he answers.

" well, i sure feel like one. every guy i've gone out with is either the most obnoxious asshole i've ever met who's still hung up on his ex or he's absolutely perfect but he's just not ready for a commitment right now? what the fuck does that even mean?"

all of your drunk rambling surprised logan. at work, he's only seen your shy personality as you scribble down numbers and log them into spreadsheets. this was a completely different side of you.

"i know what you're thinking, 'why not just try dating a woman?'. well, i fucking would if this town wasn't stuck in the 50's, except the men aren't going to war in order to get away from you, instead they just run back in between their ex's thighs and pull that 'it's not you, it's me' bullshit."

it was getting harder for logan not to crack at your silly yet, adorable expressions as you rant.

"and the worst part is that they can't even get a woman to orgasm." you say a little quieter. logan stores that quote in his pocket for another time. "a few weeks ago, i literally had a man in my bed who didn't know the difference between their, there, and they're! i don't know who's stupider, him for not knowing or me for letting him give me the worst head in my life."

if you were even a little sober, this would be mortifying. sitting in front of your work crush and spilling pathetic details of your love life to him. if you were even a little sober, you would have notice his eyes turn dark and lustful under the dim bar lighting. logan couldn’t fathom that you were having trouble in your love life.

"sounds like it's slim pickins out there."

"you have no idea." you sigh.

"if it makes you feel any better, i don't think that you're stupid."

"you're just saying that to be polite. trust me, everyone thinks i'm an idiot for taking these guys back every time. im just like my mom, my sisters, my friends, and every other girl i know. we make up excuses for their shitty behavior because we are afraid to be alone."

logan could see tears forming in your waterline, about to roll down your cheek. it hurt him to see you so heartbroken over these losers. everyday at work, you came in like a ray of fucking sunshine. you didn't deserve to be treated like this.

"it's not your fault that those asshole don't know how to treat a woman." he sighs, leaning forward in an attempt to comfort you.

"i know, i know..." your voice was cracking and you didn't want logan to see you so vulnerable. suddenly, you rise from the booth. "thanks for listening, logan."

"where do you think you're going, doll face?" he asks, following you out the door.

"should head home." you mumble, pulling up the number of a car service about twenty minutes out.

"let me give you a ride home." he offers. "you've been drinking too much."

it's late, you're exhausted and heartbroken so, you let him help you into his truck. it's kinda old but full of character, like logan.

"what's going on in that pretty head of yours?" logan asks, breaking the silence in the car. "still sad?"

you shrug. "think i'm just going to become a nun."

he tried, he really did, but he had to laugh.

"sweetheart, there's no need to become a nun."

"well, i'm never going to find the man i'm looking for so, might as well join the sisterhood."

"what are you looking for in this dream man?"

logan's question has your eyes wondering over to where his left hand sets on the wheel and his right on thigh. the images of what his hands could do flood your fuzzy mind.

"j-just a good guy who's um, who's kind, jacked... respectful, good with his hands...."

it was shameless, your staring that is. logan worried you might get drool on the car seat, not that he would mind.

"hm... those seem like simple requirements there."

"apparently not." you giggle. "it's fine, though. i'm sure the nuns will be friendly."

"still thinking about joining the 'sisterhood'?" he asks, pulling up to your drive way.

"maybe... i'll give it twenty-four hours and if he doesn't come knocking on my door, i'll just buy a chasity belt and go off the grid with the nuns." your smile warmed his cold bitter heart. "thanks for the ride, lo. i'll see you monday."

as logan watches you fumble with your keys and make your way inside, he fights an internal battle over his feelings. he has had a crush on you since the day the two of you first met. by the end of the week, you had baked him some cupcakes, babbling about how you do this for all the new employees, which was far from the truth he later learned.

you captured his heart. even when he tried to burry his feelings for you, when logan looked at you, his world stood still for a moment. he looked forward to all your silly jokes in the break room or the ridiculous gossip you would tell him when he lingered outside of your office door. he couldn't let you slip away into the arms of another asshole who didn't deserve you.

before logan could comprehend what he was doing, his feet lead him up to your door, knocking twice. the wooden door opened and he knew he made the right decision.

there you were in your light blue and grey plaid pajamas with a cupcake in your hand and vanilla frosting on your bottom lip. logan had never seen you look prettier.

"hey? did i leave something in the–"

in the blink of an eye, logan’s hands reach up to caress your jaw, leaning in until his mouth engulfs yours. the taste of vanilla and alcohol surrounded both of you. forgetting the cupcake in your hand, dropping it to reach up and pull logan closer. kissing him was like drinking a glass of wine after a long day. no more stress or anxiety over anyone else’s bullshit. the two of you gasp against each others lips, catching your breath.

“i could be the good guy, you know?” logan pants, now forever addicted to your taste. “i could be the good guy for you.”

your heart fluttered as you stared up at his pretty hazel eyes, twirling a piece of his hair around your finger. this had to be a very realistic dream, thats the only answer to this.

“you would do that for me, logan?” your delicate voice could bring him to his knees, worshiping the ground you walk on.

“i would do anything for you, honey.” he whispers, leaning back in to kiss you again. maybe your dream guy wasn't as far away as you thought?

[thelovehypothesis]

You ramble, but it's adorable

Ollie Bearman x fem!reader

From this request 

+1k words

a/n's: this was requested on my old account which I accidentally deleted but, hope this fic finds the person that requested it!

warnings: fluff!

summary: lost in your latest obsession, and he's completely captivated by your every word—because to Ollie, every ramble is just another reason to fall in love.

Ollie had always found it easy to get lost in the small moments—those quiet pauses between races, when the world slowed down just enough for him to savour the simplicity of life. But nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the way he felt right now, watching you animatedly explain your latest obsession.

You were sitting on the couch, knees tucked under you, eyes sparkling as you tried to unpack the complex universe that Taylor Swift had created with her "folklore" album. Your hands moved in quick gestures as you traced out what you called "the love triangle of all love triangles" between Betty, James, and August. Ollie leaned against the backrest, listening with a quiet smile, his eyes never leaving your face. 

"And then—" you continued, your voice slightly higher in pitch with excitement, "in 'Cardigan,' Betty is talking about how she loved James even after he messed everything up. But, and here's the crazy part, 'August' is from the perspective of the girl James cheated on her with!" You waved your hands in a dramatic arc. "It’s so genius because it’s like each song is a different piece of the same story. I mean, can you even imagine the emotional depth it takes to create something like that?"

Ollie chuckled softly, shaking his head just enough for you to notice but not enough to interrupt you. You barely paused, too deep in your passionate analysis of the music to stop. 

"But wait, I’m not done!" You looked at him, eyes wide. "You’ve got 'Betty' next, which is James' apology song. He’s basically trying to get Betty back after messing around with August, but you can tell he’s just a stupid kid who didn’t know what he had until he lost it!" You sighed dramatically, clutching a pillow to your chest. "It’s heartbreaking, but also like... I can't stop listening to it on repeat."

Ollie couldn't help it; his heart swelled at how much you cared about all these tiny details, how you put your whole soul into explaining it to him. He loved how your face lit up with excitement, how your voice carried the melody of your thoughts so effortlessly. And he especially loved how you didn’t care whether he knew every little detail or not—you just wanted to share it with him.

"You’re adorable, you know that?" Ollie said softly, his voice cutting through your rambling just enough to make you pause.

You blinked, thrown off for a second. "What?" 

"You ramble, but it's adorable," he repeated, this time with that signature Ollie grin that made your stomach flip. He reached out, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered near your cheek, warm and soft.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. "I’m not rambling… am I?"

"You absolutely are," Ollie teased, leaning forward so that his face was inches from yours. "But don’t stop. I like it when you talk about stuff like this. It’s like... I can see how much it means to you, and I love seeing you so happy."

You playfully swatted his arm, but your heart was beating faster, the tender warmth of his words melting away any embarrassment. "Fine," you said, narrowing your eyes in mock seriousness, "but don’t complain when I start talking about the metaphors behind the lyrics."

"I wouldn’t dream of it." He pulled you closer, his arm slipping around your waist. His eyes softened as they held yours, and for a moment, the world outside your little bubble disappeared.

The next thing you knew, his lips were on yours. The kiss was soft at first, a gentle brush of affection. But then Ollie deepened it, his hand cupping the side of your face as he pulled you impossibly closer, his lips warm and insistent, making your heart race even faster. 

When you finally pulled apart, breathless and flushed, you couldn’t help but grin at him. "I think that was just a tactic to stop me from talking."

Ollie smirked, the mischievous glint in his eyes impossible to ignore. "Maybe," he admitted, his thumb grazing your lower lip, "but it worked, didn’t it?"

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny that you were already melting under his touch. He leaned his forehead against yours, breathing you in as if you were the most precious thing in the world. 

"Seriously though," Ollie murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "I love listening to you talk. About Taylor Swift, about racing, about whatever it is that’s on your mind. You’re just so… passionate about everything, and it makes me love you even more."

The way he said it, so effortlessly, like it was the most natural thing in the world, made your heart skip a beat. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close again, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

"You’re too sweet, Ollie," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

He chuckled lightly, his arms tightening around you. "Only for you."

For a while, you both stayed like that—curled up in each other’s arms, the TV flickering in the background, the weight of the world outside fading away. You weren’t sure how long you sat there, but you didn’t care. All you knew was that this moment, with him holding you so gently, was exactly where you wanted to be.

After a while, you shifted slightly, tilting your head up to look at him again. "Okay, but I’m serious about that love triangle. You have to admit it’s pretty genius, right?"

Ollie smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before nodding. "It’s genius," he agreed, even though he barely understood half of what you were saying. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way your eyes lit up, the way your voice danced with excitement. And if listening to Taylor Swift conspiracies made you this happy, then he would listen to every single one.

"Thanks for putting up with my rambling," you said, your voice softening.

Ollie smiled, brushing his lips against yours once more. "It’s not putting up with anything. I love it, and I love you."

And with that, he kissed you again—soft, sweet, and full of love. The kind of kiss that felt like home. The kind that made you feel like no matter what you rambled about, he would always be there to listen, to smile, and to love you through it all.

---The End---

-Lots of love, Em.

[shiraoyagi]

hot take ??

the only reason people say that "mafuyu and tsukasa have nothing in common" when presented with mafukasa parallels is because they equate mafuyu and tsukasa being similar to "tsukasa has depression" because the fandom equates mafuyu's personality to being depressed and nothing else.

it doesn't help that people (primarily younger people in the fandom) who DO believe in mafukasa parallels end up making the mistake of portraying tsukasa as depressed because as of right now he is not (although it's possible he was in past because of his Very Unclear Middle School Backstory but that's irrelevant)

anyways, mafuyu and tsukasa are narrative foils because their core personalities are built off of the concept of wanting to make the people around them— especially their families— happy.

they both developed personalities at a young age based on someone they looked up to. for tsukasa, it was seiichi amami's performance that inspired him to be a star— a hero that could cheer anyone up. for mafuyu, it was her mother taking care of her that inspired her to be a nurse— and you can see the similarities from there.

for mafuyu, her identity would first come into conflict when her mother expressed her want for mafuyu to be a doctor— suddenly, "everyone's" happiness didn't match what she wanted to do, leaving her in a state of disorder and eventual depression.

for tsukasa, his identity was something he nearly forgot in its entirety at the start of the main story— becoming arrogant and fully absorbed in a hero persona, forgetting the kind person he truly is. furthermore, his current character arc seems to be foreshadowing that what "being a star" to him is going to be called into question— maybe it is something more than just being the main character that saves everyone.

their insecurities are incredibly similar.

in mafuyu's first mixed, mafuyu feels insecure towards ichika because unlike ichika, she feels as if her lyrics have no genuine meaning to be expressed to other people— despite them being her very real feelings. this is brought up again in her second mixed as well.

in tsukasa's third focus event, something similar happens. when watching seiichi's performance, he thinks that his acting is "real" and feels inferior towards him, which is ironic because tsukasa has been method acting this whole time. when tsukasa is acting out rio or bartlett or really anyone at this point in the story, it's not just those characters— it's a reflection of his traumas.

just like mafuyu, tsukasa undermines his passions he's poured his feelings into because someone else's work is more genuine in his eyes.

now, then, foils have many similarities and parallels (and i could honestly list a lot more), but how i define them is that they usually have some kind of major branching difference that MAKES them foils.

for mafuyu and tsukasa it's pretty straightforward.

mafuyu's people pleasing behavior comes from external expectations and pressures— her mother's demands.

tsukasa's people pleasing behavior comes internally, from himself— if he can't meet his own standards, if he can't be the perfect big brother or the perfect star, then he is nothing.

and even then, there's some overlap.

tsukasa's behavior was indirectly encouraged by his mother praising him for being a "good big brother" over the phone instead of asking him if he was okay while home alone.

mafuyu's terrified to be herself around other people because she doesn't want to worry or bother them— she doesn't want to be a burden— and projects her mother's expectations onto them, not realizing that they would prefer the real mafuyu if they knew the truth.

and the concept of mafukasa being foils is most perfectly and blatantly portrayed in these two cards.

mafuyu, the marionette, sitting limp on the floor— puppeteered by her mother's demands and donning a mask to hide her true self.

tsukasa, the jester, standing above everything else— puppeteering silenced plushies— his feelings. he's not being completely honest with himself, and he doesn't even realize it.

mafuyu has cut her strings and ripped her mask in half. she has acknowledged her true feelings and expressed them to her mother, even if she had to run away in the end.

tsukasa has not yet cut his.

[everyonewooeverywhere]

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ fuckboy!mingi x party girl!reader (feat. best friends/roomates!woosan)

synopsis ✭ you like to party but that doesn’t mean you’re always down to fuck, so, when notorious fuck boy song mingi takes an interest in you, you’re certainly wary of him. but something about his insistence and willingness to go the extra mile is incredibly attractive. when they see you start to play into him, though, your best friends wooyoung and san do everything in their power to keep you away from him. so mingi has no choice but to fly under their radar.

content/genre ✭ smut MDNI 18+, fwb/situationship to ???, undefined relationship, secret relationship

word count ✭ 5.3k

warnings ✭ alcohol consumption (not during/before sex), protected sex, slight dirty talk, fingering, sex is pretty vanilla

✭✭✭✭

CHAPTER 1: SWEET TALKER

The scene was very familiar to you. A packed bar on a Friday night. A skimpy outfit that made you feel good. Loud music that shook through your body, lyrics drowned out by the heavy bass and mass of people. All of that on top of a drink in your hand paid for by a guy you knew full well you were not going home with. It was the recipe for a perfect night.

You certainly weren’t a stranger to a good party. And this one wasn’t any different from the others. The drink in your hand was free, paid for by the pretty stranger you were talking to. His name completely slipped your mind, but you didn’t really need to remember it because, moments after catching your eyes from across the bar, your friend slipped his arm over your shoulder.

When you looked up at him in mock surprise, he kissed your forehead. He turned to look at the guy you were talking to, one who was mildly surprised to find out you had a boyfriend.

Despite his surprise, though, he piped up anyway, “Can I help you? We were kinda talking here.”

Wooyoung shook his head and laughed, “I don’t really appreciate guys buying drinks for my girl and trying to hook up with her.”

“But–”

“We’ll be on our way actually,” Wooyoung cut off the nameless man, leading you away with his arm still around your shoulder. 

It wasn’t until the two of you made it to the tall table where your friend San was standing that he dropped his arm from your shoulder.

Immediately, though, Wooyoung glared at you, “Was the drink worth it?”

“Honestly, not really,” you laughed, “His taste kinda sucked.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. You playfully nudged his arm with your elbow, “You’re just mad you can’t anyone to pay for your alcohol that isn’t San.”

“I only pay because he never stops whining,” he glared at your friend. “And it’s not like I’m gonna drink tonight either,” he said, taking a sip of the Coke in his hand.

“You don’t have to be the designated driver every weekend, San,” you told him, “Wooyoung knows how to drive, too.”

Wooyoung scoffed, “You bitch. You know how to drive. Why don’t you ever offer?”

“Because you are a gentleman, and you would never make me drive you home after a long night.”

“That’s some bullshit logic.”

You shrugged, “It works on San.”

“You know I don’t mind,” San chimed in, trying to break up this completely unnecessary argument.

You knew, but pushing Wooyoung’s buttons was always fun, especially when he was tipsy. Turning away from the table, scanning the bar. It was relatively early, only around ten, but the bar was packed with mostly students from your university. They hung around the bar and danced on the floor. It was a typical Friday night for a lot of students at your university. Since the bar was only half a mile from campus, you’d be hard-pressed to find a body in here who didn’t attend your school or know someone who did. Despite that, most of these people you had never seen before in your life. 

Song Mingi was not one of those people. 

Personally, you had only ever interacted with him in passing. Mostly with his friends. When they bought you a drink hoping you’d come back to their place. The majority of them had failed (in fact, only one of them had ever succeeded). But you knew his name at least, and you were pretty confident he knew yours.

He had never really tried. Probably because you had a reputation for rejections. Most guys, fortunately for your wallet, saw this as a challenge, and you were never gonna turn down free stuff.

From where he stood across the bar you could tell he was staring at you. Even with his stupid sunglasses on. He was staring at you with complete disregard for the fact that there was already a girl on his arm. You saw his eyebrows raise above the glasses as if he was greeting you without tipping off the girl with him. You rolled your eyes a looked back over at San who was sliding around the table to your side. 

“He’s been watching you all night.”

“Really?” you titled your head, minorly intrigued. Maybe “minorly” was a lie because you could hardly ignore the butterflies in your stomach at knowing that fact.

“Y/n…”

You side-eyed him, “What?” 

You knew “what.” Of course, you did. That much was obvious from the girl on his arm who he was pretending to pay attention to. Mingi went through girls like they were busy work. Checking them off like boxes and moving on to the next. As far as you know, he hadn’t had a girlfriend in your four years of attending the university, and you weren’t delusional enough to believe that the attention he was giving you was anything special.

As much as you despised a fuckboy, though, you would be a fool to deny that Song Mingi was the epitome of your type. Tall, dark hair, great style. Dressed in all black and adorned with carefully chosen silver jewelry. Sometimes you wondered why all the hottest guys you knew were the ones who were almost certainly never going to settle down. San would be the one to tell you to reassess your type, but listening to San was something you didn’t do very often (even though he was always right).

“I know you, and you do not want to mess around with him.”

“Correction, I don’t want to date him. I would very much like to mess around with him.”

San looked at you disapprovingly, “You and I both know that you don’t go home with guys because you know you’ll catch feelings for a one-night-stand. Tell me how the fuck you’re going to mess around with him and keep it purely casual.”

He was right, as per usual. You weren’t really the type to be able to separate romantic feelings from your sex life. God, you had surely tried, but each attempt had ended in disastrous heartbreak. And you had no reason to believe that this would be any different.

“One drink couldn’t hurt.” You were desperately trying to reason with him. Well, you were more trying to reason with yourself, but San was there to be of assistance.

“Ask him why the fuck he’s wearing sunglasses inside at night,” Wooyoung chimed in from behind you.

“Stop encouraging her.”

“Ok, dad,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes and took a sip of the Coke San had left on the table.

“It’s fine, Sannie, I’m not gonna fuck him. I’ll just talk to him, and maybe dance with him. That’s it. I’ll still come back here, and we’ll all go home together. Ok?”

Despite San’s major disapproval, you made your way back up to the bar. If he wanted you that bad, he’d come to you. You certainly weren’t going to make the first move here. If he wanted to get closer than just checking you out.

Inevitably, your phone buzzed in your pocket. It was Wooyoung, and he was letting you know that Mingi was making his way toward the bar. 

In order to avoid another mediocre drink, you started ordering a drink for yourself. When the bartender asked for your card at the end of your order, you started digging around in your clutch. Mingi knew your game. He knew full well, as he approached you, that that clutch held absolutely nothing of monetary value. And he was right of course, you had brought it for the sole purpose of holding your phone and a tube of lip gloss. 

“Go ahead and make two of those,” Mingi reached over your shoulder and handed the bartender his card.

You looked up at him, eyes wide, faking your surprise, “Oh! Thank you.”

“Of course, anything for a pretty girl who goes to bars without a wallet” he smiled down at you. Leaning against the bartop.

Laughing, you shrugged, “I don’t need to why pretty boys are willing to pay for my drinks.”

“So you knew I would pay before you even got up here?”

“Please, I could practically feel you staring at me all night,” that was fully a lie, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Couldn’t help myself. You look great it black,” He gestured to the minidress you wore. It was one of your favorites, so it felt good that he seemed to like it, too.

You grabbed at the jacket he was wearing, running your thumb over the fabric, “So do you.”

The bartender slid your drinks to you, and Mingi picked both of them up. His fingers brushed your own as he handed it to you. 

The two of you chatted and flirted for the better part of an hour. The time honestly flew by. You looked over at your friends to see that some more people had gathered around their table. Great. That meant you had time. San chatting away with people meant he wasn’t ready to leave. And you wanted to dance with Mingi. So you for sure weren’t ready to leave. You looked out over the dance floor, it was still super lively. Just crowded enough for you to have fun. 

When you set your empty glass down on the bar, Mingi grabbed your hand. He nodded toward the dance floor you were looking at so longingly, “You wanna dance?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, “sure.”

✭✭✭✭

Dancing with Mingi was incredible. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the fact that he looked so fucking good under the low lights of the bar, but holy shit. 

The rings on his hand dug into your waist where his hands were holding you against him. With your head leaned back against his chest, you could feel his breath on your neck. He groan slightly ever time you gripped his hair. It was such a subtle groan that you could only really feel it reverbrate of hiss body. 

When he turned you around in his arms, you where quick to place yours over his shoulders, pushing your chest into his. He smirked down at you with both of his hands resting on the lowest part of your back, any lower and he fully would have been groping you.

You danced with him for an indecerable amount of time. You were sweating from the amount of bodies in the room, and you can tell Mingi is too from the sheen on his forehead. 

Moving a hand from his shoulder you grabbed the sunglasses, his stupid fucking sunglasses, and lifted them up onto his head. Looking into his eyes for the first time, he winked at you. You laughed and rolled your eyes.

He pulled you closer to him, as if it were even possible. You tangled your hands in his hair as the two of you danced together. Communicating with nothing but body movements. Everything was hot, from the air in the room, to his hands on your back. You felt nothing but pure dopamine infused ecstasy. 

Most of the time, the men who bought you drinks spent their time with you bragging about themselves and telling you how good you looked in whatever outfit you had opted for that night.

It was rare that you actually had fun with them. That was usually reserved for your friends.

Maybe it was the fact that you had already decided on not going home with him, though that decision was sounding more and more unappealing as the night went on, or maybe it was because you were dancing with a man who just knew how to have fun. 

There were no thoughts in you head other than the utter giddiness you felt when his hands squeezed your waist or when his head dipped to your neck as he breathed something in your ear.

Nothing could take you out of this moment. Well maybe except your phone buzzing in your bag. You had felt it buzz around six times before you reached into your bag to see what it was. 

Of course, as you suspected it might be, it was Wooyoung. Telling you that he was tired and wanted to go home. You huffed and thought about ignoring it when you saw San approaching you.

Quickly, and without much thought at all, you reached into Mingi’s back pocket. He looked a bit taken aback by the action. When you pulled out his phone, he looked down at you, intrigued. 

“Open it,” you told him. He did what you asked, unlocking the device and handing it back to you. You were quick to type in your number with your name. Simple. No emojis. No petnames. He could change it up later if he really wanted. 

By the time San had grabbed your shoulder, you had already given him his phone back. And that was it. You let San pull you away. Left him with nothing but your phone number. Not a kiss. Not a promise to meet up. Not a “call me” with a wink. Nothing.

You left him with the hope that, if he really wanted you, he would chase you. At least just a little bit.

✭✭✭✭

Mingi had really pulled through. He had texted you that next night. It was nothing special. He told you that he had had a good time. That he thought you were beautiful, and he’d love to see you again. You texted a bit through the week, too. Casually flirting with each other. Well, it was more of him flirting, and you responding calmly. A completely false persona, because every time he mentioned anything suggestive you were a total wreck. Kicking your feet, giggling with red ears.

Even when he texted you at work.

✭✭✭✭

Working the closing shift was always such a bore. Working until the late hours of the night, cleaning up messes that you had no part in making. It was the perfect storm for a less-than-perfect evening. 

Having a friend to join you in that suffering, though, made it just a little more bearable. You had to beg your manager to keep scheduling you with San in the evenings, but it certainly paid off. The restaurant was small, so it was just the two of you at night. Left to your own devices to clean up and close down. 

Being alone with him, though, unfortunately, gave him time to lecture you.

You’d just finished mopping the floors in the back kitchen when you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. You smiled a little when you saw who it was.

“Oh god,” you heard San grumble from where he was next to you, also mopping the floors.

You looked up at him, “what?”

“You know what,” he rolled his eyes, “are you actually talking to that douchebag?”

You shrugged, “it’s nothing serious. It’s all just fun.”

“Yeah, it’s all just fun until you actually start catching feelings for him, and then he dumps you like he has so many other girls.”

His words stung quite a bit, but mostly because you knew there was more than a small layer of truth to them. You knew this was far from the first time that Mingi had given a girl this much attention, but you’d be fully lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t like it. His sweet words and constant pet names were something you looked forward to every day.

Which is why you looked back down at your phone despite San’s obvious disapproval.

| mingi: you work at arriba’s right?

| you: uhh…yeah? who told that? and why?

| mingi: no one told me. ive just seen you there a lot 

| mingi: and you said you were working tonight so i wanted to know if i could pick you up after your shift

| mingi: my roommate’s gone tonight. thought maybe we could watch a movie or whatever. we’ll have the place to ourselves

Holy shit. He was inviting you over. You’d only been talking to him for a week, but you were starting to wonder if texting back and forth was going to be the extent of this…thing…the two of you had going on.

| you: riiiight… watch a movie…

| mingi: we can do whatever you want baby

| mingi: i don’t give a shit about the movie. i just wanna see your pretty face

You glanced over at San, who was still vigorously mopping the floors in the kitchen. There’s no way you could have Mingi pick you up without him noticing. He was your ride home anyway. You didn’t want to lie to him either though. Which meant you’d have to face the humiliation of telling him you were going over to “watch movies” with the guy he was desperately trying to get you to avoid.

But you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to see Mingi. And you’d be lying even more if you said you just wanted to watch a movie with him. You were trying so hard, though, to make him keep playing this game. To see how far he was willing to go. How much he was willing to chase you. 

You couldn’t help it, though, that every time he texted you thought back to him dancing with you at the bar. His hands on your waist and your back. His lips brushed up against your ear. The strands of his dark hair between your fingers.

Noticing your silence, Mingi messaged you again:

| mingi: please baby? i really want to see you

| mingi: i’ll even pick up some takeout on my way to get you

| mingi: and i’ll drive you home tomorrow i promise

Tommorow? Well fuck. You really weren’t sure at first if he wanted you to spend the night, but that much was clear now. Sure, you probably wouldn’t get done at Arriba’s until midnight, but you thought maybe he’d just drive you home super late. But spending the night? Well, that just added a whole new level of intrigue.

| you: fine, i get off at 12. don’t be late

| mingi: wouldnt dream of it 

San was still mildly upset at you as the night went on. Well, upset wasn’t really the word, he was more worried you were gonna get your heart broken which you assured him wouldn’t happen because there were no feelings really involved here. Hell, you hadn’t even met up outside the bar yet.

But San’s poor attitude made it significantly harder to bring up this evening’s plan.

“Hey, um,” you started, not looking at him as you wiped down the table in front of you, “I, uh, don’t need a ride home tonight.” 

You glanced up to see that he’d stopped wiping down his table. 

“Ok,” he responded, resuming his cleaning.

You cringed, that response was almost worse than a lecture, and you told him that. 

He shrugged in response, “You’re an adult. I’m not going to tell you what to do. I can strongly advise you against certain things, but I’m not going to stop you,” he met your eyes, “If he makes you feel uncomfortable in any way, though, please call me, ok?”

You nodded.

“I won’t lecture you at all. I’ll just come get you.”

"Thank you, Sannie,"

✭✭✭✭

After counting down the cash and setting the alarm, you were both ready to go for the evening. You checked your phone for the time. 12:14. Below it, of course, was a message from Mingi:

| mingi: im here

[attachment: 1 image]

| mingi: and ive got food

You bid your friend farewell with a hug. When you stepped out into the parking lot, you saw Mingi leaning up against the hood of his car, food in hand. San’s eyes burned into the back of your head as you made your way over to him. Actually, you had more reason to believe he was staring at Mingi rather than at you.

He pushed himself off his car when he saw you coming. He held the food out to you, grinning. 

“What’d you get?” you asked, taking the bag from him.

He shrugged, “Just some chicken. I wasn’t sure what you liked. There’s fries in there too, and I’ve got a Coke in the car if you want it.”

“Thank you.” “Not a problem, baby,” he glanced over your shoulder, “Although…is your friend gonna be alright? He won’t stop staring.”

The butterflies you got seeing him call you “baby” over text were nothing compared to the pure giddiness that came from hearing it out loud. 

Of course, though, you had to remind yourself that you were far from the only girl whom he’d called “baby” with that voice you’d come to obsess over. This wasn’t about the use of a pet name, it was about how his voice really got you going. But just maybe you did enjoy him calling you “baby.”

“Don’t worry about him. He just doesn’t like you very much.”

“Oh, how refreshing,” Mingi rolled his eyes, but his smirk didn’t go unnoticed by you.

✭✭✭✭

After pulling his car into the parking lot and leading you up four flights of stairs (apparently, the elevator has been broken for months), you arrived at the door of Mingi’s apartment. He pulled the key from his pocket, unlocking the door and pushing it open. He turned around to usher you through the door.

“Here she is,” he mumbled.

You laughed a little, “You refer to your apartment as a ‘she.’”

He shrugged and laughed a little with you, not providing any explanation at all. 

You took a glance around the apartment, other than the bedrooms, you could see the whole thing from where you stood in the doorway. It was small, but it definitely was an adequate living situation for two college students on a budget. You walked through the kitchen, setting the leftover food on his counter since you had eaten most of it on the drive here. 

When Mingi disappeared into his bedroom, you froze just a bit. He’d seemed super casual over the phone. It was obvious that he definitely wanted to have sex with you but not at all like he’d try to force it out of you. You were kind of under the impression that the ball was in your court on that one. Maybe you had misread the situation.

Despite your confusion, you made a couple of steps toward his room only to see him emerge from the room moments later with some clothes in his.

“I figured you might want to change out of your work clothes,” he says, pushing the change of clothes into your arms. It was nothing special, a black tee and some gray basketball shorts. “If you want you can use the shower too. I cleaned it yesterday, too, so you don’t have to worry about anything.” He laughed, scratching the back of his head.

You were a little thrown off by his demeanor. Maybe the flirty Mingi you had previously been interacting with had an on-and-off switch, because, right now, he was just treating you like a friend who was crashing at his place for the evening. Not at all like the Mingi who you’d been talking to all week who was desperately trying to get into your pants.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “I actually wouldn’t mind taking a shower.”

✭✭✭✭

After you had finished your shower and, mostly, dried your hair, you and Mingi sat together on the couch. His arm rested behind your shoulders as he scrolled through different shows on the TV. 

Holy hell he smelt good. You couldn’t tell if it was just good hygiene or cologne or maybe even just fabric softener, but, nonetheless, you couldn’t help but breathe in and lean closer into his side. When he felt you lean closer, the arm around your shoulder pulled you in just a bit closer. You glanced up at his face which was still focused on the screen in front of you. Illuminated solely by the television screen and the faint light in the kitchen behind you. Your eyes traced his profile watching how his eyelashes fluttered and his tongue absentmindedly played with his lips. They looked soft. Really soft. 

Forcing yourself to stop looking at his lips, halting the dirty thoughts that began clouding your mind, you looked back up at his eyes which were focused on the screen ahead of you. Light from the TV reflected off the glassy surface of his eyes. He truly was beautiful. 

In all honesty, you felt yourself falling into dangerous territory here. Everything about this situation, him buying you dinner, letting you wear his clothes and use his shower, cuddling on his couch while his roommate was out of town. All of it screamed couple. Right? Why was he treating you like a girlfriend? You knew for a fact that wasn’t his angle here. Or at least you thought. God this was so frustrating. Why couldn’t you just relax and enjoy yourself in the arms of a beautiful man? This is why you never went home with guys. You would spend the entirety of your night micromanaging your thoughts and overanalyzing the situation. 

Subconsciously, in the midst of your chronic overthinking, you had pulled away from Mingi just a little, but it was enough for him to notice and look down at you.

“You good?” he asked. Setting the remote down on the couch next to him.

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. Maybe I should kiss him. You thought. That would make it clear what you wanted. Give him some indication. No that’s a terrible idea. And an impulsive one, too.

He found your speechlessness endearing. He laughed softly and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, brushing your jaw with his fingers and swiping his thumb softly across your cheek.

Well, fuck. You lost all restraint over yourself in that moment. 

Holding his hand against your face with your own, you leaned into him and kissed him. He hummed into the kiss, smirking slightly as his moved with your own. His lips were just as soft as you imagined. Like velvet when they passed over yours. And fuck he tasted good, you could tell he had definitely freshened up while you were in the shower. 

You sighed even further into the kiss when his hand moved down to your neck. Throwing one leg over his lap, you straddled his waist. He kissed you even harder now. Playfully biting your bottom lip. Pulling at it before kissing your chin. Then your jaw. Down your neck. All the way to your collarbone.

His hands dug into your hips much like they had when you had danced together the weekend prior. Your hands gripped his t-shirt. Failing to contain your anticipation.

“Baby,” he whispered, the depth of his voice shot straight to your core, “how far do you wanna take this?”

You whined, grateful he was defining boundaries but overwhelmed with the fact you had to tell him how you wanted it, “Please, Mingi.” You breathed out a heavy breath, “I need you.”

He smirked, his demeanor changed ever so slightly. Noted. You thought. He liked it when you begged. “Come on, baby. Tell me what you want.”

Burring your face in his neck and gripping his shirt tight, you rolled your hips. Grinding your core into him, “Mingi,” you moaned softly, “You’ll make me feel good, right?”

“Of course,” and apparently that was enough for him because, in the next moment, he pulled the shirt you were wearing over your head. Leaving your bare chest exposed to him.

He shifted you slightly. Motioning for you to lay back on the couch. You did, and he was quick to start kissing at your chest. His lips brushed over you collar bone. He kissed down your sternum and reached your belly button before coming back up to kiss your breasts.

You gripped his hair as he pulled a nipple into his mouth. Biting at it as he massaged the other one with his hand. He wasn’t wearing his rings right now, but you could only imagine how it would feel. The cold metal against your skin.

With his mouth occupied, you felt a hand slip under the waistband of your shorts and past your panties. You gasped, loudly, when he slid his finger through your folds. He hummed contently when you arched your back into him as he slid the finger into you. Adding another soon after you. 

His thumb played with your clit. Slowly. You could tell he wasn’t trying to make you cum right now. He was doing his do-diligence and prepping you. You had no doubt that he could make you cum if he wanted to or else he wouldn’t be so popular with women. You had heard stories about nights with Mingi, and everyone was always overwhelmingly positive about his skills in bed.

Your eyes rolled back slightly when he slipped a third finger into you. Mouth open in a silent moan that came out as nothing more than a little whine, you threw back your head. 

Shortly after though, he pulled his fingers out of you. He pulled off your shorts and panties together before ridding himself of his own pants and underwear too. Fuck, he was big. He smirked when he saw you looking, “You can take it. Right baby?”

You nodded breathlessly, “Mhm.”

When he hovered back over you, you gripped at his shirt. Trying to pull it over his head. He helped you out. Reaching behind his back to pull the tee over his head. You would have spent more time admiring his build but he was back to kissing you in an instant. His kisses made you so dizzy. You probably could have just kissed him for hours if you weren’t so undeniably horny. 

You were so focused on his lips that you didn’t even notice when he’d slipped on a condom. You whined when he slid his length between your folds. He held down your hips when you started to roll them. Begging for something to touch your clit that was almost throbbing for attention. 

“Don’t be so greedy, baby. I’ll take care of you.” 

And that he did. The moment he slid into you, you lost all control of yourself. Your nails dug into his back as he thrust into you. Painfully slow at first.

“Please,” you begged, “faster…” You wrapped a leg around his waist, pulling him closer.

His thumb furiously rubbed at your clit as he thrust into you. Faster and deeper with every movement of his hips. You gripped at anything you could, his shoulders, his hair, his back. 

You were so undeniably lost in your own pleasure. Your mind was foggy. All you could think about was this beautiful man, furiously fucking you, grunting in your ear, and breathing on your neck. 

Even though you thought it was impossible, his thumb moved fasted on your clit. When he hit just the right angle you cried out, and he could feel you tighten around him. 

“Oh?” he asked between pants, “Right there?”

“Fuck! Yes, right there!” your head lolled to the side as you felt your orgasm approaching. Your legs shook as they wrapped around his waist, holding him close. With one final movement of his thumb, you came around him. Your walls fluttered as you reached that incredible high. “Oh god!” You cried out. 

“Shit,” he grunted, “I’m close, baby. Hold on.” With a couple more thrusts into your sensitive pussy, he came into the condom. 

He fell forward on top of you. His arms or either side of your head held him up so he wasn’t crushing you. Your chests both heaved. 

“Wow,” you said, breathlessly.

He laughed and kissed you softly, “Was it good?”

You nodded, “Great.”

When you looked into his eyes, his beautiful eyes, you momentarily forgot that you were not supposed to get your feelings wrapped up in this. Sirens rang in your head as he kissed you again, but, if he was gonna fuck you this good, you could ignore them for just a little longer.

✭✭✭✭

note ✭ ayyeeee it's done!! i honestly don't know how considering i have midtrems this week 😅 anyways, this has been in the drafts for about two months, and i'm glad i finally decided to start it!

if you enjoyed, please let me know! i absolutely LOVE hearing feedback whether it be through my inbox, comments or reblogs.

not sure when the next chapter will be released, but if you want to join the taglist you can lmk here or sign up here :)

[candy-heart-brew]

I've seen some fans theorize that the lyrics to "Bug-a-Bye and Goodnight" tie into Frank's developing relationship with Eddie, potentially foreshadowing a grisly end for a favorite mailman. The lyrics are incredibly emotional and poor Frank sounds like he's fighting back tears during this entire record, making it feel like there's something more going on under the surface. While it's entirely possible that this is meant to foreshadow Frank and Eddie eventually being separated, I think the song's symbolism could be pointing to a different direction...

I touched a bit on this in a different post but to summarize: the attitude that Frank displays during "Bug-a-Bye and Goodnight" is completely at odds to his reaction to Eddie at the party. During BaBaG he's sad but resigned to fate, he knows that hibernation is inevitable but takes a bit of comfort in the knowledge that it's only temporary and that his loneliness will only last through winter. So, he does his best to power through, keep his personal feelings out of it, and assure his little friends that he'll be alright.

By contrast, his reaction to Eddie's behavior at the party is one of panic and confusion. He doesn't understand what's happening to Eddie or why he's suddenly gone unresponsive, he just knows that he isn't acting like himself at all and he can't accept that. He refuses to leave Eddie alone even after being ignored, continuing to push until he gets a response, at which point he immediately realizes something is wrong and tries to push further, only stopping when Eddie leaves. At this point in the story they don't appear to be especially close but Frank's terrified reaction speaks volumes about his true feelings for Eddie. And if this is how he reacts to him being quieter than usual, I can't imagine that he'd be much calmer or more composed in the event of losing Eddie altogether. IMO, he's far more likely to get angry and demand answers rather than wax poetic. So while "Bug-a-Bye and Goodnight" could potentially foreshadow Eddie's fate, Frank's subdued reaction makes me question that interpretation. I do think there's a deeper meaning to BaBaG, that Frank is singing about something other than bugs, just not Eddie. But then who? Well, as we found out in this last update, bugs are not the only creatures in the neighborhood that hibernate...

Think about it for a moment- Julie is going to be gone for months, leaving Frank all alone without his best friend. Who's going to invite him to games now? Who's going to listen to him about his interests and laugh at his jokes? Who's going to bake gelatin monstrosities with him? Julie is practically his other half so to lose her for months on end must be very difficult for him! He knows that she can't help it and he doesn't blame her but that hardly makes it any easier. All he can really do now is just push that sadness down, wish her goodnight, and wait for her to return.

Under this interpretation, certain lyrics in BaBaG take on a different meaning to me. Lines like "I know it's for the best, I can't keep you," or "I'll be the first to tell you, you just can't stay," could imply an oncoming rift between the two of them. The recent updates have implied that Frank and Julie were written to be a couple and were perceived as such in-universe. We don't yet know how the two of them felt about that but we do know that they were very close to the point of doing basically everything together! But now Frank is falling in love with someone else, someone who may very well come to eclipse Julie in terms of importance to him. No matter how much he loves her, no matter how much they might want to stay together, there are some things you just can't fight and this play-relationship they have can't last forever...

But that's just my interpretation!

[teapartyprincess4two]

Candy- C. Sturniolo

pairing: influencer!reader x Chris

classification: fluff

warnings: Latina reader, use of Spanish (brief), use of y/n, mention of alcohol, suggestive content but no smut, online scandal

translations: pendeja- dumbass (feminine)

inspiration: Candy by Plan B

summary: You were sweet as candy and Chris couldn’t stop himself from taking a bite, leading to an internet scandal neither of you anticipated.

—

Influencer parties were never Chris’s thing, he usually just let himself get dragged along for appearances. Today is one of those days, he got ready and acted excited, but deep down all he wanted to do was go back home. Currently, he’s making his rounds around the event, dabbing people up and introducing himself to the strangers he hasn’t met yet.

As he walks around the crowded party with his brothers, he realizes that there’s more unfamiliar faces than he accounted for. Maybe he’s seen a video of theirs once or twice, but for the most part he has no idea who these people are.

Nick finds a friend and disappears amidst the crowd, dancing to the beat of the music as he follows his friend towards a different area of the house. Matt has started a conversation with someone he recognized, bonding with them over God knows what. Chris lingered around Matt for a while, debating whether he should insert himself in the conversation or not, but it sounded boring and there was sure to be something more interesting at this party.

So, he allows himself to wander around, grabbing a drink along the way. Candy by Plan B plays loudly over the speakers, shaking the walls with each beat. He’s never heard this song before, but he makes a mental note to add it to his playlist, bopping his head slightly to the music. Chris takes a long swig of his beer, eyes scanning the room for something or someone interesting.

The room is crowded, the music is loud, and the strobing lights don’t help him recognize anyone. He walks further into the crowd, holding his beer by the neck as he weaves past sweaty people. He’s about to give up and walk back to where he left Matt, but that’s when he sees you.

You’re in the middle of the room, dancing shamelessly to the song. You’re swaying your hips, grinding against a friend as your hair falls in front of your face. Despite the commotion surrounding him, Chris feels the world stop. He’s never seen someone so beautiful, and maybe it’s the alcohol, but he’s instantly addicted to you. In that moment he made it his mission to learn your name and get your number.

You feel Chris’s watch on you, following the burning sensation until your eyes lock with his. You don’t know who he is, but you’re immediately in awe. He was so handsome that if this was a cartoon you’d have heart eyes.

You continue dancing, looking Chris up and down with a slight smirk before finally prying your eyes away. Just because he was cute didn’t mean you weren’t going to make him work for it. He senses the challenge and mentally accepts it, ready to do whatever it takes to make you his. The song fades out, a completely different beat playing over the speakers as Rompe by Daddy Yankee plays.

You’re swiveling your hips to the song, turning towards your friends as you begin singing the lyrics to each other. Chris takes another swig of his beer, finishing it off for some liquid courage before finally walking over to you. “Look who’s coming,” your friend comments, her eyes darting behind you to signal at Chris.

Usually you’d find boldness like Chris’s obnoxious and creepy, but he had a certain charm to him that made up for it. Before you knew it, you found yourself drunkenly dancing with him, his hands on your hips and yours around his neck. The alcohol, loud music, and his ability to dance on beat is enough to convince you that you’ve found the man of your dreams.

“What’s your name?” he shouts over the music, hands holding you in place as you grind against him. Chris feels like he’s in heaven, he’s never had a girl this hot this close to him, let alone grinding on him. “Y/n,” you exclaim as he leans into you so he can hear you better. “I’m Chris!” he replies, face so close to yours that his breath is fanning across your neck.

Despite the loud music, the moment is intimate and it feels like you and Chris are the only two people in the room. He pulls away from your ear, keeping his face close enough for your noses to touch while you dance. Before he can stop himself, he’s leaning in for a sloppy, drunk kiss. His hands are all over your body and yours are tangled in his hair.

You’re making out, grinding against each other as loud reggaeton plays in the background. The alcohol running through your veins caused you to forget that this isn’t just a random party, this is an influencer party; where everyone knows everyone, and everyone knows Chris. But the room is so chaotic that neither of you notice people taking pictures, the strobing lights serving as a mask for the nosy onlookers. They sneakily snap pictures and take videos, posting them online in a matter of seconds for the world to see.

At this point, you’ve been dancing with Chris for hours, both of you becoming a sweaty, drunk mess. People kept taking pictures, all of them trying to get their 15 minutes of fame by creating a scandal. If it weren’t for your friend who managed to pull you away, you would’ve stayed clung to Chris for the whole night. You were so drunk that you would’ve surely led him to a room and created an even bigger mess for yourself.

“Girl you can’t be dancing with that dude,” she says, dragging you outside of the party and to the car. “What? Why not?” your words are slurred, your heels clacking on the pavement as you struggle to keep up. Just moments before you were dancing expertly, but now you can’t even remember which foot is left and which is right. “Because he’s famous, pendeja,” she quips back, pulling you along aggressively towards the car. Who cares if he’s famous? He’s fucking hot.

“So? I’m famous too,” you’re slurring your words, stumbling with each step.

It’s true, you had your own group of fans, but you were a fairly new content creator. So, even if you were ‘famous,’ you weren’t as popular as Chris. “Exactly my point, bitch. Everyone was taking pictures of you guys. That’s gonna look so bad on you,” she says, throwing her hands up in the air. She was still pretty sober, leaving you on the dance floor to use the restroom and getting distracted along the way, only to come back to you grinding on a stranger.

When her hands flail in the air, she lets go of you causing you to lose your balance and fall on the grass lawn. She looks down at you annoyed, “Girl, oh my God. Get up.” Her hands wrap around your arms, using all her strength to hoist you up.

Your friend explained the situation to you, going into full detail about the story and of how she obtained the information in the first place. You’re so drunk that if all sounds like jibberish to you, but you listen anyways. Apparently she heard from a friend of a friend that Chris was extremely famous, he and his brothers sharing a YouTube channel that amassed over 6 million subscribers. These numbers didn’t really matter to you, you were never the type to measure someone’s worth based on followers, but it obviously mattered to your friend.

You were tuning her out now, your mind occupied with thoughts of Chris; his lips against yours, his hands that roamed your body, his body heat while you two danced to the music.

If the internet wanted to cancel you for having fun with a hot guy that you’d probably never see again, so be it.

—

Two days have passed since that party and Chris’s phone has been going crazy because of those pictures, there’s even videos of the two of you practically undressing each other mid dance floor. He was so drunk that he hardly remembers that night at all and he didn’t even manage to get your number because your friend pulled you away before he could ask. Although he hates the negative attention the videos and photos have brought, he can’t stop watching them.

“You need to fucking fix this,” Nick says through gritted teeth, scrolling on his laptop. Their Instagram DM’s, YouTube comments, emails, Snapchat messages, all of it was full to the brim with crazed fans. There were even YouTube drama channels reacting and talking about the photos, claiming that this was the ‘downfall of the Sturniolo Triplets.’

Nick pulls up the main photo everyone is going crazy over, enlarging it so it takes up the whole laptop screen. In the photo Chris’s hands are firmly gripping your ass, fingers ending right below your dress. Your right hand is tangled in his hair, the left one holding onto his bicep for support. The two of you are locking lips, and because you were dancing, the picture is blurry, but there’s no doubt that it’s Chris in the picture. There’s even less doubt that it’s you, your outfit matching the one you posted on your Instagram just hours before the party.

“Dude you’re fucked,” Matt chuckles as he shakes his head at Chris, he found the situation slightly amusing. “It’s not funny, Matt. Read these comments,” Nick responds, tilting the laptop so Matt can do a once over. Matt’s eyes gloss over the screen, reading so many messages that all said the same thing, ‘who is she and why is she with Chris?’

“They can’t be that bad,” Chris finally says, glancing at the laptop from over Matt’s shoulder. After reading about 5 messages he realizes that they were that bad, the fans were actually going insane over these photos. They managed to find your social media and kept tagging you in posts, one of the notifications popping up on the screen as Chris reads comments. “Wait click that,” Chris instructs, pointing towards the right hand corner of the laptop.

Nick clicks the notification swiftly, managing to catch it before it was replaced by another one. The notification leads them to your Instagram account, your aesthetic and page layout immediately jogging Chris’s memory. Suddenly he remembers every detail from that night, Candy by Plan B playing in his head as images of you flash through his mind.

“Is this her?” Matt asks, shooing Nick’s hand off the mousepad so he can scroll through your account. Your account was full of photo dumps; all of them including pictures of you with friends, family, out partying, and a lot of provocative selfies. There was a sexy, mysterious edge to you that could put anyone in a trance, and it was evident in your suggestive poses and the amount of likes under each post. Matt clicks on one of the photos, you’re wearing a little black dress and holding a beer, sitting on a lounge chair outside of a bustling party.

It was the exact dress from that night, and Matt instantly recognizes the background as the same venue from the party. Your legs and chest are visible, black pumps and a gold necklace on full display; all of them being the same details from Chris’s scandalous photo. “Dude you’re so fucked!” Matt reiterates loudly with a laugh, zooming into the background of the picture.

In the background, among other drunk people, you can faintly see Chris, Matt, and Nick. Chris squints his eyes at the screen, trying to see if he was distinguishable in the photo, but he clearly was. He couldn’t lie his way out of this situation even if he tried, all the evidence pointed directly at him.

“Fuck!” He groans, running an anxious hand through his hair. What the fuck was he going to do? What if this singular night and these photos managed to ruin their career?

Matt laughs, he understands that this is stressful, but even he had to agree that you were hot, “Dude, don’t worry. I’d get cancelled for her too.” Chris sends him a warning look and Nick rolls his eyes, this was no time for jokes.

Nick takes control of the laptop again, opening up a chat with you. “Wait, what are you doing?!” Chris asks immediately, watching as Nick types up a lengthy message. “Fixing your damn mistake,” he replies, pressing send without hesitation. Chris groans, facepalming as he thinks of what that message would lead to.

“Like I said dude, you’re fuuuucked,” Matt comments in a sing song tone, chuckling as he retreats to his room. Nick shuts the laptop, standing from the table and doing the same, grumbling a “fucking dumbass” as he walks upstairs.

Chris is left to think about the situation, mind replaying that night on loop. Although he doesn’t regret it, he feels like a high schooler getting in trouble for having a girl over and locking the door.

He was a grown man, he could kiss as many strangers as he wanted, but he still couldn’t help but wonder what he was supposed to do now.

—

Despite all the comments and backlash you were receiving, you didn’t learn your lesson. Instead of hiding from the world, you dolled yourself up for another night out. Your outfit is sensual, it screams ‘I don’t care what you think about me,’ and turns heads when you walk in a room.

You were still in the infancy stage of your career as an influencer, and if you’ve learned one thing from watching your friends get involved in scandals it’s that these things come and go. Tomorrow something more exciting will entertain people and they’ll forget all about you, so why stop having fun?

The strings of your thong peak from above your low rise jeans, a fitted crop top hugging your figure perfectly. You’ve styled your hair and done your makeup, ready to get drunk and ruin it with more mistakes at yet another influencer party. Hopefully Chris would be there too, not only because you’d love to dance with him again, but because you need to talk about the elephant in the room.

Of course you didn’t really care how this affected your career, but you knew that he and his brothers would take a slight hit from this. They were more established in this field, people held high expectations of them and scandals like this only tainted their image.

You do a once over of your outfit in the mirror, making any last minute finishing touches before walking downstairs. As you’re making your way downstairs, you grab your purse and begin shoving random things in there, your phone being one of them. The phone vibrates in your hand indicating a notification, nothing out of the ordinary especially right now, and when you inspect it your eyes just gloss over your phone before turning it off.

It was a message from the ‘triplets,’ apologizing for their fans behavior and for the entire scandal, even inviting you to meet in person to discuss what comes next. If you weren’t so excited to go out, and if you would’ve clicked the message, you would’ve realized that it was from the actual triplets and not a troll account. But at this point you’ve received so many notifications just like it from a plethora of sources, so you didn’t pay it any mind.

Instead of stressing yourself out, you shove your phone in your purse and walk out the door to meet your friends. You were going to enjoy your night with or without a scandal.

—

Chris is apprehensive, not sure if he should join Matt and Nick on their night out, especially not after what happened last time. Matt and Nick are dressed and ready, waiting for Chris in the living room so they can leave. Maybe attending another influencer party so soon after the scandal wasn’t the best idea, but Matt already promised he’d go and Nick had friends texting him asking if he was coming. So, if Chris didn’t want to go that was fine, but the other two were definitely making an appearance.

Chris is torn between two choices: stay home and protect his image or attend this party in hopes of seeing you again. He chews on his cheek, mulling the decision over before mumbling a quiet, “fuck it,” and getting dressed. Everyone was already raining hell fire on him, what difference did it make if he made mistakes now?

He throws on a casual outfit, ruffling his hair in the mirror before exiting his room and jogging up the stairs. Matt and Nick look up from their phones once they sense Chris’s presence, a little shocked that he’s joining them.

“Alright, I’m ready. Let’s go,” Chris comments nonchalantly, tilting his head towards the door to encourage the other two to get up. Nick is more conscious of his actions than Chris is, and he knows that as soon as Chris enters that party all eyes are going to be on him. And, if you’re already there, the attention this’ll bring is worse. “Don’t you think you should-“ Nick begins, but Chris cuts him off because he knows where this is going and he doesn’t want to chicken out now.

“I said I’m ready. Let’s fucking go.”

Matt rolls his eyes at Chris’s tough guy act, grabbing his keys and walking past him, “Watch your fucking mouth, kid.” Chris ignores him, following closely behind him as they walk downstairs and out the door. He suddenly feels excited, he can’t wait to get drunk and lose all his inhibitions.

—

The party is like any other, full of drunk people and loud music, the smell of alcohol and weed being the only thing wafting through the air. Chris was excited on the car ride there, but as soon as he hops out of the car he can feel everyone’s eyes on him, and that’s when the anxiety kicks in. What the fuck was he thinking? That he could saunter into this party and go unnoticed?

Chris tightens his jaw, trying to keep his composure and show zero signs of weakness. People are murmuring, pointing, some of them even laughing. If Chris didn’t have Nick and Matt at his side he would surely break and let the anxiety consume him. The three of them are doing their rounds, greeting friends and grabbing drinks along the way: the usual. Chris wills the bad thoughts away, taking a swig of his beer as his eyes scan the room.

Last time he was scanning the room for anything or anyone exciting, this time he’s scanning the room for one person; you. He hasn’t been able to spot you in the crowd, and after the scandal he dragged you into, he wouldn’t blame you for not showing up. Chris takes another long swig of his beer, practically chugging the drink as he tries easing his nerves with the alcohol.

“Go slow with that shit,” Nick comments with a scoff, pointing at the beer that was already halfway finished. Chris holds his hands up in defense, he definitely had to pace himself tonight, especially with so many haters lurking around every corner. “I’m gonna go find my friend, don’t do anything stupid,” Nick continues with a warning glare, pushing past Chris and disappearing into the crowd

Chris’s eyes follow Nick, watching as his figure weaves between people until he’s no longer in view. He allows his eyes to scan the room one last time, mentally claiming that if he doesn’t find you then it wasn’t meant to be. Just as his eyes reach the far left corner, and he’s about to give up, he sees you. He swears he feels his heart skip a beat, butterflies in his stomach, and heat rise to his cheeks.

You’re sitting on the arm of the couch, legs crossed and rocking back and forth as you groove to the music. In your hands is a cold beer, you take small sips from it in between conversation with your friend. Chris is silently grateful that you’re here with a friend and not another guy because it means he stands a chance with you. Usually he wouldn’t be psyching himself out this much, but you were easily the prettiest girl in the room, he’d even go as far to say that you were the prettiest girl at the party.

“I’ll be back,” Chris says to Matt, slapping his brothers back and abandoning the group he was standing with as he walks towards you. Matt, who was previously engaged in a conversation, is now watching Chris intently. Either Chris was going to come out as the underdog who got the girl, or he was going to make an idiot of himself and become a viral sensation once again. The group Matt is standing with is watching too, ready to watch Chris fail to impress you and walk back defeated.

Chris pushes past dancing couples, apologizing to anyone he bumps into as he walks towards you. His eyes are locked on you, afraid that if he looks way you’ll disappear and become a figment of his imagination. You’re too busy talking to your friend to notice Chris approaching, one of your arms rests on the back of the couch as you lean into your friend. The music is loud, the lights are blinding, and the alcohol is beginning to muddle your senses.

When you pull away from your friend you see him, standing so dangerously close to you that if it were anyone else you’d be startled. But for some reason you feel comfortable, you feel like you’ve known Chris for forever and he’s just a friend coming to say hi. So that’s what you do.

“Oh! Hi,” a big smile grows on your face, the alcohol making you extra confident and cheery. Chris chuckles, finding your drunken state only slightly amusing. “Hi,” he replies with a goofy smile, taking a step closer to you on the couch.

He’s now standing in between your legs, gentle hands landing on your thighs before he continues, “our kiss broke the internet, huh?” You laugh, Chris had an unmatched charm to him that could make anyone fall in love.

“Tryna break it again?” you ask, feeling extra bold now that he’s standing so close. He smirks knowing that in that moment, despite all the online drama and rumors, he came out with the girl. “We can try,” he replies coyly, leaning into your touch as he allows his lips to hover over yours.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, the music, or the crowd of people watching, but Chris feels the need to claim you as his in front of everyone at this party. His lips attach to yours, both of you moulding together as Candy by Plan B plays in the background.

You were sweet as candy and Chris couldn’t help but take a bite.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

Latinas for Chris🚨Latinas for Chris🚨

Had this one in the drafts for a while. I just had to write something for my Latina girlies 😋

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

[sage-nebula]

"Suffer No Fools" - Shiver vs. Marina Analysis

It's been a few days since "Suffer No Fools" released, but I wanted to go ahead and release my analysis of Shiver's and Marina's verse since that's the one that has caused the most discussion within the fandom. I've seen a lot of debate over Marina's section in particular, with people unsure whether she was being sincere or sarcastic, and I think the actual answer is a little more complicated than one or the other, at least with regards to the first couplet of lines both she and Shiver sing. Of course, people are free to interpret this song however they wish, but after seeing numerous interpretations I personally didn't vibe with, I just wanted to put my own out there, breaking it down line by line.

So! Here we go.

Exchange 1:

Shiver: "Your haunting voice -- there's no escape. How nice it must be for your fans." Marina: "You're far too kind! I love your vibe. I can learn so much from your style."

Analyzing from dialogue only:

Shiver is insulting Marina's voice by calling it haunting and saying there is no escape, insinuating she wishes there was one. She says how nice it must be for Marina's fans, again implying that she isn't one.

Marina says that she loves Shiver's vibe, which on the surface could be a compliment, but given the context (a music battle) it could also be a Mean Girl "ooh I love your [thing] :)" passive-aggressive drawing-attention-to-something-ugly insult. More direct though, is the "I can learn so much from your style"; you can learn what not to do from someone just as much as you can learn what to do from someone. Marina's engaging in plausible deniability here.

HOWEVER. Lyrics are NOT the only thing that need to be analyzed from this first verse, which is arguably the MOST important exchange between these two. Instead, we need to look at how these lines are delivered.

Shiver is singing in a traditional Japanese folk singing style, specifically a style based on Shima-uta, which her voice actress has a background singing in. Unfortunately, I don't know the actual term for this style of singing, only that it's not kakegoe, something Shiver also does that is different from this. Anyway, in these lines specifically Shiver is singing in her Shima-uta style, a style that she has presumably been practicing since she was a small child, a style that is probably culturally significant to the Hohojiro clan. Singing in this style is not something that just anyone can do. It's completely different from singing in a (for lack of a better word) "western" style. The way you breathe is completely different. The way you incorporate your voice into your breathing is completely different. So by singing in this style, which Shiver has been doing practically her whole life and which, presumably, only she of the four there can do, Shiver is FLEXING on Marina regardless of what lyrics she chooses to sing.

But then Marina, who grew up under the domes in Inkadia, who presumably has never heard Shima-uta before she started listening to Deep Cut and heard Shiver sing, who presumably has had absolutely no training whatsoever on this style of song . . . mimics it perfectly and flexes on Shiver right back.

Could Marina's words to Shiver be interpreted as passive-aggressive in turn? Yes. But does it matter? No, not really. Because in this first verse, Marina's ACTUAL comeback is to take the style of singing that Shiver has been perfecting her entire life and throw it right back in her face despite having never (as far as we or Shiver know) practiced it herself. Shiver was flexing by presumably doing something Marina couldn't do, only for Marina to do it flawlessly, being every bit as divine with a voice so fine as Pearl said she was previously. Marina says "I love your vibe" so she takes it. Marina says "I have so much to learn from you" but does she really, when she can already do exactly what Shiver can, and has, just now, right in front of her?

And Shiver noticed, hence:

Exchange 2:

Shiver: "You remind me of my neighbor's little daughter . . . What's that saying? 'Octo see, octo do.'" Marina: "Glad you approve -- your praise has left me moved. Thanks to your notes, I'll find my groove!"

Shiver drops the Shima-uta singing, because now there's no point. Marina can also sing in that style, so it's no longer a flex. Shiver lost ground on that one, so instead we're back to the same (again, for lack of a better word) "regular" style of singing that everyone else is using. For that reason, we can go back to analyzing purely based on the words alone.

Shiver is calling Marina a copycat, essentially, because Marina copied her Shima-uta singing style in the previous verse (hence why Shiver had to drop it, as previously noted). Marina then gives her "glad you approve -- your praise has left me moved" . . . basically noting that by Shiver accusing her of copying, Shiver is saying that Marina -- someone who just tried the singing style off the cuff right there on the stage for the first time -- was just as good as Shiver, someone who has trained in that style her whole life. The audience saw for themselves that Marina was able to emulate the style, but Shiver saying, "you copied me!" is basically admitting that Marina was just as good as her in Shiver's own eyes, and Shiver is a pro. That's Shiver's aggravation handing Marina the win and Marina smiling wide as she accepts it.

Exchange 3:

Shiver: "Oh, look at the time. Isn't it getting late?" Marina: "Not at all! I could go on like this all night long."

This one doesn't even really need an analysis. For all that she prides herself on being "so cool even sharks call her cold-blooded," Shiver is known for being easily irritated and riled when she's losing due to her competitive nature. Marina successfully got under her skin, and this is her trying to end the battle fast because she didn't have any further comebacks. Marina, meanwhile, gives the classic "I could go on all night" because she's not riled at all, and is instead perfectly comfortable in this environment, knows what she's doing, and has had the upper hand from the start.

It goes back to another post I made about Experience vs. Inexperience. Shiver and Frye are still new idols, whereas Pearl and Marina have been at this for a long while. And while off the stage Marina is a sweet, kind, gentle person who will go out of her way to help others, and can sometimes be a little spacey or naive, she's also a 23-year-old literal genius who has been in the music industry for years now and knows full well what a rap / music battle is and knows her way around a stage. Personally, I found it to be a little infantilizing to insinuate that she "didn't realize Shiver was insulting her," when not only do I think she knew full well, but also she was the one with the upper hand not because of sick burns (that's Pearl's department), but because of sheer innate musical talent.

But those are just my thoughts! Everyone else is free to have their own.

[wqnwoos]

jeonghan is staring at you from across the room with unnatural intensity, and you don’t know how to point it out without being rude.

because, on the off chance that you’re mistaken and he’s actually transfixed by the appealingly blank wall above your head, it would be embarrassing. horrendously, irremediably embarrassing.

but you know yoon jeonghan like the back of your hand, and so you don’t think you’re mistaken. in fact, you think you know him better than the back of your hand, because if someone actually asked you to describe the back of your hand, you’d be fucked — but if someone asked you to describe jeonghan, you could wax lyrical.

you could tell them about how you met, three years ago. (freshman orientation, a haze of embarrassment and icebreakers.) you could tell them about his coffee order (black) and his favourite colour (also black) and the classes he hates and the classes he loves. you could tell them about how his eyes have a certain light to them, something you’ve never seen in anyone before, animated and effulgent and brilliant. you could tell them about his family; his friends; the way his fingers slot between yours; the way he laughs when he means it and the way he laughs when he doesn’t.

you could also tell this hypothetical someone that you’ve been in love with jeonghan for the past two years. and that he is totally, completely, utterly oblivious.

“your apartment’s ugly.”

(you could also tell them that he has a knack for being honest at entirely the wrong time, and you’re pretty sure he does it on purpose.)

“you know,” you say, dragging yourself out of your thoughts, “when most people want to break a silence, they ask a question or something.”

he doesn’t deign to respond.

“insults tend to be a last resort,” you add helpfully.

“not an insult,” he returns leisurely, sprawling across your couch, draping his legs over your lap. “you just need some life in here.”

“i’m alive. you’re alive. we’re both in here.” you shove his legs off. “besides. i just moved in.”

“you should get a lizard.”

your lack of surprise is a testament to how long you’ve been friends. “i’m not getting a lizard. are you hungry?”

“you could call it… barney.”

“i feel like having pizza.”

“or maybe lola, if it’s a girl. lola is nice.”

“i think we’re having two completely different conversations here,” you decide. and push his legs off you. again.

but this time, in a fluid movement you don’t fully comprehend the mechanics of, he swivels his body so his head rests in your lap.

it’s the simplest of movements, and somehow you feel like you can’t breathe. time slows and speeds all at once — heart in your throat, eyes on his for all of a moment and a half. you almost hate when he does this; such casual affection sends you reeling.

it takes you a moment to recover, and you realise he’s talking; “what?” you blurt. “i didn’t hear you.”

he casts you a strange look, but doesn’t comment. “pizza is fine, i said.”

“okay,” you reply, a second too late. “i’ll, uh. order that. now, i mean.”

jeonghan gazes intently up at you, long hair splayed on your thighs, brown eyes tinged with the faintest concern. “you’re being weird,” he says, but soft enough to come out worried — caring, more than anything. “is everything okay?”

you think back to him staring at you, just a few minutes ago. you think back to his legs on your lap with casual familiarity. you think back to freshman orientation too, the memory of his easy smile and shorter hair.

you try to think back to the moment you fell in love with him, but you can’t pinpoint that. that was less of a fall, more of a slow, inevitable realisation.

you force a smile. “everything’s fine.”

“your pants, ___,” he says, a wry smile tugging up his lips. “they are on fire.”

“i’m not lying,” you say, in a way that is so obviously and blatantly a lie. there’s a reason you’re not majoring in theatre, and it lies in your inability to keep up a facade when pressed.

jeonghan usually doesn’t press, so you’re not sure why he’s like this now — laid across your lap so you can’t look away, only breaking his gaze for those slow, lazy blinks.

“i’m gonna order that pizza.” your voice sounds hollow, even to you, so it’s not really a surprise when jeonghan sits up and takes your hand to stop you moving away.

“wait a bit,” he says, tenderness — softness, even — seeping into his voice. “i just want to say. i know.”

fuck.

your voice quavers ever so slightly. “you know? what do you know?”

as if it isn’t obvious. as if you aren’t obvious. it’s only taken two years of pining for you to get to this point; for him to get to this realisation; for you to face this rejection.

“i know,” he says softly, carefully, “about your feelings. for me, i mean.”

there’s a silence that seems to stretch forever. but it’s not more than three seconds, maximum.

“feelings of strong hatred and ill will, maybe,” you finally say, a swift rebuttal of the conversation you think he wants to have. i’m sorry, i didn’t know you felt that way, i didn’t mean to…. you’re not doing this — not with him.

jeonghan still has your hand encased in his, fiddling with your fingers, tracing palm lines as he speaks. “i’m being serious. i just don’t know how to say — how to say what i want. not well enough.”

“jeonghan,” you sigh, because it seems that you are doing this. “you don’t have to — ”

“i love you.”

it’s odd, what three simple words can do to a person. time doesn’t quite slow down, but suddenly you are so acutely aware of everything. the clock on your wall that’s been stuck on 3:52pm since you put it up. the lightbulb jeonghan has promised to change for you is flickering. his hand is warm and soft and comfortable, and it’s still holding onto yours.

there’s a small smile working its way up your face. you don’t feel breathless, like you imagined you might. you feel like a weight has been eased off your ribcage; and under it, your heart feels full, so incredibly full. “you’re serious?”

jeonghan smiles back at you, that inexpressible light filling his eyes. “am i ever not?”

“you never are,” you say, but you’re laughing, recklessly leaning into him, curling against him in a way you’ve done a million times before, but never quite like this. you’ve never been able to press a kiss to the side of his jaw, never been able to feel him reciprocate with one on your temple — until now.

“are you not going to say it back?” he murmurs, smiling against your hair.

“do i need to?” you ask, angling back to look at him with mirth in your eyes. “you know, don’t you?”

an / i have finally written (and posted) something and i HATE it i’m sorry.

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting @yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9 @lightnjng @strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura

[inkmonster21]

Short n’ Sweet 💋

Hugh Jackman x Fem!Sister!Reynolds!Reader

Warnings: smut (oral fem receiving)

A/N: I’m a mess over this man. I’ve loved him since I was 10 and he STILL looks fine asf!

Short n’ Sweet Masterlist

Who’s the Cute Boy in the White Jacket?

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You sit on your couch scrolling on your phone when your front door opens and your older brother Ryan walks in.

Ryan grins as he sees you sitting on the couch, his tall form filling the doorway for a moment before he strides into the room. "Hey, kiddo," he says affectionately, a playful smile on his sharp features. “I tried to call you.” He takes note of the phone in your hand. “You’re either too busy being a star, or just completely ignored my call."

“I ignored it.” You say without even looking in his direction. Ryan chuckles and plops down on the couch next to you, slinging an arm around your shoulders in a brotherly manner. He grins cheekily at you, his eyes sparkling. “I could have been dying. And here you are, scrolling on tinder without a care.” You roll your eyes and lock your phone. “I’m looking for inspiration. I just want to get this album done. Every song I have is just… sad and kinda cringy.” You groan as you fall into the couch pillows.

Ryan chuckles and pats you on the head, amused by your groan. He knows how demanding the entertainment industry can be, and his protective instincts kick in a little.

"I hear you, kid," he says sympathetically. "Albums can be a grind. But hey, once it's done, it'll be worth it, right? Your fans are gonna love it." You shrug, still unsure of most of the songs. “It’s all about the Shawn drama.” You say as you look over the lyrics to some of the songs. “Just wish I could get some different type do muse. Heartbreak has been so over done. I wrote all these when I actually cared about him and what happened.”

Ryan's smile turns a bit softer as he notices your struggle. He knew better than anyone how difficult it could be to find genuine inspiration when you were under so much pressure.

"Ah, the Shawn drama," he says, rolling his eyes a little at the mention of your ex. "That dude is such an ass. But don’t let that get in the way of your creativity. You'll find the right nitch, I know it."

“Are you and Blake still coming to the show?” You were opening for Taylor Swift on her Era’s tour. Ryan nods eagerly, visibly thrilled about your upcoming opportunity.

"Are you kidding?" he exclaims, grinning from ear to ear. "We wouldn't miss it for the world, kiddo. Seeing you open for T Swifty? It’s been forever since I was able to start a mosh pit to love story.”

You point a finger at him, “Now, I don’t want to hear any complaints about my choreography.” Ryan chuckles, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "I promise not to complain. But if it involves twerking and pole dancing, I might need bleach for my eyes."

You laugh and throw a pillow at him. Ryan laughs along with you, dodging the pillow with a quick move. He grins at you, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Careful, kid," he teases, reaching out to ruffle your hair. "I'll have to tell your fans that you're nothing but an oversized child."

You shrug, “That’s fine. I’ll say I get it from you!” Ryan grins at your comment, pretending to be offended.

"Me?" he exclaims with mock indignation, placing a hand over his heart. "Excuse me, I am the epitome of maturity and responsibility."

You roll your eyes “sure, Deadpool.” Ryan grins even wider, enjoying the banter.

"Hey, I'm a mature adult and a responsible father," he points out, feigning seriousness. "Just because I happen to have a sense of humor gifted from the gods does not mean I'm immature. Besides, you're one to talk about maturity. You're still singing about your ex-boyfriend," he teases.

You scoff. “Well maybe I’ll get a new boyfriend to write about.” Ryan grins wolfishly, sensing an opportunity to tease you further. He props his feet up on the coffee table, lounging back on the couch in a relaxed manner.

"Oh really?" he says, raising an eyebrow at you. "And who might that be? One of those young pretty-boy singers who follow you around like a lost puppy?”

You shrug, “maybe. Have to make sure to train him up good. Pee pads, food bowl, walks, the works.” Ryan laughs and gives you a sly smile, continuing to tease you.

"Oh, I see. What's next, a collaboration with one of them? A love song about puppy dog eyes, floppy haircuts, and carpet burns?"

Your phone rings and you assistants name shows on the screen. Ryan notices you pick up your phone and sees your assistant's name on the display. He looks at you curiously.

"Who's calling?" he asks, tilting his head at you. “Megan.” You say as you answer. Ryan listens intently as you answer the call, leaning closer, his curiosity piqued. He watches you talk, trying to figure out what's going on from your side of the conversation. “I’ve got to go to rehearsal early.” Ryan nods, understanding the demands of a busy work schedule.

"No worries, kiddo," he says, standing up as well. "You go do your thing. We'll see you at the concert. I’m going to wear my sequin top and cut off shorts."

You nod with a smile to your older brother, never being able to take him seriously. “You’ll look so good, Ry.”

"Break a leg, kid. And don't forget to send me some backstage photos.” Ryan waves as he exits your apartment.

As he walks out of the lobby his phone rings. Ryan glances at his phone, seeing Hugh's name on the display. He quickly answers the call, curious about what Hugh might want.

"Hey, Hugh," he greets in a cheerful tone. Hugh smiles at the sound of Ryan's voice. He has a pleasant and friendly demeanor.

"Hey, Ryan. How are you doing, mate?" he asks, his voice tinged with a hint of excitement. “Good. Good. Going home from my sister’s place. Had to see her before the big show.” Hugh nods, understanding the bond between siblings.

"how is your sister, by the way? I've heard she's quite the rising star." Hugh had heard a lot about you through Ryan and other people in the industry. He had seen your performances, your interviews, and your music, but always from a distance through the screen of his phone. There was something about you that intrigued him, an undeniable talent and charm that drew him in. He had subtly expressed his interest in meeting you to Ryan a few times, but your busy schedule never seemed to align with any opportunities.

“Why don’t you come join us tonight? Finally get you two together.” Ryan offers and Hugh wasn’t going to turn him down. As Hugh thought about you, he couldn't help but feel a flutter in his chest. There was just something about you that captured his attention. Whether it was your captivating charm or your undeniable talent, he couldn't quite put his finger on why he felt so drawn to you. He couldn't wait to finally meet you in person and see your performance up close and personal.

Despite his growing admiration for you, Hugh knew he had to keep his feelings in check. He was well aware of the age difference between the two of you. He was much older than you, and the thought of pursuing anything with you seemed irrational and inappropriate. He didn't want to risk creating an uncomfortable or unprofessional situation, but his attraction to you was undeniable.

While browsing Instagram, Hugh's eyes widen as he sees your latest upload. It's a picture of you in your chair, getting your makeup and hair done for the concert. You looked absolutely stunning. He stares at the picture, taking in every detail of your face. The way your hair framing it perfectly, your eyes sparkling, and your lips curled into a small, confident smile. He couldn't help but feel his breath catch in his throat.

The stadium is buzzing. Ryan, Blake, and High make their way to the VIP area, taking in the bustling atmosphere. Fans are chatting excitedly, eagerly awaiting the start of the concert. They were also buzzing about your upcoming performance, which had added a new level of anticipation to the event. Hugh looks around, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness as he waits for the moment he finally get to see you in person.

“She was so excited.” Blake hums happily as she recalls your excitement from a few days prior. Ryan chuckles as he too, remembers how excited you were to perform. He glances over at Blake, a fond smile on his face.

"She's always got so much energy and enthusiasm," he says, his voice filled with pride. "Can't blame her, this is a huge show. I just hope she doesn't get too nervous." Hugh nods as well, sharing Ryan's sentiment.

"She has nothing to worry about," he reassures them. "She's talented, and the fans adore her. Plus, she's opening for Taylor Swift, that's quite an accomplishment in itself."

As soon as you step on the stage, a burst of deafening applause from the crowd fills the air. People scream your name and cheer wildly, clearly excited to see you perform. Some fans even wave banners with your name on it.

You send a wink to the crowd. They go wild in response to your wink, their cheers growing even louder. They were clearly enjoying your flirty and confident attitude on stage. People can't help but swoon over your every move, mesmerized by your charms.

Music starts and you begin to sway. “We’re going to start this off on a good note.“ you say into the mic before you begin to sing your song.

The music begins to play and you start to sway your hips, putting on a show for the crowd. Your voice, clear and smooth, begins to fill the arena with the melody of your song. The fans erupt into screams and applause, instantly drawn into the energy you project. They sing along with the lyrics, completely captivated by your performance.

Hugh was absolutely mesmerized watching you perform. Your confidence, your energy, your stage presence, it all combined into an intoxicating performance. He couldn't tear his eyes away from you, completely mesmerized by your every move. He knew he wasn't the only one in the crowd captivated, people were losing themselves in the moment, completely entranced by your presence on stage.

As you look out into the crowd, your eyes land on your brother Ryan, his wife Blake, and the famous actor Hugh Jackman sitting next to them. You feel a jolt of excitement mixed with nerves shoot through you. There he was, the famous actor you admired so much. He was watching you perform, and your heart skipped a beat at the realization. You try your best to maintain your cool and focus on the performance, all the while hyper-aware of Hugh's presence in the audience.

Hugh is captivated as he watches you sing and engage with the crowd. As your eyes suddenly meet his, his heart skips a beat, taken slightly by surprise. Your smile, radiant and genuine, strikes him deeply. He can't help but smile back, his eyes locked onto yours. The connection he feels is electric, and in that moment, he can't look away. “Holy shit. Ryan did you bring the wolverine?” You ask joking over the mic.

The crowd bursts out into a cacophony of laughter and applause at your unexpected but hilarious comment. Ryan groans but grins widely, amused by your boldness. Hugh chuckles, clearly impressed with your humor and wit.

“You guys know they’re going to be teaming up?” You ask the crowd about the upcoming Deadpool and Wolverine movie project they’re filming soon.

The crowd erupts into excited shouts of anticipation at your question. They had no doubt been looking forward to this movie collaboration between the two actors. Hugh can't help but grin, appreciative of your acknowledgment of his work. He gives you a small nod, silently communicating his approval and appreciation of your comment.

Your eyes rake over Hugh. Clad in a white jacket he looked fine as hell. “God damn. He’s even hotter in person.” You say into the microphone as you stare at Hugh.

Ryan and Blake chuckle at your comment, clearly amused by your bluntness. But Hugh can't help but feel a jolt of excitement at your words. He blushes faintly, not expecting the unexpected compliment. The crowd roars with laughter and cheers, clearly enjoying the banter between you and the famous actor in the audience.

Ryan shakes his head and point a warning finger at you making you laugh. “Oops. I’m getting big brother all pissed.” The crowd laughs along with you, enjoying the playful banter and sibling dynamic you share with Ryan. Ryan laughs and shakes his head, pretending to be annoyed but secretly amused by your antics. Hugh watches the interaction with a smile, thoroughly entertained by your charismatic personality and easy-going nature.

It was clear that you had everyone in the audience completely enthralled. People were utterly captivated by your presence and your performance. You exuded a confidence and sexiness that was irresistible. You were the embodiment of the boy or girl's dream, leaving the crowd completely entranced by your charm and talent. Hugh couldn’t help but feel drawn to you as he watched you perform.

As you finish your final song, the crowd erupts into applause and cheers, clearly energized and excited for what was to come. They had been thoroughly entertained by your performance and were ready for the main event of the night. Hugh watches as you leave the stage, his eyes lingering after you as you disappear behind the curtain.

You rush off the stage, heart still racing from the adrenaline of the performance. You quickly change out of your performance outfit and into your sheer black dress. You can't help but feel a mix of excitement, relief, and satisfaction at how well the performance went.

You make your way to the VIP area, joining your friends and family to enjoy the rest of the concert. The area is spacious and comfortable, with plush seats and plenty of room to relax and mingle. you settle into your seat, taking in the atmosphere and anticipation building as people wait for the main event of the evening: Taylor Swift’s performance.

Blake hugs you tightly, expressing her admiration for your performance. “You were amazing! So hot!”

"Thank you so much," you say, still a bit winded from the adrenaline of the stage. You return the hug, grateful for her support and encouragement. Ryan laughs and jokingly tries to ruffle your hair, but you quickly swat his hand away, not wanting to mess up your freshly styled hair.

"Hands off!" you exclaim playfully, trying to smooth down your hair where he tried to mess it up.

Hugh speaks unable to hold it in any longer. “You were fantastic.” He stretch his hand out. “Hugh. Ryan has told me so much about you.” Your eyes widen in surprise and excitement as you hear Hugh introduce himself. You reach out and shake his hand, feeling a slight tingle at the touch of his skin against yours.

"It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, Hugh," you say, your voice a little breathless. You glance over at Ryan, wondering how much he had told Hugh about you.

Hugh can’t help but notice the slight shiver that runs through you at his touch. He smiles warmly, genuinely impressed by your performance.

"The pleasure is all mine," he replies, his eyes scanning over your face, taking in your beauty. "You were amazing up there." Hugh notices the blush that spreads across your cheeks as he compliments you. It’s a subtle gesture that he finds adorable. His smile widens as he watches you reaction, his eyes lingering on your blushing face for just a moment longer than necessary.

"I’m being completely honest," he says, his voice soft and sincere. "You have an incredible stage presence, and your voice is absolutely captivating. You truly have a gift." Ryan clears his throat. “Alright, she’s amazing. Yes, we all are jealous.”

Hugh laughs at Ryan's comment, realizing he might have been gushing a little too much. He shoots Ryan a wry smile, acknowledging his jest.

"Alright, alright," he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I’ll rein it in a bit.“

You laugh at Hugh comment. You shrug, “no keep it coming. I love to hear it.” You send wink with a smile. Hugh chuckles at your response. He can't help but appreciate your confidence and the way you take compliments in stride.

"Oh, you do, do you?" he asks, his tone light and playful. He smirks, the corner of his lip curving into a sly smile. "In that case, allow me to shower you with more compliments. Your voice is like a melody, your stage presence captivating, and your beauty is truly otherworldly."

Ryan groans, “oh my god. This has been a huge mistake.” Ryan pushes between you and Hugh. “I’m separating you two!”

Hugh laughs, thoroughly enjoying the lighthearted banter between you and Ryan. He playfully holds up his hands, as if to say “I surrender.”

"Alright, alright," he says, feigning innocence. "I’ll behave, I promise."

Hugh catches your subtle glance in his direction, and he can’t help but respond with a slight smirk. He gives you a small nod, silently communicating that he gets the message. Your brother might not like it, but Hugh was going to continue to compliment you,behaved or not.

Hugh noticed how your eyes seemed to light up whenever he complimented you, how your face would flush with pleasure. He also saw the way you ate up his attention, clearly enjoying the extra glances and words of praise. The way you responded to his compliments only fueled his desire to keep going. He found your reactions delightful, your eagerness to receive his praise feeding his growing affection for you.

You shiver slightly as you feel Hugh's hand graze down your arm. The touch is gentle, his fingers leaving a trail of electricity on your skin. As Hugh says your name, his voice low and intimate, you look up and meet his gaze, your heart skipping a beat.

“Yes?”

Hugh’s heart leaps as you respond, the way you say yes sending a thrill through him. He takes a step closer to you, his hand still lingering on your arm, his smile warm and captivating.

"Can I get your number?" he asks, his voice a soft whisper that only you can hear amongst the small crowd of people around you.

You look to him in slight shock. You flirted for fun and the show, but never did you really think he’d be interested. “Absolutely.” You say and take his phone putting your number in. Ending it with a heart emoji. Staying on brand.

Hugh watches as you type in your number, a smile spreading across his face when he sees the heart emoji you add to the end. He can’t believe that not only have you agreed to give him your number, but you’ve also added a little flirtatious touch to it. He takes his phone back, looking down at the new contact, a feeling of excitement and anticipation bubbling inside of him.

You are sound asleep when your phone buzzes on your bedside table. You rouse from sleep, groggily reaching for your phone to see what the notification is. As soon as you see the text from an unfamiliar number, your heart skips a beat. You quickly open the message to find that it's from Hugh, sent earlier that morning before he worked out.

You and Hugh texted back and forth throughout the day, unable to stop the growing spark between you two. The conversation is easy, full of laughter and a flirty undercurrent that keeps things exciting. Both of you find it difficult to focus on anything else, eager to see what the other will say next.

As the day goes on, your texts become more frequent, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. Hugh finds himself looking at his phone more often than he’d like to admit, his thoughts constantly on you. He can’t help but let his imagination run wild, thinking of all the things he’d like to say and do to you if he was with you in person.

You were in rehearsal when you finally got a break to text him. You took a selfie with your microphone. Your hair in a mess, and you were in your relaxed clothes. “The life of a pop star.” You send the text to Hugh with the picture.

Hugh's heart skips a beat as he sees the selfie you sent him. You look adorable, your hair a perfect mess and your relaxed clothes making you look comfortable and carefree. The microphone in the picture tells him you're in rehearsal, and he can't help but imagine what it would be like to watch you on stage again.

he texts back, a smile on his face. "You look beautiful. Can't wait to see you perform again."

You smile at his text. Replying with, ‘I’ll have to give you a backstage tour next time.’ Biting your lip as you hit send. It was flirty but could easily be pushed off as friendly. Hugh was friends with Ryan. Nothing wrong with offering Hugh a tour.

Hugh grins as he reads your text, his pulse quickening at the thought of you giving him a private backstage tour. The wording is suggestive, but the offer could be construed as simply friendly. Still, he can't help but feel the hint of flirtation in your message and it makes his heart race.

"I’d love that,” he replies, trying to keep his response casual but struggling to keep the excitement out of his message. “Definitely looking forward to the special treatment.”

“Who the fuck are you texting that’s got you all smiles?” Ryan asks as he walks in, script in hand for Deadpool and Wolverine. Hugh looks up, a bit surprised by Ryan’s sudden appearance. He tries to mask his smile, but it’s difficult to hide the fact that he was texting someone who was making him grin.

“Uh, no one in particular,” he replies, clearing his throat and setting his phone down on the table. He quickly changes the subject, not wanting to reveal that it was your texts that had put a smile on his face.

“So, you got the script, eh? How’s it looking?” Ryan shrugs with a smile. He was excited as fuck to bring this to life. “Oh It’s going to be insane.” Hugh can sense Ryan's excitement as he talks about the movie and it’s contagious. He returns the smile, sharing in his friend's enthusiasm.

“I have no doubt it will be,” he says, raising an eyebrow in playful anticipation. “I can’t wait to see what kind of chaos the dynamic duo of Deadpool and Wolverine will bring.”

Your assistant, producer and songwriter sit with you in the studio, all of them focused on helping you work on your next album.

You suddenly get a wave of inspiration, and start tapping your pen against the page in front of you. Your mind starts racing with different thoughts and ideas, as if a creative spark has been lit within you.

As you sit there, pensively tapping your pen, your mind drifts back to the late-night texts and calls you’ve been exchanging with Hugh. You think about his compliments, his jokes, his words of praise that never fail to make you feel special and wanted. The idea of him constantly on your mind, even when you should be focusing on your work, both excites and disturbs you.

One particular conversation coming to mind. Your phone rang. It was 12:05 am. You were in the studio as usual. Hugh was calling. You answered, “Hey.”

Hugh's heart leaped as he heard your voice on the other end. He smiled to himself, picturing you in the studio, surrounded by music and creativity. His voice was soft and warm as he responded.

“Hey, there,” he said, his tone affectionate and tinged with excitement. “I hope I’m not calling too late. Just couldn’t sleep.”

You smile into the phone, biting your lip. “Can’t sleep? Thinking of me too much?” You tease Hugh. Hugh chuckled at your tease, his heart skipping a beat at the thought of you thinking about him as much as he was thinking about you. He could almost picture you biting your lip as you spoke, the mental image making him wish he was there with you. “I am thinking of you too much.”

Hugh smiles as he hears your laugh through the phone. The sound was like music to his ears. He relished these late-night calls with you, the way you seemed to understand how much you were on his mind and how badly he wanted to be with you.

“You have no idea how true it is,” he said, his voice lower now, more serious. “You’ve been on my mind constantly lately. I can’t seem to get you out of my thoughts, no matter how hard I try.”

“I have that effect on men. Usually it’s men under 30 but I’ll make the exception for you.” You say teasingly. Hugh laughs, your cheeky response both endearing and a slight turn-on. He could imagine you with a smirk on your face as you made that quip, your eyes sparkling with playful mischief.

“Is that so?” he replies, his voice low and seductive. “Well, I suppose I can’t say I’m surprised. You’ve certainly had a captivating hold on me since we’ve first met. It’s like you’ve cast a spell on me, and I’m finding it increasingly harder to resist you."

You laugh again, “now you’re getting it.” Hugh wonders aloud. “What are you doing, sweetheart?”

“I’m at the studio.” you say leaning on the table. closer to the phone. just as close as you can get to Hugh at the moment.

Hugh’s heart thrills as you say you’re at the studio again, imagining you working on your music, surrounded by instruments and sound equipment. He wishes he was there with you, watching you work and listening to your beautiful voice fill the silence.

“Ah, little late isn’t it?,” he says, a hint of admiration in his voice. “You really are dedicated." You shrug, “I’m a singer. Of course I’m working late.” You laugh.

As you come back to the present, the influence of your thoughts about Hugh and the late-night call is evident in the words you write. The lyrics flow easily, one after another, each word feeling more personal and heartfelt than the last. You're lost in the creative process, the words coming effortlessly as your feelings for Hugh pour out onto the page.

You look down at the words on the page.

“he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh

Is it that sweet? I guess so

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know

That's that me espresso”

The lyrics you write are poignant and heartfelt, expressing your own feelings about Hugh and the effect you have on him. The idea that he's thinking about you every night, that you keep him up at night like a strong cup of espresso, is both flattering and a little tantalizing. You can almost picture Hugh's reaction if he were to hear these words, imagining a smile spreading across his face, his eyes gleaming with affection and desire.

Your entire crew is taken aback by the lyrics you've written, their jaws dropping as they hear the heartfelt words pouring out of you. Your producer's comment only reinforces their disbelief, and the excitement in the room is palpable.

"Damn, you really wrote that just now?" the producer asks. "That's incredible. Holy shit! This is going to be a huge hit."

Your producer is practically giddy with excitement, his enthusiasm contagious as he pushes you into the recording room. He's determined to make the most of your creative burst and get the song recorded while you're still inspired and filled with emotion.

"This is gold. We need to capture this energy and these lyrics while they're fresh in your mind."

You smile as you see Hugh's name flash on your phone screen. It's late, and you’re wrapping things up but the familiar sight of his name fills you with a mix of excitement and anticipation. You answer the call, a warm feeling spreading through you at the idea of hearing his voice again.

"Hey," you say, your voice soft and full of affection. “Are you at the studio?” Hugh's voice is hopeful. He knows how much time you spend there working on your music, and he can't help but feel a flutter of excitement at the possibility of hearing you say yes.

"Yeah," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I'm at the studio. You caught me at a good time. I was just about to leave.” Hugh smiled as he pulled around to the front of the building. “Good. I’m out front waiting on you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you heard Hugh say he was waiting outside. A mix of surprise and excitement washed over you. He was here, waiting for you? You never expected him to show up unannounced, especially at this hour.

"You're outside?" you asked, trying to hide the eagerness in your voice. "What are you doing here?" Hugh's chuckle echoed through the phone, his voice warm and gentle.

"I just wanted to see you," he said simply.

As you hurry to pack up your things, Hugh's words send a warm shiver down your spine. The thought that he simply wanted to see you, just for the sake of it, was both touching and thrilling. Knowing he was waiting for you outside made your heart race, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement at the prospect of seeing him.

You'd never imagined you'd have feelings like this for an older man like Hugh either, but here you were, practically running to get to him.

“Well, I’m on my way down now.” You say into your phone. Hugh grins at the sound of your voice through the phone, knowing that you're on your way down to meet him. He leans against his car, a sense of anticipation building in his chest. He can't wait to see you, to witness your smile, and feel the warmth of your presence.

"I'll be right here waiting for you, sweetheart," he replies, his tone filled with affection. "Take your time."

As you step outside of the studio, the cool night air hits your face. You look around, seeing the familiar sight of the paparazzi lingering in the parking lot and empty streets, ready to snap a photo of unsuspecting celebrities. You had almost forgotten about them, since they always seemed to lurk around corners, hoping to catch a glimpse of famous faces.

Tonight, it appears that you and Hugh are the targets. The paparazzi spot you and their cameras immediately start flashing, the bright lights and loud clicks of the cameras filling the air.

Hugh quickly reaches out and takes your hand, guiding you to his car. He opens the door for you, making sure to shield you from the paparazzi's cameras as best as he can. He knows that the last thing you need is for your face to be plastered across every gossip site and tabloid magazine.

Once you're safely inside the car, Hugh hurries around to the driver's side. As he gets in, the paparazzi continue to snap photos, the bright flashes illuminating the dark night. You hold your jacket up in front of your face, trying your best to hide from their intrusive camera lenses.

Hugh glances over at you, a look of concern on his face as he sees you holding your jacket up in front of your face. He knows how much you dislike the constant presence of the paparazzi and the intrusive nature of their photography.

"You okay?" he asks gently, his voice filled with empathy. He starts the car engine, preparing to drive away from the throng of photographers.

“Better now.”

Hugh relaxes slightly as he sees you nod and smile, reassured by your response. He knows that the presence of the paparazzi can be overwhelming and uncomfortable, and he's relieved to know that you're feeling better now that you're away from them.

"Good," he says, returning your smile. "Let's get out of here."

He skillfully maneuvers the car out of the parking lot and onto the empty streets, leaving the paparazzi behind. The night is quiet and peaceful, the only sound being the hum of the engine and your soft breathing.

As Hugh drives, he steals glances at you, taking in your delicate features illuminated by the passing streetlights. He can sense your tiredness, the weariness from working late into the night. He knows how driven and passionate you are about your music, and he admires your dedication.

"You really shouldn't work so late, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and concerned. Hugh reaches out and places his hand on your thigh, his warm palm against the soft silk of your skin. It's a small gesture, but it speaks volumes of his care, concern, and desire for you.

Hugh pulled up to your building, pulling into the parking garage. He slows the car. “Do you want to come up? “ you offer your stomach tight with butterflies.

Hugh hesitates for a brief moment, torn between wanting to spend more time with you and not wanting to overstep any boundaries. He considers your invitation, his heart fluttering at the thought of being alone with you again.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice slightly hoarse with desire. "I don't want to intrude. I know you're tired." You shake your head, “if you left I’m going to end up calling you anyway. Why not stay for a little?”

Hugh chuckles at your words, his heart warming at the idea that you'd call him anyway. It seems you can't resist the pull between you either.

"Well, if you insist," he says, feigning reluctance. "But don't blame me when you're too tired to be awake tomorrow." “Oh, I am definitely saying you’re the one to blame.” You giggle as you get out of the car followed by him.

Hugh grins at your cheeky response, knowing full well that he'll take the blame with pleasure. He follows you out of the car, closing the door behind him. As you make your way towards your building, he slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side.

Your body fits perfectly against his side. It's moments like these that he cherishes, these simple, intimate moments that make him feel truly connected to you.

Hugh's mind is racing as he walks beside you, thoughts swirling through his head. The age difference between the two of you is something that constantly looms over him, a constant reminder that he's older than you, with a life and experiences that you may not fully understand.

He worries about the impact that being involved with him will have on you, both publicly and personally. He doesn't want to put you in a position where you'll be judged or misunderstood simply because you're with him.

You unlock the door and step into your home, Hugh following closely behind. The familiar surroundings of your apartment greet you, the dimly lit rooms adding a sense of warmth and comfort.

Hugh glances around the space, taking in the cozy living room, the open kitchen area, and the hallway that leads to your bedroom and bathroom.

Hugh couldn't help but notice how much the space resembled you. It was as if your essence had been poured into every corner of the apartment.

He took a deep breath, taking in the scent of your home. The sweet, gentle fragrance filled his senses, instantly making him feel at ease. It was like being enveloped in a warm embrace, a sense of comfort and peace washing over him.

“Do you want anything to drink?” You ask going into the kitchen. *Hugh smiles at your offer, appreciating your thoughtfulness.

"Sure, that would be nice," he says, his gaze never leaving your face. "Do you have any wine?" You smirk and nod.

Hugh grins as you return with two chilled glasses and a bottle of wine. He watches as you pour the smooth, rich liquid into each glass, the sound of the wine bottle clinking against the glass filling the cozy quiet of your apartment.

As you sit down next to him on the couch, Hugh can't help but take in the sight of you, the dim lighting casting a soft glow on your features. He takes a sip of his wine, savoring the taste and the intimate moment between the two of you.

Hugh leans back against the couch, his body relaxing as the alcohol courses through his veins.

"This is nice," he says, his voice slightly huskier than usual. "Just getting to spend time with you, without having to worry about being interrupted or watched."

You smile and nod. “Or my brother.”

You roll your eyes at the thought of Ryan if he knew you’d been spending time with Hugh.

Hugh chuckles at the mention of your brother, imagining the kind of reaction he'd have if he knew about your time together.

"Your brother would definitely have some choice words if he knew we were here like this, wouldn't he?" he says, swirling the wine around in his glass. “Yeah, but I don’t really care.” You were an adult woman who could make your own choices. And Hugh seemed like a great one.

Hugh grins at your defiant attitude, appreciating your confidence and independence. It's one of the things he finds most attractive about you - your unwillingness to conform to the opinions of others. "I like that about you," he says admiringly.

Hugh takes another sip of his wine, the alcohol giving him a little bit of liquid courage. He stares into your eyes, knowing that he needs to say what's on his mind. He knows the risk he's taking by revealing his feelings so soon, but he can't hold them in any longer. The chemistry between you is undeniable, and he wants, no he needs to let you know how he feels.

"I know it might seem like it's too early to say this, but I just need to get it off my chest," he says, his voice slightly hoarse with emotion. "I don't know what it is about you, but you've got me feeling… things. I can't get you out of my head, and the more I get to know you, the more I like you. I know it's only been a short time, but I can't deny the way I feel."

Your heart clenches with happiness, a burning warmth spreading across your chest as a joyous smile splits across your face. It was a relief to know that Hugh's affection mirrored your own, confirming that the depth of your emotions was reciprocated.

Hugh's heart swells with relief as he sees the joyous smile spread across your face. He can see the emotion and happiness in your eyes, and he knows that you feel the same way he does.

He reaches out and takes your hand, enveloping it gently in his own, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your skin. He gazes at you, his voice filled with tenderness.

"I can't explain it, but you've just... you've got me. Completely."

You feel Hugh's hand gently touch yours, his touch sending a shiver of warmth and affection through you. As you meet his gaze, you can see the tenderness and vulnerability in his eyes.

"I know exactly what you mean," you reply, the words escaping your lips on a breath of air. "Being with you just feels... right. Like a piece of me that I didn't even know was missing has finally found its place."

Hugh's heart warms at your words, a feeling of contentment washing over him. "Yes, exactly," he says, his voice soft. "I don't think I've ever felt this way before. It's like... like I've been searching for something all these years, and now I've found it in you."

He squeezes your hand gently, his gaze locked on yours. "I can't believe it's only been a couple of weeks. It feels like I've known you for a lifetime."

Your desire to kiss Hugh grows stronger with every passing moment until it becomes overwhelming. You want to feel the warmth of his lips on yours, to taste the sweetness of his breath and lose yourself in his embrace. The ache of need consumes you, but you hold back, waiting for the perfect moment.

Hugh can sense the increasing tension between you, the air thick with unspoken desire. His eyes scan your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and parted lips, and he knows that you're feeling the same way he is.

He can't resist the allure of your gaze any longer. He moves closer to you, the space between you practically nonexistent. He can feel the heat of your body, the magnetic pull that draws him to you like a moth to a flame.

He reaches out, his hand gently cupping your jaw, his thumb tracing along the softness of your skin. His eyes never leave yours, the depth of his passion reflecting in the blue of his irises. He leans in, his face mere inches from yours.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire. The words send your heart racing, and a mixture of excitement and longing washes over you. Your breath catches, and in a barely audible whisper, you respond, “Please.”

Hugh's heart skips a beat at your response, the sound of your "please" like music to his ears. Without hesitation, he closes the small gap between you, his lips capturing yours in a gentle, yet passionate kiss.

The taste of your lips is like a drug to him, addictive and intoxicating. His hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, wanting to eliminate any space between you.

His tongue seeks entry into your mouth, and as you part your lips, he deepens the kiss, exploring the sweet heat of your mouth. His other hand comes to rest on your waist, pulling you onto his lap. He wants to be as close to you as possible, to feel the weight of your body against his as he kisses you senseless.

As Hugh's hands roamed over your body, his touch felt like fire on your skin. In that moment, the age gap between you melted away, leaving only the raw desire and passion that burned between you. You didn't care about the years that separated you, all you could think about was the intensity of his experienced touch and the way he made you feel.

Hugh's hands continue to roam over your body, exploring every dip and curve of your form. His touch is possessive and yet gentle, his experience evident in the way he seems to know exactly how to make you respond to him. He breaks the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin.

He sucks and nips at your flesh, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites down to your collarbone.

As you break away, gasping for air, a sly and sultry smile spreads across your face. "My bedroom is just down the hall,"

You say, your voice low and husky as you look at him through half-lidded eyes. The invitation is clear, and you can see the effect you're having on him as his eyes darken with desire.

Without a word, he scoops you into his arms, lifting you up against his chest as if you weigh nothing at all. "On the right or left, baby?," he whispers, his voice gruff and hoarse with anticipation.

“Left.” You whisper as you kiss his neck. Hugh lets out a low moan. The feeling of your lips on his sensitive skin sends a bolt of pleasure through his body.

"Mmm, keep doing that," he murmurs, his hand gripping your waist tighter. He follows your directions down the short hallway, moving to the left and gently carrying you into the bedroom.

He sets you down on the bed with care, the silken sheets cool against your skin. He drinks in the sight of you, laid out on the bed before him like a present just waiting to be unwrapped. He moves to the edge of the bed, kneeling between your legs. His hands run up your thighs. He looks at you, his eyes dark and full of desire.

You lie back on the luxurious bed, your body tingling with anticipation as Hugh's strong hands roam over your thighs. The soft silk sheets caress your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine. He's taking his time, teasing you with his touch, and the anticipation is almost unbearable. You want him, desire him, and the heat between your legs intensifies with every passing second.

Hugh kneels between your legs, his eyes locked on yours. His gaze is intense, dark, and filled with a hunger that matches your own. He leans in close, his breath tickling your face, he whispers, "You're breathtaking." His deep voice sends a thrill through your body.

As he speaks, his hands glide up your inner thighs, inching closer to the clothed core of your desire. You hold your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. Thank god you wore a dress today.

His fingers brush against the sensitive skin of your pussy, his touch only divided by the thin cloth of your panties. The pressure of his fingers making you gasp softly. He pauses, enjoying the moment, and you can see the pleasure reflected in his eyes as he teases you. Hugh lets his hands travel to the side hem of your panties. He runs his thumb over the seam as he looked up to you through desire filled orbs. Wordlessly you nod, a gasping smile on your glossed lips.

Hugh pulls back the pretty side of your panties, revealing your heat to his eyes. He groans at the sight of it, warm and wet with your arousle. Hugh dips a finger through your folds causing you to arch up with a soft moan.

"You like that, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice hoarse with desire. You nod, unable to form words as pleasure clouds your mind. Hugh chuckles softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "I can see how much you want me," he continues, his fingers gently stroking your folds. "But I'm going to make you wait a little longer."

With that, he leans down and replaces his fingers with his warm, wet tongue. He parts your pussy lips with his tongue, exploring your intimate folds with slow, deliberate movements. You let out a soft moan, arching your back further as his tongue finds your clit. He suckles gently, sending waves of pleasure through your body. His experienced mouth knows exactly how to drive you wild.

Hugh's hands grip your thighs firmly, holding you in place as he feasts on your sweet pussy. He alternates between soft licks and firm strokes, driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. You reach down, threading your fingers through his hair, wanting to pull him closer, but he gently bats your hands away, maintaining control.

"Not yet, sweetheart," he whispers, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. "I want to taste you, all of you." He spreads your legs wider, exposing you completely to his hungry gaze and mouth. His tongue plunges deep inside your wetness, fucking you with slow, deliberate movements. You cry out, your body trembling as he hits all the right spots.

As he eats you out with passion and skill, your hands grip the sheets tightly, the silk providing little comfort against the intensity of your pleasure. You're lost in a haze of sensation, Hugh's tongue working its magic, driving you closer to the precipice of orgasm. He senses your impending release and increases his efforts, his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit.

"Oh god, I'm gonna cum!" you exclaim, your voice hoarse and raw. Hugh doesn't let up, instead, he redoubles his efforts, determined to push you over the edge. Your body convulses, every muscle tensing as the orgasmic wave crashes over you. You cry out his name, your hips bucking wildly as you ride out the powerful climax.

Hugh continues to lap at your sensitive flesh, drawing out your pleasure, making the orgasm stretch and extend until you're sure you can't take any more. Finally, he pulls away, his face glistening with your juices, and moves up your body, his hard cock pressing against your thigh through his pants.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, and the sensation sends another shudder of pleasure through your sated body.

"I want you," you whisper against his lips, your voice laced with desire. "I want to feel you inside me."

You lean into him, your dress pooling up at your hips. Breathlessly you grab into Hugh and reach for his belt buckle. Hugh chuckles at your rushed hands, your eyes filled with desire and anticipation. He can see the disappointment in your expression as he gently grabs your hand, stopping you from going any further.

"Hold on, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and gruff. "I want to take my time with you. I don't want this to be just a quick hookup. I want to do this right. To treat you with the respect you deserve."

Hugh gently moves your hands above your head, pinning you to the bed with his strong arms. He gazes down at you, admiring the sight of you underneath him, your dress riding up your hips and your hair spilling across the pillow. His eyes are dark and filled with a passion that is both intense and possessive.

He captures your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as he holds you in place, his body pressed against yours. Hugh continues to shower you with kisses, his hands roaming over your body, as he speaks.*

"So, to do that, I’m going to make you dinner.” He kissed you again between his words. His lips moving to your neck as he murmured, “at my place, on Friday at eight." His teeth graze your skin as he nips at your collarbone, a low growl of desire rumbling in his chest.

"It'll be a proper date. With candlelight and wine and music, the whole nine yards. Just the two of us, enjoying each other's company. Everything you deserve.”

As you smile at Hugh, the mixture of excitement, anticipation, and tenderness in your expression give the impression of being lost in a dreamlike state. It’s as if nothing else exists besides the two of you.

He gives you one last lingering kiss before reluctantly pulling away, knowing that he needs to leave before things get out of hand. He can't help but feel a pang of disappointment as he untangled himself from your embrace, but he knows that this will only make your date on Friday even more special.

You lounge on the bed, propped up and gazing at Hugh with a sultry grin on your face. You tease him as, you sit up and ask saucily, "Okay then. Friday. Will you fuck me then?"

Hugh lets out a rich chuckle, admiring your clever attempt to trap him. He’s well aware that you’re trying to get him to give in, but he’s enjoying this playful game of push and pull.

Hugh pulls you up until you’re standing beside him. He gazes at you with a mixture of desire and affection in his eyes, and with a soft smile, he requests, “Walk me out, darling?”

You give him a sly smirk, determined not to give in so easily this time. You walk past him, making sure to put an extra sway in your hips as you do so, knowing full well that Hugh’s eyes are on you. "Fine," you reply, feigning reluctance as you lead the way towards the door. Hugh follows behind you, his eyes tracing the captivating movement of your hips as you walk. A sly half-smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and he can’t help but enjoy the sight of you trying to regain the upper hand in this dance of desire.

As Hugh stands on the threshold, preparing to step out into the hallway, you open the door and hold it for him. He starts to turn away, saying his goodnights, but before he can make his exit, you grasp the collar of his shirt with a quick yank, pulling him down to your level. You capture his lips in one more kiss, a brief moment of passion and intensity that leaves you both breathless.

Hugh stands there for a moment, a little dazed. A smile slowly creeps across his face as he takes the moment in. "Goodnight, darling," he replies, his gaze lingering on the closed door you've just disappeared behind.

[hellisharchive]

Some Adam smut with a fangirl? I mean he did mention a band.. so that means he would have a ton of fans across the music genre! And one in particular likes HIM the most. How would he handle that? Just like another groupie? Or maybe something more? Please have fun with this!!

・﹒・ diggin' on the guitarist - request

Summary: You wanted him to notice you- but you were too scared to make yourself known. You were his biggest fangirl but too shy to say something. However, he finally noticed you in ways you never could have imagined.

Warnings: 18+, fingering [reader receiving], aftercare

Pairing: Adam x Fem!Fangirl!reader

You went to his every show, but not feeling confident enough to go up and meet him as you would probably find someway to mess up. You had the biggest crush on him, biggest fangirl this side of Heaven regardless of what everyone else says. He was just so hot, you would kill just for a little wink at you. This show was no different as you jumped up with the crowd as you yelled along to his lyrics, always so passionate about his music, you loved the energy. By the end, you were exhausted and had another amazing time. Starting to leave after mostly everyone filed out, you felt a hand grab onto your wrist. Turning around, you saw that it was Adam himself. What did he want? With someone like you?

"Heeeyy now, where ya goin' hot stuff? Don't think I don't notice ya at every single show of mine. Gotta say, I'm always sad when I see ya leave. Not this time" He had on a smirk as he let you go, only to get right up in your personal space. Only then did you realize just how much bigger than he was from you, he had to lean down a good few inches just to be above your head. Face growing hot from the size difference, you panicked and looked around the now completely empty venue- it was just you two. Was this really happening? Did he actually notice you every single time? Freezing, you had no idea what to say and how to respond. He was your idol, your true love, and he actually noticed you. You felt like an idiot, like you were back in high school with a stupid crush on a guy. But, you try and muster up something and fail spectacularly.

"I uh- I just uh. Uhm-" A slim finger rested itself on your lips, promptly shutting you up. Eyes wide, you saw his mischievous ones as he pulled his finger away, grabbing onto your waist and walking you backstage into what looked like a sort of lounge room. You were shaky and unable to fully process everything that was happening. The Adam, the first man eas hitting on you, touching you, and bringing you on stage. Your dreams were all coming true.

"You don't have to say anything Babe, it's ok, I know I'm too awesome that I make you speechless. Now- sit down" You stayed silent as he gently pushed you onto the pale, golden couch, opting for being quiet that as the bst option so you don't keep making a fool of yourself. You didn't know what he was planning but you did as he asked, sitting on the cushions as he stood and hovered right over you.

"You ready to be pleasured by the original dick, Babe?" You nodded egarly and he chuckled before telling you to take off your clothes. You hurriedly rushed as you ripped them off while also being careful not to damage them, you felt the cold rush of air hit your now naked body. Staring up at the man, he took off his mask to reveal a handsome face with brown hair and gold eyes. It then occurs to you that you've never seen him without his mask, or anyone has.

"I know, I'm fucking handsome. Now sit back and relax as I give you a special show for my favorite fan" Before you could fully register that he said you were his favorite, he smashes his lips against yours and grabbed onto your tits. You moaned in his mouth as he tweaked your nipples, already making you so aroused as you grabbed onto his hair and tugged it. After a few minutes, he pulled away and took off all his clothes except his underwear. He then slid himself between your thighs, sloppily kissing your neck, causing you to moan loudly. He nipped and sucked until the point where you're sure there were at least 2 hickeys that would form. As he was doing that, he slipped a finger to your pussy, which caused you to jump in his hold. The first man moved down to suck on your tit, picking the nipple as he gently moved his finger right where your clit was, flicking it and gently dipping it into your folds.

"Adaaaammm..." You moaned, from the tit sucking to the feeling of his finger penetrating you was getting overwhelming. Squirming, you tugged on his hair and gripped it as he started to move in and out of you, switching the breast he was sucking to the other side. He then added a second finger, going faster as you could feel that familiar pool gather in your stomach, at this rate, you were going to orgasm in a little bit. Biting your lip, your breaths became fast and unsteady as he knew exactly how to move his fingers inside you as a guitarist.

"Keep moaning my name, its hot as fuck" Before you could release, he pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine from having your orgasm robbed from you. Chuckling, he took off his underwear to reveal an average sized cock, but it was pretty thick. Gulping, you wondered if it would even fit. Looking back up at him, he pulled you into a kiss- a softer one this time- as he lined himself up.

"Tell me if it gets too much, alright? Or tap me or some shit I don't know" Nodding, you took a deep breath as he slowly started to push in, with just his tip you were already feeling full. Grabbing onto his arms, you closed eyes and curled your toes as he was making sure to be gentle. Taking deep breaths, you felt kisses on your untouched side of your neck as he finally pushed all the way in. Opening your eyes, you saw him have a soft look on his face before he asked if you were ready. Saying yes, he started thrusting in and out. Yelling out his name, you moaned the entire time as he went slower at first before quickly picking up. Your arms were wrapped around his neck as you tugged on his hair hard, causing him to fuck you into the couch harder. Tears formed in your eyes from just how good it was- heavenly- if you will.

"Keep sounding like that and I'm gonna have to claim as mine, fuck" You could barely register what he said as he pounded into you mercilessly, the feeling of an orgasm quickly returning. You started sobbing as you finally orgasmed, moaning out his name so loud you swore all of Heaven heard you. Breath slowing down, he slowed down as well, hair all messy from your tugging, sweat covered both of your bodies as you stared into each other like old lovers. He gently slid himself out of you and you already missed the feeling of being so full. His cum and your fluids mixed as they leaked out of you. You watched as he grabbed a towel that he slightly wet and a water bottle and set them on the couch.

"Drink" He noticed you were out of it and shaky, so he opened the bottle and lifted the opening to your mouth, slightly leaning your head back as you drank some water. He set it back down when he thought you had enough for now and started to clean you off. He was being so gentle as he made sure to get every single part of your body. He went to grab your clothes when you tugged on his wrist, even if weakly, but it was enough to signal him.

"Can you uh...can we uh..." Your voice was hoarse from all the screaming and the water only did so much, but even after he fucked you silly, you still couldn't ask to cuddle with him. Smiling, he shook his head as he pulled away and grabbed a random blanket on a chair and walked back over, laying you down softly on the large couch. Resting the blanket on top of you, he crawled in behind you as he was much larger than you. Wrapping his arms around you, you felt him kiss your head, making your chest warm.

"Thank you for being my favorite fan"

[lemoncrushh]

Her Album

Summary: Harry has finished recording his album, and he wants her to hear it.

Warnings: Angst, lots of feelings

Word Count: 2.9k+

A/N: A short one-shot written in 2019 in first person from Harry's POV. While this is not necessarily a reader fic, the woman's name is never mentioned. This was written before Fine Line was out, so it's pretty wild to think about it now.

The album was done. I’d made a visit to the studio to hear the final mix and then had lunch with Jeffrey and Glenne. As I drove home, I listened to the songs again in the car, deciding not to stop at my house when I got there, but instead to keep going so I could give one last listen straight through.

I’m not sure how I ended up on her street. It used to be automatic, like taking my shoes off before my trousers, or putting the cap back on the toothpaste. I’d driven down her block so many times before, I probably knew it better than my own neighbourhood.

I sat in the car for a long time, staring up at her window. I wasn’t even sure if she was home. I couldn’t tell if a light was on, but it was the middle of the day and that window was her bedroom, so she could’ve been anywhere else inside. I let the album loop around to the first track again, the opening chords hitting me in the chest just like the first time I’d heard them.

I wanted her to hear them too. I wanted her to listen to the melodies and have them bring back the memories that had inspired me to write them. I wanted her to listen to my lyrics and know they were all about her, even the ones that weren’t as obvious. Songs about love and loss. Songs about sex and lust and forbidden fruit. Songs that sounded like they were about something completely different, hidden behind loose meanings and innuendos.

But they were all about her.

I scrolled through my phone and opened the contacts to her name. We hadn’t spoken in weeks, maybe even months. I’d lost count. Being in the studio had helped to heal my broken heart, and my pride, but it certainly hadn’t erased her memory. She was with me every single day, every moment that I worked on a song.

I almost tapped on her name, my thumb grazing over it. But I stopped myself, turning off my phone, and then my engine. Climbing out of the car, I walked around it to the pavement in front of her building, once again looking up at her window. For a second I considered being like John Cusack in Say Anything, holding up an 80s boom box and serenading her with my music so she’d notice. But I reckoned that was borderline stalking, not to mention disturbing the neighbours, so I made my way to the stairs and climbed them to the second floor.

I stopped in front of her door, staring at it for a good two to three minutes before I even lifted my hand. I took several breaths, wondering if I was making a mistake. She probably didn’t wanna see me, let alone talk to me. She didn’t give a shit about my album. She had moved on.

But I was there. I felt like something had brought me there for a reason, and that reason was to play her my music. Let her know exactly how I felt about her - how she drove me crazy and how she’d hurt me and how I’d hurt her. How in love with her I’d been. How I still…

Finally, I knocked, a little too softly at first, but I didn’t want to startle her. At least that’s what I told myself. When no one responded, however, I knocked again, much louder and with determination.

“Jesus, I’m coming!” I heard her yell from inside. “Hold your-”

She stood before me with a half-eaten apple in her hand, her mouth open and her eyes wide. She wore a t-shirt and shorts, her hair pulled back in a loose bun and no makeup. She looked beautiful.

“Hey,” I said, my voice not quite cooperating so I sounded like a frog.

“Harry.” She said my name in almost a question, though she knew it was me. She just wondered why it was me.

When she didn’t say anything else, I shifted my eyes up and down the hall and shrugged.

“Can I come in?”

I admit, I expected her to nod and step back to let me inside her apartment. But when she shook her head, my face fell.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she remarked.

“Um...why not?”

“Because…” she began, her tone hard as steel, “I just got over you.”

“Over me?” I gulped.

“Yeah. It’s taken me a while, but I finally am,” she explained, placing the apple on the table by the door. Then wiping her hands on her shorts, she leaned against the door frame. “You haven’t shown your face here in nearly three months. I can’t just let you waltz on in here and undo everything.”

“‘m not…” I stumbled, “‘m not undoing anything.”

“Then why are you here?”

Her gorgeous but stern eyes glared at me, piercing through my heart. I looked down at my feet, thinking I’d made a mistake by coming. She didn’t want any more to do with me. I’d waited too long and missed the window. Maybe there hadn’t even been one.

Lifting my head, I looked at her beautiful face again. It was then that I recognized the shirt she was wearing - my old AC/DC t-shirt.

“Looks like you’re not completely over me,” I pointed. I dunno why I said it. It was petty and juvenile.

“What?” she huffed, crossing her arms.

“You’re wearing my shirt.”

She looked down at the emblem on her chest, seemingly just realizing what she had on. With a sigh, she dropped her arms.

“I just like it,” she said, her head held high. “And you basically gave it to me anyway.”

“No, I didn’t.” Shut up, H, you’re making it worse, I thought to myself.

“Well, you left it here. And I ended up sleeping in it. And you never came back, so…” She crossed her arms again in defense.

She was right. The last time I’d been in her apartment, we’d had a massive fight, and I’d told her it was over and stormed out. She’d tried calling and texting me for a couple days, but I’d ignored her, stubborn with pride. When I’d finally agreed to talk to her again, I was only being a right twat, unable to see or accept her side. So, we only ended up fighting again until she said she needed some space.

“I was giving you your space,” I muttered, knowing damn well I sounded like a wanker.

“For six weeks?” she snorted and shook her head. “You have some nerve, Harry.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“What was that?” she stepped closer to me, her brows furrowed. “Did you really just say you’re sorry?”

“Yeah. I am.”

“Sorry for what? For breaking my heart? For being a dickhead? For not calling or texting or even saying one word to me for freaking ever? For telling me it was over in the first place? Or for showing up here now when I’m finally over you?”

I blinked. “All of it,” I admitted.

Her lips twitched, and for a second I thought she was going to smile.

“Fuck you, Harry!” she exclaimed.

Stepping back, she grabbed the door, ready to slam it. But I brought my hand up and stopped it.

“I want you to listen to it,” I said, remembering why I’d come.

“Why should I listen to you?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“Not to me. To the album. It’s finished, and I want you to hear it.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t be serious. You came here so I’d listen to your new music? You really are a douchebag.”

“No, you don’t understand, I-“

“You’re right, I don’t,” she interrupted. “But seems to me you had weeks to explain yourself, Harry. I’m done crying over you.”

She was about to shut the door again when I called out, “I’ve been crying over you, too!”

She stood still, her hand on the door that was opened only a crack. Leaning her forehead against it, I could tell she was holding back tears. I didn’t want her to cry now, at least not over this.

“Liar,” she croaked.

“It’s not a lie, ba-” I almost called her baby, but I knew she wouldn’t like that. Not yet. “Please. Let me in. You don’t even have to talk. Just listen to the album.”

I stood silent for a moment, watching her eyelashes flutter against her pink cheeks. Finally, she let out a sigh and stepped back, opening the door to allow me to step inside.

“Thanks,” I muttered low as she closed the door behind me.

She didn’t reply. In fact, she didn’t even look at me as she grabbed her half eaten apple and went into the kitchen. I stood in the middle of the living room, waiting for her return.

“Okay,” she gestured toward me as she plopped onto the couch. “Go ahead.”

Spotting her laptop on the coffee table, I pointed. “Do you mind?”

She merely nodded and I sat down next to her and opened it. Then sliding my hand into my pocket, I pulled out the USB drive and plugged it in, bringing up the files I’d saved in the studio. With a click of the mouse, the first track began to play, those familiar chords ringing once again. I sat back and watched her, waiting for some kind of reaction on her face.

But none came.

Not when the first track ended, nor when the second song started, the first lyric blatantly about her. I started to get restless, rubbing my palms on my knees and bouncing my leg. I ran my fingers through my hair, a habit she used to tell me was endearing, only now she didn’t give any indication that she even noticed.

Finally, during the third song, I saw her make the slightest move, leaning against the arm of the sofa and resting her head in her hand. We made eye contact for a second before she quickly looked away, her eyes hazy. I wondered what she was thinking. I wanted so badly to ask, to pry it out of her, but I’d promised she needn’t talk.

We were halfway through the album when I caught more movement out of the corner of my eye. I’d been sat with my head down, unable to look at her during track seven, the most intimate and personal song I’d written. My gaze lifted to her, and I noticed her shoulders were shaking. Her head was still in her hand, her cheeks now wet with tears.

I wanted to reach out, to hold her in my arms. God, I wanted that so bad. But I let her be. I knew she needed to cry without me giving false promises that everything was okay. None of this was okay.

I’d cried when I’d written that song. I’d broken down in the recording booth when I’d sung the chorus for the first time. I only just realized as I watched her body shake with sobs that I’d been an idiot for not telling her how I’d felt. But maybe...just maybe she could finally hear me through my songs.

By the time that track ended, I was in tears too. I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand, sniffling as I tried to compose myself. I sat back on the couch again, my head leant back. I shut my eyes and listened to the next song, one a little more uptempo. I tapped my fingertips on the cushion at my sides, humming softly. This song was about happy memories, when we’d laid on the beach or beside my pool last summer. When we’d been so in love and hadn’t a care in the world. Before all the fighting and jealousy and…

I almost didn’t feel it at first, her hand brushing mine. It was such a light touch, I thought perhaps I was imagining it, lost in the song. But my eyelids fluttered open when I felt it again. I stared at my right hand on the cushion, her slim fingers over mine. She used to like to do that, when we’d be sat together watching a movie, or lying in bed reading. She’d trace my hand and knuckles with her fingertips, her delicate hand dancing over mine before I’d smile and thread our fingers together. It was an unspoken gesture of affection we’d had. I missed it.

God, I missed her.

I raised my head to look at her. I half expected her to be looking at me too, but she was focused on our hands. Her expression wasn’t one I’d hoped either. She looked sad, her cheeks still tear-stained. I wanted to kiss them, make it all better.

I opened my mouth to say her name, but nothing came out. I cleared my throat and she looked at me. I turned my hand over then like I used to, wanting to thread our fingers together. But she pulled away, her jaw set.

“Why’d you do that?” I asked, my voice a deep rasp.

They were the first words either of us had spoken since the music started, and I instantly regretted it, knowing I’d meant to stay silent until the end. We were on track nine now, a couple more songs to go. I still wanted her to hear all of it. I wanted her to know I still felt the same, even though I wasn’t completely over the anger, over the heartbreak. But I’d spilled my guts out in my songs. I was shit at communication, I knew that. I hoped that she could understand it all in my music.

“I...I don’t know,” she whispered.

She crossed her legs then, sat in the corner of the couch. She reached behind her head and pulled at her bun, letting her hair fall freely down her shoulders. She seemed comfortable, at least less resistant than she had when I’d knocked on her door. I could tell she wanted to talk, but she kept her mouth shut because I’d told her she could. I also felt like she was really listening though. And that was really all I wanted.

“That was a really good song,” she surprised me after track ten. But she didn’t say anything more.

Clearing my throat again, I sucked in my lips when the final song started. If track seven had been the most personal, this was the companion to it. This was me giving my heart, me asking forgiveness and giving it back. This was me wanting another chance to prove how I felt about her. I’d known as I was writing and recording it that the possibility of that happening was slim to none. But I had to take a chance. I was tired of keeping it bottled up, being a stubborn prat because I’d wanted my way and had to be right. I was all kinds of wrong. I knew I wasn’t fully to blame for our break-up, but I was taking responsibility and owning up to my part in it. I hoped she could hear that in my voice.

By the time the song was over, my head was in my hands. I perched on the edge of the sofa shaking. I’d already listened to it a handful of times in the studio and in my car, but it hadn’t had the effect it had now, sat in her living room with her beside me. I was sobbing like a baby.

“Harry…” I heard her whisper.

When I lifted my head this time, she was right beside me, her face so close it startled me. Her hands were in her lap, and she wrung them like she was either nervous or was trying to keep herself from touching me.

“I’m so sorry,” I cried. “For everything.”

“I know,” she nodded. “I heard.”

“Will you forgive me?” I asked, turning to face her. I wanted to lift my hand to touch her face but thought better of it. Instead, I hesitantly reached for her hand. I was pleasantly surprised when she let me take it.

“Only if you forgive me, too,” she said.

I let out a deep breath and leant forward. I wanted to kiss her but wasn’t sure if she was ready yet. Lifting my hand this time, I grazed her cheek and wiped a tear away with my thumb.

“I still love you,” I admitted. “I never stopped. I’m just so sorry I waited this long.”

She bit her perfect bottom lip, her big eyes blinking fast.

“I thought I was over you,” she said. “I thought you were over me.”

“Guess we were both wrong.”

She leant into me then, and I took it as my cue. I took her into my arms and kissed her, like I’d wanted to kiss her for months. She felt so good against me, and I quickly found myself shedding more tears.

“We still have a lot to talk about,” she whispered when I released her lips.

“I know,” I agreed. “I promise I’m not walking out this time.”

“Good,” she nodded before kissing me again.

We ended up listening to the album again together while we prepared and ate dinner. There were more tears, but also lots of conversation. We had a long way to go, but I was hopeful.

Something had made me drive down her street. I guess it was me.

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