#vogue morning routine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonchildstyles · 2 months ago

Text

bardot

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

wordcount: 12.5k+

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

—————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Playboy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—————

"Thank you for covering, Gabby!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This place seemed much bigger without Misty at her side.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Um—"

"(Y/N)?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey, are y'alright?"

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

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

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

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

He was British. Interesting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And, you're not crazy, right?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I do, yeah. Like it?"

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

"Thank you," he smiled.

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

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

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

"Jus' straight home, right ladies?"

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

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

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

—————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Of course, (Y/N). Goodnight."

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

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

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

Harry Styles.

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

—————

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

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

350 notes · View notes

thatmoodboardd · 9 months ago

Text

#aesthetics #pinterest #moodboard #fashion #vogue #pink #pink aesthetic #morning routine

41 notes · View notes

huellitaa · 8 months ago

Text

౨ৎ ⋆｡• vogue beauty secrets 🐰 ๋࣭ ⭑

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ hair

don't wash your hair every day! i think everybody knows this but i know a couple people who still dont wash their hair only 2-3 times a week. obviously it depends on ur hair type but only wash your hair when it needs it!

don't wash your hair with scalding hot water either. its not only bad for your body and face but its also bad for your hair as it ruins the natural oils and damages cells etc

if you have frizzy or easily knotted hair i recommend keeping a comb on hand in the shower and using it to detangle before putting in any products

i've been emulsifying my shampoo for only a couple of weeks but my hair is sooo much fluffier afterwards so i definitely recommend that!!

now i'm torn on this one but apparently shampooing twice is better for your hair than doing it once? i tried it one time and it did not end well for my hair type but i know it works for a lot of people so if you wanna give it a try then go for it ♡

i squeeze excess water out of my hair before i put in my conditioner so i can completely get it in there without

also change your pillow case often! this is for your face too, as the oils will build up and thats not good for ur hair or face. i change it once a week but 2x a week is good too if you're able 💓

don't go to bed with wet hair. stop doing that. its super bad for your hair and keeping it pretty & fluffy & cute

airdrying is my holy grail, been doing it since i was little and dont regret a thing. its a billion times better than blow drying & makes ur hair so fluffy too ♡

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ body

DO NOT. HAVE. THE WATER. BOILING HOT. i am guilty of this and have been for years but it has such a bad impact and you shouldnt do it! cold showers are better but i prefer warm showers so theres a middle ground (& its always cold in england, so id freeze to death.)

using body lotion after the shower has been such a game changer for me its incredible. makes you smell nice, feel nice, look nice, and its so relaxing and i feel like a princess after i do it <3

exfoliating is really important if your aim is for soft skin 💓 i have been doing it for months and as somebody with super rough skin its SO soft now

partake in some form of exercise. i hated hated hated sports and exercise when i was younger but i did do dance up until i was eleven and have been doing pilates consistently for months now, and my mindset towards it has changed drastically over the years to finally a healthy one. it can be a difficult thing to get into but make it something you enjoy. it doesn't have to be sports. ill make a post on this soon but it can be pilates, kpop dances, running, hot girl walks, anything! and most importantly, do it for mental health and physical health, not losing weight.

make sure you're eating properly. remember that 1400 to 2400 calories of nutritious substance is the MINIMUM. this of course depends on many variables including, weight, height, BMR, what it is your eating, et cetera. your body is so important & is there to be nourished and not neglected !!! ♡ (💭🎀edit: updated info on calories and nutrition from a lovely anon i received a message from this morning! ♡)

change your bedsheets every week if you wanna smell good, this is so important bc sweat and odour will build up if u dont and thats icky and wont make u smell good & probably isnt the best for your skin either!

i also put two similar body washes on in the shower that i get SO many compliments on & its really helpful if one of your priorities is smelling good

dont just wash body wash straight off, let it sit for a few moments so the scent can actually sink into ur skin

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ face

skincare every morning & every night. if ur tired or just not feeling it today then simplify it, just make sure you never leave it out because its super important! no. skipping. no work = no reward.

on this note, try not to have a too complicated skincare routine, as this can backfire and make ur skin worse than before. your skin isnt meant for 18 different products and 200 chemicals every morning!

never wash your face with hot water... this is also a given but just in case... it strips your skin of its natural oils and does more harm than good

stop touching ur face... just for those who need a little reminder

make sure ur sleeping enough. seriously disney princess movies meant it when they talked ab beauty sleep; it seriously makes a difference, so please try make this a priority, especially if you already have dark circles like myself! (like girl did you see aurora's face? my girl's skin was so clear i could see my reflection)

pay attention to what makes ur face puffy or irritated or makes you get break outs. i keep a little break out log in my skincare page in my journal (little teaser for an upcoming post 🤭) and this has helped me go over what helps or hurts my skin! i recommend this especially if ur prone to acne or breakouts 💖

cold spoons in the morning to depuff your eyes; ive only been doing this a handful of times but im making it a habit seeing as it really helps! (as someone who can get vv puffy eyes 😭)

hydration is so important, for everything in this list, but most of all (from my experience) your face! i drink A Lot of water every day. probably a bit too much. but its so worth it, my skin has been absolutely amazing ever since i started actually making hydration a priority. (and this is coming from a girl who didnt touch a drop of water when she was younger & had to go hospital for dehydration several times.)

i'd recommend scrubbing ur lips too in the morning when you brush your teeth, i saw this on pinterest aaages ago bc i had super dry lips and i do it every morning & every night RELIGIOUSLY. its so so good and i definitely recommend

i have super dry lips in the morning so lip balm in the mornings w my skincare is absolutely essential for me

i also put perfume behind my ears & on my neck so its the first thing people smell when they hug me! im a very touchy person and i love hugs and i love showing love to people so this is essential for me but its optional, just makes you smell good ♡

810 notes · View notes

lovecla · 1 month ago

Text

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

quinn and madison through the years:

౨ৎ

_quinnhughes

liked by canucks, elblue06, lhughes_06 and 210,010 others

_quinnhughes lake day with the prettiest of them all

View all 1,983 comments

madisoncarter are u talking about lukey or me

lhughes_06 madisoncarter DUMB QUESTION he’s obviously talking about me

jackhughes luke pretty boy

user1 ain’t no way quinny can handle all of that

user2 Maddie drop the workout routine pls

maddiecarter_updates She looks unreal 🙈

user3 Cap hit the jackpot

conor.garland8 😱😱

౨ৎ

madisoncarter

liked by imgmodels, jackhughes, naomi and 710,001 others

madisoncarter had dinner at my favorite chicken wing place ever, _quinnhughes thought it’d be a great idea to visit me on set (he’s never coming back again) and PND concert with my baby vic 🤍

View all 1,308 comments

partynextdoor Nice seeing you again 🙂‍↕️

vic_alonso HAHAHAHA QUINN ON SET? WHAT DID HE DO

bboeser Captain looking good 😊

user1 where’s Bella 🤨🤨

user2 ohh to hang out with Maddie </3

_quinnhughes 😢

user3 _quinnhughes captain has seen it all…

user4 we NEED madison in another partynextdoor music video like right now

౨ৎ

_quinnhughes

liked by canucks, nicohischier, conor.garland8 and 290,997 others

_quinnhughes now i get to call her my fiancé

View all 2,093 comments

madisoncarter 😝

vic_alonso OMGGGGGG

elblue06 Call me right now!!! I love you both

jackhughes FINALLY

bboeser congrats cap

_eliaspettersson Yessss

jtmiller_10 Welcome to the team 🤓

maddiecarter_updates I’m crying

౨ৎ

madisonhughes

liked by lavieenrose, adrianalima, conor.garland8 and 620,102 others

madisonhughes today’s my best friend birthday. won’t ever be able to explain how much you mean to me, and how much the kids and i love you. you saved me in so many ways i could never repay you. happy quintin day to those who celebrate 💙 —lila, arthur and maddie.

View all 2,092 comments

canucks mama a beautiful family behind YOU 💜

njdevils very demure

elblue6 🥹🥹🥹💙💙💙

imgmodels Happy birthday Quinn! 🥳 🎂

user1 happy quinny day!!

_quinnhughes I love you so much

_quinnhughes you distracted me with the caption so i wouldn’t look at the last pic

madisonhughes _quinnhughes oooops

jackhughes happy bday bro

bboeser 🥳

lhughes_06 love u bro

౨ৎ

_quinnhughes

liked by nickharris_img, trevorzegras, conor.garland8 and 250,897 others

_quinnhughes Today’s your birthday.

You're a model, you've been on Vogue, Elle, Times. You're stunning in every picture they take of you, but these are my favourites, because you're not posing for hundreds of photographs or random people, you're posing for me.

You're my wife and best friend. I’ve known you for literally half of my life. You're the strongest person I know, and at the same time, you're the sweetest too. You gave me Lila, Arthur and Bella. You made me a dad, a husband, a friend. You wake me up with pancakes and you force me to watch your silly cartoons (that now our kids love too).

You're the love of my life.

You're mine, and will forever be.

Happy birthday, sweets. madisonhughes

View all 2,023 comments

madisonhughes you made me cry at seven am in the morning. i love you.

trevorzegras Happy birthday Mads!!!

nicohischier Maddie day :) beautiful couple

jackhughes happy birthday lil bean

canucks Happy Mrs. Hughes day!!! 💙💙💙

nickharris_img I MISS YOUU

vic_alonso yall goals af

user1 they’re literally made for each other.

#quinn hughes angst #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #captain quinn #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x model!fmc #quinn hughes x fem!reader #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes smau #TYPA

164 notes · View notes

j-doredior · 1 year ago

Text

I need my pinterest boards become my reality.

xoxo♡

64 notes · View notes

allywthsr · 1 year ago

Text

24HRS WITH VOGUE | (l.norris)

summary: Lando and Y/N are doing a follow us around with vogue during the summer break, and show what their day looks like

wordcount: 5.8k words

pairing: landonorris x singer!femreader

warnings: allusion to smut, nothing graphic, rage at mario kart

notes: my favorite one I‘ve written so far!!! Please comment your thoughts!

When you opened the door after hearing a few knocks, you were faced with a big camera.

”Hello Vogue, my name is Y/N Y/L/N and this is my and Lando Norris‘ daily routine during the summer break. Welcome to our Monaco home.“

You smiled at the camera and led it to your bedroom, where a sleepy Lando was laying. After sitting on your side of the bed you began talking.

”This is where our mornings begin, obviously. We like to sleep in, depending on our plans for the day, and cuddle, check our phones, and talk nonsense for hours.“ ”Or do things we won’t name here“, Lando added, smirking while you turned around, shaking your head with a smile, where you were met with his beautiful face.

”Anyway, we start our mornings here, just chill and you know, enjoy the peace we have during the mornings.“

The cameraman pressed the recording button to stop the recording and said: ”Can we get a few beauty shots of you guys cuddling and just being on your phones? So we can add that over the talking?“

You guys both nodded and Lando opened his arms so you could lay down, closing them around you once you did. You settled on his chest, laying your head under his‘ and taking his scent in. Cuddling with Lando was the best thing ever, especially in the mornings after you’ve just woken up. You closed your eyes and the camera made a little beep sound, signaling you that it was recording again. For a few seconds, you both were quiet acting like you had just woken up and cuddled, it was kind of weird having you filmed while doing something that was intimate, but you and Lando recently got engaged and everyone wanted to have their piece of cake. You thought doing one big video would keep them fed, so you could enjoy the summer break. Now the cameramen spoke up: ”Can you change position maybe take your phones and just pretend to check it?“

So you took your phones and scrolled on them, pretending to see the newest gossip that happened over the night. When you saw a funny meme on your Instagram page pop up, you let out a laugh, showing Lando, who started to giggle in his high-pitched voice.

”Okay guys, I think I have it, let’s keep going with your routine.“

You got out of bed and walked to the blinds that were shut.

”The first thing I do is open the blinds, I just do it very dramatically, because they‘re floor to ceiling ones and I like to have my moment in the morning“, you let out a laugh, opening them.

”As you can see, I‘m still wearing my Pyjamas, well, a shorts and a T-shirt from Lando, so the first thing I do is change or pick out my clothes for the day if I need to shower, but I already did it yesterday. So I‘m gonna change and you’re gonna leave me alone for a minute“, you pointed at the camera smiling.

In reality, he didn’t leave the room, but you did. Changing in the ensuite bathroom that was connected to the bedroom. When you came back, dressed in your shorts and a crop top, you stood in the same spot where you had the last shot, beginning to talk.

”Alright, I‘m changed. Someone is not“, you took a glance in Lando’s direction, who was still on his phone.

”He always tells everyone he‘s an early bird but he hates getting up. So I drag him out of bed.“

You took his ankle and pulled on it, trying to pull him out of bed. All you could hear was an unsatisfied sound coming from Lando, you let out a chuckle.

”Come on baby, you need to go to your training session.“

”Nooo, safe me“, he dramatically fell out of bed laying on the floor pretending to sleep again.

”He‘s always dramatic, I‘m headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth and do my skincare routine, he‘ll follow eventually.“

The next scene was in the bathroom with Lando standing next to you. He was shirtless and only in sweatpants, you almost started drooling over how good he looked, and he was yours, all yours. Thank god.

”Alright, we brush our teeth before we do anything else.“

Lando and you like to make fun of each other during mornings like this, pushing the other constantly or tickling on the hip. You squeezed the toothpaste on Lando’s and on your brush and put it in your mouth, brushing your teeth. The bathroom had his‘ and her‘s sink, yours being littered with products you claimed you needed every day. Lando always scoffed while trying to prevent an argument that water does the same as your products. Pulling out your phone, you took a picture of Lando and you and sent it to the family group chat, as you always do. Because you both moved out of your parent's home and even out of your home country, your parents called even more, missing you both. You promised them to send a message at least once a day, so you took a picture most mornings to send it their way. Saying good morning and asking how they were. Putting your phone next to your sink again.

You stood behind your sink and Lando on his‘, your elbow always touching his arm as you moved it a lot. ”Can you stop doing that? It’s annoying“, Lando told you regarding the touching, but you barely understood him with the foam that started to form in his mouth due to the brushing of his teeth. Wanting to annoy him extra, you pushed your arm fully against his and he landed on the wall with a stumble.

When he stood next to you again, he put his toothbrush under the water and before he rinsed his face, he pressed a kiss on your cheeks with his foamy mouth. You pulled a disgusted face and spit out the foam in the sink and washed your face.

”That’s where I am finished, I just need water and not all the products Y/N uses, my face is spotless without all of them. Follow me for more beauty recommendations or whatever they say.“ He went into the bedroom to change into his clothes for the day, consisting of a pair of shorts and a T-shirt he found in his closet.

”My skin needs all of these products because somehow men have better everything than women. Better skin, silkier hair, lashes that are perfect and whatnot. But yeah, that’s where we part ways, I continue with my skincare and Land-“ ”I mostly prepare breakfast for us, so follow me if you wanna see what that looks like.“

The cameramen set up a camera to record your routine while he followed Lando into the kitchen.

”So yeah, I begin with putting on this hairband“, you picked up your favorite hairband and put it around your head.

”I start with this cleanser“, you showed your favorite cleanser into the camera, ”I just wash my face with it, cleaning the dirt off my face that‘s on there after removing my makeup from yesterday and the dirt from the night“, you applied it with your hands and rubbed your face nicely to get everything off. Washing it off with lukewarm water, you took the next product.

”Then depending on what my skin needs, I have this pore minimizer that I love“, you took some on your fingers and gently massaged it on your T-zone, again washing it off afterward.

”Sometimes I get very dry skin like today, where I love to use a peeling. I love this one because it just does the job, isn’t super expensive, and smells like an Angel“, just as you wanted to show it to the lenses you heard Lando from the door.

”So it smells like you?“, you turned around looking at him.

”I love you“, you whispered to him.

”Lando sometimes likes to join me during this, he watches me a lot or even lets me apply some masks or whatever, but he would never admit it in front of the camera“, you laughed and touched his face with your hand, guided it to yours and pressed a quick kiss on his lips.

”I would never do this beauty thing, my skin is perfect without it.“ With a wink to the camera, he turned around again, probably going into the kitchen.

”Anyway, I love this peeling so much“, you applied it on your face and washed it off again after massaging it gently.

”Next I use a mask, I have a few that I love, but today I chose this one“, holding it to the camera, ”I apply it with this brush and then leave it on for about 15 minutes. I also have to say that I don’t do this every day, I only use the peeling and the mask once or twice a week so I don’t overdo my skincare. Too much can also be harmful. Let’s see what Lando is doing.“

//////////////////////meanwhile at Lando///////////////////////

”Yeah alright, welcome to our kitchen. My breakfast is mostly premade by my coach Jon, but sometimes, like during the summer break, I get to choose my own breakfast. Really exciting stuff. But because I‘m still a high-performance athlete, I need to watch out for my carbs and whatnot.

For me, it’s just a toasty with avocado and some chicken breast filet. And Y/N likes toasties as well with her favorite topping, but she also sometimes just eats a bowl of cereal depending on her mood. So I just place two toasties in the toaster“, he did like he said and pressed the button for it to start baking.

He cut up the avocado and took the chicken breast fillet out of its packaging while he waited for the toasty to finish. In between he made a trip to the en-suite bathroom, annoying you in the process.

After you came into the kitchen with your mask on your face it was time to eat. You all sat down on the table and chatted while eating, the camera was turned off and Lando had also prepared a breakfast for the cameraman.

When you finished eating it was time to record again, so he got up and pressed play.

”Breakfast was delicious and before you think that Lando can all of a sudden cook, it’s just an illusion. He puts the toasty on the toaster and I forbid him to press anything else on it except the toasting button because he‘d change the setting and would burn everything. I showed him hundreds of times how to cut an Avocado, literally hundreds, I even recorded a video once when I was away and he called me because he didn’t know how to. And everyone can take a piece of chicken breast fillet out of the package, so he ain’t no chef guys“, you cheekily smiled at him while he mumbled a: ”Can you stop exposing me please?“

You pressed a kiss on his cheek and got up, speaking to the camera: ”Anyway, next we clean up, unload, and load the dishwasher. I like to do that right after so it’s not standing around on the table all day. Lando also helps with that, before anyone comes at him in the comments now. He helps quite a lot in the household, takes the trash out because I find it disgusting, helps with unloading the dishwasher, and even the small things like cleaning our mirror in the bathroom every now and then. He works very hard every day so he doesn’t have to do all the work.“

While you opened the dishwasher to load all of the dishes, Lando passed you the plates, the silverware, and the mugs you used for breakfast.

”I‘ll just go wash this mask off and apply some moisturizer and then I am done with my skincare routine.“

”Alright now I have my daily workout session with my trainer Jon, luckily we have an apartment gym in our building complex so we don’t have to travel far, only down to the basement. Y/N likes to join when she has time and motivation.“

So you three went down the stairs to the basement where you walked through the door to find a rather small gym, but it had all the needed equipment for a session that Lando needed to do.

You walked through the door and were welcomed by Jon who did his warm-up.

”This is my trainer, Jon, he tortures me every day. He is the evil guy who forbids me from eating Kinder chocolate. It’s my favorite and it hurts me every day. Anyway, we‘ll do a quick workout, today is more or less a rest day, but because I need to be in the best shape possible I train every day, just some light training today, we will start with the warm-up.“

With that Jon, Lando and you started to stretch and warm your muscles slowly, while Lando did his thing, you went onto the treadmill to get slowly to it. You weren’t a professional athlete but you were glad that you had Jon by your side as well, helping whenever you needed it. He wasn’t your trainer but always kept an eye on you to teach you when you did something wrong.

So the cameraman filmed beauty shots of you both training, doing lunges, squatting, and some light cardio. He also filmed little shots of Jon, Lando and you laughing because Lando said something funny about his training again. Whenever he had to do his neck training you couldn’t do anything else than laugh. The way his lip twitches got you crackling every time, you didn’t want to imagine how you would look like if you had to do this exercise.

You both finished this session with a plank hold, where Lando definitely won, but you liked to challenge each other.

Going back to your flat you went into the bathroom, doing a light Make-up for the day.

”I have nothing big planned today, but I still like to look a little fresh, so I’m just gonna apply some concealer, powder, contouring, blush, eyeliner, and mascara. I don’t need much time for it, it’s a routine by now.“

You put all the products on and went into the living room and sat around the dining table behind your MacBooks.

”You look absolutely beautiful, angel.“

Your heart melted and you blushed a little as always when Lando complimented you.

”We mostly take the time after a workout to check our emails, messages, and whatnot. Lando likes to go through some data while I go through new music with my producer. But, if you follow us on social media, you‘ll know that we‘re currently building a house in the UK. Since we live in Monaco, we can’t be there every day. So we FaceTime a lot with the company that builds it. We have a meeting scheduled with them in six minutes actually, where we just see the house and talk about the progress and the next steps. The shell is almost done and they can finally start building the inside. I‘m really excited, you have no idea.“

You opened your laptop and waited for the call to come. Lando got you both something to drink, him a smoothie that Jon gave him and you got your favorite drink, you thanked him with a kiss on his cheek.

”Before people say, look at them they‘re so boujee, building a house and all that. We got a piece of land from my parents as a gift. Yeah okay, that is boujee“, Lando started laughing in his high-pitched voice and then continued: ”But just don’t be a hater, we never wanted to stay in Monaco forever and so we thought that now is the perfect timing to build a house, especially with the engagement and all that. We’ve always dreamed about building our own home, how we imagine it to look like and we’re internally grateful that we can afford it. It takes some time before our dream home is built, so we have to be patient.“

When he mentioned the engagement, a big smile erupted on both of your faces. Just a month ago he went down on one knee and popped the question, you didn’t even have to think about what you would answer. Shouting out the yes after a second of processing what was happening.

The cameraman looked up, ” Tell us more of the engagement. You‘ve been together for what?“

”He‘s been nagging my ass for five years now“, you looked at Lando with a smile.

”Yeah and she‘s singing my ear off for five years, I don’t know what’s worse“, with a serious look he turned his head to the camera before a smile came across his lips.

”No but it was romantic, at least for us. We‘re both not really romantic people, we both need our separate spaces from time to time, we also don’t light a candle just because we eat dinner or something if you get what I mean.“

”Yeah and we have a spot in Monaco where we like to go when we need to relax, it’s up in the hills where you can see the whole city, I found it when I was on a morning run“, with that Lando put his hand on your thigh and slowly caressed it.

”So we went there in evening, it was beautiful weather, and we just settled on a blanket like we always do. Enjoy the peace and all that. I just wanted to relax a bit and he suddenly started to talk about how much he loves me and how happy he is that we found each other, and I just was like ’ Please stop, I want to hear the birds chirping to relax‘ but he continued and I started joking on ’how much of a simp he is telling me that’ he did ask me to ’shut up‘ at one point. So when he told me to get up, I was not having it. I just settled on the ground, and then I had to get up again, the audacity of this men guys. But no I’m kidding, when I got up he went down on one knee and boom“, after the boom you showed your hand with the ring to the camera.

”It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Exactly how I imagined it to be. But before anyone comments stuff like ’ How did you not get it when he started his speech‘, I had a suspicion but I didn’t think it would happen that day. And he tells me often how he feels about me and us, call him Simp but it’s really cute. So it was nothing new, him talking about it.“

”So when’s the wedding?“, the cameraman asked.

”We haven’t planned anything yet. With Lando’s busy schedule, it’s hard to plan a date when everyone is free. But we take our time with this, we don’t have to get married tomorrow.“

Just after you ended your sentence, your laptop started ringing, indicating that a FaceTime call was coming. You accepted it and you both were met with your architect.

”Alright“, Lando clapped his hands, ”we finished our call and normally we like to go on a walk or something like that during the afternoon. Let’s go then.“

Lando and you walked hand in hand through the streets of Monaco, being stopped by fans every few meters, but that’s the price you pay. The cameraman filmed a lot of beauty shots of Lando and you, you were super excited for when you would see the whole video.

After a walk through beautiful Monaco, you settled in a restaurant.

”Sometimes we are too lazy to cook anything and we go out to eat. This is our favorite restaurant. I try to choose something healthy from the menu, but it’s the summer break, so I get to treat myself a little. I‘m gonna go for some chicken with fries and a salad, so I can send Jon a picture of how healthy I eat.“

”And I‘m going to take number thirty nine, it’s my favorite. I always get it.“

After lunch was served, and you guys ate it was late in the afternoon.

”It’s almost 6:00 pm now and we have almost nothing left in our fridge, so we have to go food shopping.“

You guys went into the store and Lando pushed the cart, often enough putting all his weight on it and sliding through the aisles.

”We‘re going on our holiday trip in like four days, so we don’t need as much as we usually do.“

Putting in the cart normal things like fruits and vegetables, some bread, things to put on top of the bread, and some drinks.

Lando sneaked a kinder chocolate bar into the cart, looking guilty at the camera while whispering to the microphone: ”If your Jon, I‘m sorry.“

You picked a yogurt for yourself and one for Lando to enjoy during the evening. As well as some toilet paper, some kitchen rolls, and choosing a new surface cleaner.

You went to the cashier and put everything into a shopping bag you always carried around in your purse, as Lando paid with your shared card.

Walking back home, Lando carried the bag in his left hand while holding your hand with his right. Talking with you about the most random things. The walk wasn’t long, just fifteen minutes so you enjoyed the view, walking through the old streets of Monaco was one of your favorite things to do here, just looking at the architecture was beautiful. It also amazed you every time how luxurious this city is, so many luxury stores were next to each other, Louis Vuitton, Gucci, Prada, you could go on and on.

When you arrived home, you put all of your groceries away, while Lando started to unload the dishwasher you loaded this morning. Putting the plates in their place in the cupboard as well as the glasses and sorting the cutlery in the drawer.

Afterward, Lando went streaming. The camera follows your every step.

”Lando is now streaming and I like to make him a snack that he can eat while gaming. We bought some fresh fruit earlier, as you saw, and I’m just gonna cut him an apple and some watermelon. He‘s like a little kid, I swear.“

After doing so, you went to his gaming room, knocking on the door so he would hear you through his headphones. You heard a loud: ”Chat wait, Y/N knocked on the door.“

He opened it and you were met with your gorgeous boyfriend, wearing his big headphones and looking cuddly as ever.

”I cut you some fruit up.“

”You’re the best girlfriend ever“, you laughed at the statement.

You both went to his PC and he sat down with you on his lap. He took the fruit plate and showed it to the camera that was attached to his desktop.

”Look chat, Y/N made me some fruit. She gets the girlfriend of the month award!“

Looking at the chat, he realized his mistake.

”I mean fiancé, not girlfriend, you’re right chat. She’s not my girlfriend anymore.“

He smiled up at you while you turned your head around to see him, pressing a kiss on his lips.

You turned around again and read the chat.

”That’s Vogue behind us, Chat. They‘re following us throughout the day. Stay tuned it’s coming up next week. No, we‘re not filming porn, what the fuck? You‘re Chat is weird Lan.“

”I know, I know.“

”Anyway, Imma get going, I have a meeting about my tour now.“

You stood up, but not before you waved at the camera and said your goodbyes. Ruffling through his curls and pressed a kiss on top of his head, while he slapped you on your right ass cheek for everyone to see. You gasped and let out a loud: ”Lando!“, before leaving the room and closing the door again.

”Alright I just have to put our laundry in our washing machine so it can wash it. It should be ready before we go to bed, so I can put it in our dryer.“

Collecting the laundry and the dirty towels, you went into the utility room. Putting everything into the washing machine, you started the fast program and left to go into the kitchen again.

”I have a quick meeting about my tour now. I‘m going on tour in three months and it’s more planning than some would think. Right now we‘re discussing about the final visuals I want to have behind me while performing. But I‘m not showing you anything from it, it’s going to be a surprise and you should see it for the first time when you come to see me“, you winked at the camera. ”I‘ll see y‘all later!“

Finishing your meeting after an hour, you went into Lando‘s streaming room again, sitting on his lap.

”Alright Chat, this is it for today, we‘ll go and enjoy the rest of our evening and so should you.“

You both waved to the camera and you saw the goodbyes rolling in, Lando ended the stream and you went into the kitchen to prepare some dinner.

”When we already ate some actual food, we‘ll just eat some bread or bread rolls or whatever. We bought some fresh ones today while shopping, so we‘re eating that tonight. I‘m going to cut some cucumber and healthy stuff to eat with it“, you said and prepared the dinner table. Putting out the cucumber, peppers, and cherry tomatoes as well as the bread rolls and toppings for them. The cameraman shot some beauty shots of the table and then you sat around it and ate your dinner.

When you finished eating, Lando passed you the dirty dishes while you loaded them into the dishwasher, you always did this, he passed you the dishes and you loaded the washer. It became your routine and you loved how you had your routines, it was like a married couple. It showed that you worked together and how you helped the other, whatever you did.

Five years was a long time, you basically became an adult together, and you grew into the person you now are, and only because you had the other one to help.

Sitting down on your couch, you sat closely next to each other, Lando putting his hand on your thigh.

”After dinner, we just like to watch movies, watch our series, play video games, play board games whatever. Every night is different. I don’t know what we‘ll do today. Lan, what do you think?“

”Uhm, I kind of want to play Mario Kart. Are you okay with that?“

”I would love that actually.“

One of the things that Lando and you also had in common, was the love for Mario Kart. I mean everyone loved it, but Lando and you had an unhealthy obsession with it. At least that is what your friends say. You could play the game for hours, only stopping when one of the others got too aggressive. Lando had smashed multiple controllers because of it. You yelled at him for throwing blue shells or sending red shells your way whenever you were first. You hit him multiple times on wherever you could reach when he played unfair.

”But only if you play fair“, you told him. He sat up straight and looked at you with an unamused look.

”Me playing fair? What’s with you? You always distract me with ways I can’t name here, who plays unfair now?“

That was true. When things went bad you only had one strategy and it was: Distracting.

You kissed his neck, you loved his neck and so you left little kisses on them, biting playfully into it, knowing that that was one of Lando’s weaknesses. Tracing your tongue from his ear to his T-shirt collar, and then blowing air on it. Leaving him shivering with the sensation. And if that didn’t make him distracted and driving into a wall, you would do things he could never say no to.

Touching his bulge, and staring at his face. And if he was that into the game, not acting up on your touching, ignoring you to get the win, there was only one last solution.

Getting. On. Your. Knees.

You would throw away your controller and sink in front of the sofa and tug on his pants until his member was freed. Then doing unholy things to him that would definitely make him forget about the game. Mostly he would return the favor, the game long forgotten, and spending what felt like hours on making the other feel better. Sometimes he would groan and blame you afterwards, that he lost but when you reminded him what happened minutes earlier he would grin and then make some cocky remark.

But that wouldn’t happen today. Not when the camera or another human was in the room.

So you just scoffed at the camera and rolled your eyes.

He chose Koopa Troopa, his favorite, and you chose your favorite character, selecting a kart, that would make you the fastest.

”One hundred ccm? Or one hundred and fifty?“

”Let’s do one hundred and fifty, I‘m up for a challenge.“

”Uhhhhh baby, you have no idea what’s coming“, Lando yelled.

So you started with the Mario Circuit, Lando won, but only because he threw a red shell your way in the last corner, getting you right before the finish line, which he crossed with a loud giggle and pushed your shoulder to mock you.

Next up was Toad Harbour, Lando‘s favorite track, he knew it like the back of his hand and aced it, of course. You tried to sabotage him by tickling his sides but that didn’t work.

The third was Sunshine Airport, you won. Flying through the corners like a bird, drifting your way around the track.

The last one was Rainbow Road. You both groaned when the random setting chose this track.

”Whoever wins, is the winner. Rainbow Road is only a track for professionals“, Lando suggested.

You nodded and prepared yourself for the screaming that was about to happen.

Looking at the cameraman, hoping he wasn’t too disturbed by you and Lando competing in the game, knowing how competitive you both could get.

The race started and you fell down in the first corner, being pushed off by some character, you yelled at the screen. Otherwise, you made it through the first two rounds safely. On the third lap, you were in second, and Lando in first, you drove through a question block and you got a red shell. Sending it his way he screamed at you.

”Stop with this bullshit Y/N.“

You giggled and he did a backflip on the track after it hit him. Now you being in first place your heart started beating faster, now or never. You already saw the finish line but then suddenly a bomb appeared in front of you, fully driving into it. You just heard a scream from Lando, you looked at his screen and you saw that he also drove into it. And before you knew it Baby Rosalina won the game.

”NO THIS CAN NOT BE IT, FUCKING BABY ROSALINA WON THE GAME NO!“

Lando going into full rage mode and screaming at the TV while throwing the Controller next to him and crossing his arms before his chest.

”I have enough of this stupid game, I wanna watch something on Netflix.“

You looked at the camera. ”That is something that happens whenever he loses. I‘m not that much better, to be honest.“

With that, you opened Netflix and you cuddled up to him, choosing the series you started two days ago.

The cameraman filmed some beauty shots of you cuddling and then went around the flat filming beauty shots of the apartment, you were curious on how the video would turn out.

Suddenly you sat up and Lando looked at you with a big question mark on his face.

”What happened?“

”Our laundry!“

”I thought something happened, god damn Y/N.“

The camera followed you to the utility room, filming you taking out the laundry, putting it into the dryer, and starting the dryer.

”It’s late and I need to do my nightly skincare routine, it’s not as big as the morning routine but I do some things to get ready for bed.“

You went into the bathroom and explained your next steps.

”First I start with removing my makeup. I remove it with this“, you showed your favorite product into the camera, ”I just love it. I apply it and it practically melts my makeup off. Next, I use this cleanser to make sure I am fully clean in the face and then I just use a night cream or an oil to give my skin the moisture it needs. And now is when Lando normally joins me for brushing our tee-.“

And before you could end the sentence, Lando walked into the bathroom settling behind his sink just like this morning. He took his toothbrush and squeezed some toothpaste on it while repeating the same on your toothbrush. Putting it in your mouth, you both started to brush your teeth. Instead of pushing the other, you leaned your head against his arm, slowly feeling the tiredness overtaking your body, sometimes doing nothing all day can be more tiring than having a big schedule. So you spit out the foam, rinsed your mouth and Lando did the same, washing his face after. You both went into the bedroom and put your Pyjamas on for the night, well, you again put on some random shorts and a T-shirt from Lando and he put on shorts as well.

Settling in bed, Lando turned on the TV.

”We normally just watch some YouTube videos until we almost fall asleep, we‘ll watch whatever pops up, mostly some sidemen videos. But now is the time where you’re gonna leave us, thank you so much Vogue for following us throughout the day and I hope you all enjoyed the video.“

You started waving toward the camera and Lando screamed out a: ”Peace!“

The cameraman ended the recording and you got out of bed. Thanking him for following you both through this day and accompanying him to the door, saying your final goodbyes, and wishing him a good night.

When you returned, Lando sat on your bed with his arms wide open, ready for a cuddle. So you took the spot and looked at the new MoreSidemen video that just came out, ending the night with the love of your life.

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #formula 1 #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #singer!reader

2K notes · View notes

coffeeshades · 2 months ago

Text

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART VIII

— i love you, it’s ruining my life

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who can't get their shit together.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 6.3k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). angst!!! cursing, age gap, mentions of alcohol and depression. feelings of hopelessness, anxiety. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: hello besties, here's the next part!! happy reading <3

masterlist!

Pedro hadn’t expected his career to take another sharp turn so soon after The Mandalorian. The call he received that night in January, while lying in a dimly lit hotel room in London, still felt unreal. Hazy, thanks to the Ambien coursing through him, but real enough to make him sit up in bed after the line went dead.

Something big was coming, and he could feel it in his bones. It would change everything—if things weren’t already good enough as they were.

A few weeks later, he was back in London to film The Bubble. Everything seemed to blur by—filming, meetings, and the quiet rhythm of his life with Julia. He hadn't expected to fall into a relationship so effortlessly, but here he was.

She was a producer he’d met during a project in Budapest, though nothing had happened between them until months later.

Late November, to be exact. By then, things had shifted.

Pedro was never good at deciphering if someone liked him or not, and maybe that was why, when she suggested coffee, he didn’t think twice. She was lovely—kind in a way that didn't feel overwhelming, and he liked the way it felt safe, uncomplicated. When she reached for his hand, the world didn’t spin beneath his feet, and that was comforting. It was normal, and maybe that’s exactly what he needed.

After that first coffee, there were more—turning into casual dinners, casual sex, easy conversations, and eventually, a steady progression toward something more.

By December, things had gotten serious, though Pedro still sometimes woke up disoriented, feeling as if he was living in someone else’s life. Julia kept him grounded. And though it wasn’t the kind of love that made him lose his breath, it was steady.

One morning, in early December, he woke to find a message from you. You’d mentioned him in an upcoming Vogue interview, a brief nod to his help in keeping you sane during those first chaotic months of the pandemic. Your publicist thought it might make a fuss for a while, and you didn’t want him to wake up and think someone had died or something.

Nothing too big, P, just the usual storm. Call when you’re back in the States. Miss you.

Pedro stared at the message for a long time, debating. You’d always known everything about him. Every high, every low. But now? There was Julia to consider. He sat on the edge of the bed, Julia still asleep next to him, the London sky a dull gray through the curtains. He’d thought about telling you about her for weeks—maybe he should’ve before New Year’s—but it was easier to let the conversation slip away.

Until it didn’t.

That night, at Oscar’s New Year’s party, when you found out about Julia, he could see it in your eyes—the hurt, the shock, the confusion. You didn’t say much after that. Just told him you hoped he was happy, and if he was, that would be enough.

But it didn’t feel enough.

Not then, not now.

•••

Back in London, the routine of it all began to suffocate him. He spent his mornings reading lines, drinking bitter coffee, and answering the inevitable buzz of questions about his relationship status. He didn’t care to comment. He didn’t want to make it official in a way that felt like another announcement to the world. His job was to act, not live his life on a stage. Still, the headlines rolled out, and his relationship with Julia became another topic of conversation.

The days passed in a blur, but something bothered him. You had gone silent. Completely. Not only from his life but from social media, from the public eye, from everywhere. He called on your birthday. Oscar had mentioned you hadn't planned anything for the day, not that he knew off, and Pedro found himself standing on the cold balcony of his hotel room, dialing your number with a strange urgency.

You picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

Your voice sounded far away, thin and almost unfamiliar, like a melody he had forgotten.

“Hey.”

There was a beat of silence, a pause where recognition should have clicked into place. Instead, you sounded distant, hesitant.

“Oh. It’s you.”

His lips twitched into a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, it’s me. Did you delete my number?”

A soft shuffle on the other end, like you were shifting in place, caught off guard. “No, uh, I just picked it up without looking who it was.”

He leaned against the railing, gripping the phone tighter as if it could bridge the distance between you. The cold metal beneath his fingers bit into his skin, grounding him, though your absence felt like it was growing by the second. "Happy birthday, mi amor."

“Thank you, Pedro.”

The way you said his name, the clipped tone, made something stir in his gut, but he shook it off.

“You doing anything? I heard you didn’t have plans.”

“Nothing really, maybe over the weekend,” you replied, but there was a softness in your voice that didn't match the words, like you were choosing them carefully, holding something back. “I know you’re in London; that’s why I didn’t—”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t call,” he interrupted, leaning against the cold railing. His free hand found his hair, fingers tugging at the strands, trying to steady the unease creeping in. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been... You know how it is.”

Another long pause. For a moment, all he heard was the faint rustling on the other end, like you were curled up somewhere small, the space between you both stretching impossibly wide. He didn’t notice the silence for what it was—didn’t notice the way it wrapped around your words, cloaking the pain underneath.

“I do,” you whispered. It wasn’t an agreement; it was resignation. "Listen, I have to go. Say hi to Julia for me."

You hung up quickly, the words leaving him cold. The last part stung in a way he wasn’t expecting.

Days turned into weeks, and though you stayed in touch here and there, your conversations felt different. Lighter. Less personal. He tried not to let it bother him, but it did. The less he tried to think about you, the more you occupied his thoughts, living in the corners of his mind where you had always been. It felt like torture, the way your presence always lingered even in your absence.

When Pedro finally posted about landing the role of Joel Miller, the flood of congratulations came pouring in, but only one comment left him reeling.

So happy for you!!! You’re gonna kill it.

It was from you. Simple, encouraging, and yet it twisted something inside him.

His birthday arrived not long after, and he found himself back in LA, where his friends greeted him with a backyard party under the stars. Sarah held a cake with a single candle, and as everyone cheered, Pedro smiled, but there was an immovable weight in his chest.

Later that night, after the crowd had dispersed, he and Julia escaped upstairs to his room. They ended up half-dressed, tangled on his unmade bed. She smiled at him afterward, her gaze hazy with affection. “Happy birthday,” she murmured, running a hand down his chest.

Pedro wanted to stay in that moment, to let it be enough, but his mind wandered. He had that feeling of wanting to be trapped in one place, wanting to dig his heels in. It didn’t need to matter that that reality was waiting for him outside the door. It didn’t need to matter that you hadn’t called.

April 11, 2021

London, England

Pedro’s mood had been darkening for weeks now, but if Julia had noticed, she didn’t say a word.

She’d taken on a slew of new projects, coming home late most nights, leaving him to his thoughts and the silence that clung to their flat like fog. Pedro found himself pacing the empty rooms when she was gone, unsure where to place himself in her absence. He felt the weight of insomnia closing in again, the recognizable ache behind his eyes making the hours stretch painfully long.

That day, however, his focus had shifted. He was set to present Best Foreign Film at the BAFTAs, and his stylist had dressed him in a Prada tuxedo coat, a crisp white shirt, and skinny-fitting suit trousers. He looked sharp, elegant even, and for the first time in days, Pedro felt something close to confidence.

He and Julia arrived at the event together, but they didn’t pose for pictures side by side. Still, photographers captured fleeting moments—Julia holding his hand as they stepped out of the car, a quiet laugh between them under the canopy of flashing cameras. By the next morning, their images were all over social media, sparking the inevitable buzz about their relationship.

Pedro ignored most of it.

Two days later, while sharing a quiet breakfast in a cafe with Julia, he opened Instagram out of habit, and your face appeared.

There you were, standing in the middle of some forest, your expression serene. The caption read: Surprise. A new album drops at midnight. In isolation, my imagination ran wild, and this is the result—stories and songs that flowed like rivers. I hope you love it.

The post had already gathered thousands of likes and comments, and Pedro’s chest tightened as he stared at the screen. The timing of it all was almost cruel, but it was the impact of your sudden reappearance that left him reeling. You had vanished from the public eye for so long, and now, with no warning, you were back.

That night, Pedro lay awake next to Julia, the persistent itch of insomnia dragging him out of bed. He moved quietly so as not to disturb her, slipping his earbuds in as he stepped onto the hotel balcony. His hands trembled slightly as he pulled up your new album. He hesitated for a moment, but he pressed play anyway.

For ten songs, Pedro was transfixed. Your voice wrapped around him, haunting and familiar, weaving tales of heartache and isolation. There was a rawness to your words, an unflinching honesty that pierced through the midnight air. He listened intently, picking apart the lyrics, wondering if they were about him, if the pain you sang about was shared between you. It felt like an open wound, and yet he couldn’t stop listening.

Each song was a confession. Each melody a letter never sent.

When it ended, Pedro sat in the dark, overwhelmed. The emptiness gnawed at him, and all he wanted was to call you, to talk, to hear your voice. But he didn’t.

A couple of weeks later, he found himself shamelessly googling you again, hoping for something—an interview, a post, anything—but there was nothing. You had gone silent after the album drop.

No promo, no press. Just the music and then nothing. He congratulated you once, a brief message saying how beautiful the album was. You replied with a simple, “Thank you. It means a lot.”

That was it.

July 10, 2021

Alberta, Canada

Pedro arrived in Alberta at dawn, the skies painted in soft hues of pink and orange. The cab ride to the hotel was quiet, his agent and hairstylist riding with him as they prepared for the long months ahead. Filming for The Last of Us was finally starting, and though Pedro was eager to begin, a deep nervousness tugged at him.

Julia hadn’t come with him this time, staying back in London for her own work. She promised to visit, but Pedro wasn’t sure how often. In her absence, he felt that familiar loneliness creeping in, the kind that terrified him, mostly because it left him alone with thoughts of you.

He checked into his room and sat heavily on the sofa, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes until his vision blurred. He needed to eat, to call his family, to ground himself in something, but instead, he grabbed a beer from the mini fridge and settled back into the couch. His fingers hovered over his phone again, the compulsion to check your Instagram pulling at him like a bad habit.

But, like always, there was nothing.

Your only other post had been a month ago, thanking your fans for the love on the album. He had messaged you a couple of times—small, inconsequential exchanges that left him unsatisfied. He didn’t know what he was searching for in those brief interactions, but whatever it was, it felt futile.

Then, ten minutes later, like a sign from the universe, you shared an interview. A video with you talking about your creative process. Pedro couldn’t stop himself. He grabbed his laptop, another beer, and settled in.

As he watched, he couldn’t help but stare at you. You looked radiant, sitting across from the interviewer in the backyard of your California home. The conversation was easy at first, touching on the album’s success, but then it turned more personal.

"The pandemic was really rough, and also life in general, I guess," you said, your voice quiet. "I found myself post-breakup, isolated in a cabin in Calgary, and writing was all I had. But the inspiration wasn’t just from that breakup. It came from years of… things."

The interviewer asked gently, "You mean the breakup with your most recent ex specifically?"

"Yeah," you replied, your eyes dropping for a second. "It wasn’t entirely about that. I pulled a lot from my imagination, I guess. The lines between fantasy and reality blurred, and I found myself writing from perspectives that weren’t always mine."

Pedro’s heart clenched.

"There’s a song on the album," he continued, "the final track. It’s haunting. You sing about being hurt by someone you love but being unable to let them go. Can you talk about that?"

You paused, taking a breath before you spoke. "It’s a quiet resignation," you said. "That person and I, we hurt each other, but I love them. So, I guess that’s it. It felt like the right way to end the album."

Pedro’s world stilled. He realized, in that moment, what he had been searching for all this time. He had wanted confirmation, a sign that you still loved him. And with every word you spoke, you gave it to him.

Filming for The Last of Us began a couple of days later, and though Pedro threw himself into the work, your voice lingered, ghost-like, at the back of his mind. Days turned to weeks, and as production moved into September, the physical toll started to wear on him. He spent long hours on set; the Canadian cold started biting into his bones. Bella, his co-star, became a bright spot, their energy infectious, and though they bonded quickly, Pedro felt the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him.

In the early mornings, when the world was still asleep, he would take walks to clear his head, the cold sunlight grounding him. Julia came to visit now and then, joining him on these walks, but they often ran out of things to say. He could feel the quiet disintegration of their relationship, like watching ice slowly melt into water. He didn’t know what they were holding onto anymore.

•••

When October rolled around, Pedro’s schedule clashed with the start of The Mandalorian’s third season, and it became clear that he wouldn’t be able to join the production on time. His agents scrambled to find a solution, but when Pedro’s stunt double was suggested as a replacement for the early scenes, he was left with an odd sense of detachment. And when his agent told him it had been your suggestion, something in him cracked.

The anger simmered for weeks. He felt foolish and abandoned, wondering if you had pushed him away to keep your distance. But then, just as the resentment began to harden, you showed up on set with two coffees in hand, flashing him a smile. "One iced caramel macchiato for me and one large quad over ice for you," you teased.

Pedro blinked, startled. He hadn’t expected your warmth. "Thanks," he managed, taking the coffee.

"You’re welcome," you replied brightly. "We missed you here."

"Did you?" he said, a hint of sarcasm slipping into his tone. "Because I heard it was your idea to keep me away."

Your expression twisted into confusion before you laughed. "I was just trying to make things easier. You were still filming, and I figured rushing back here would be a nightmare for you. I wasn’t plotting anything."

Pedro felt a wave of relief wash over him, mixed with the faintest trace of regret. "Well, in that case, I missed you too."

•••

For two seasons, your character hadn't seen his without the helmet. Today you were shooting the scene where, out of necessity, he reveals his face to you. It was written as a pivotal moment in your characters' relationship.

The moment the director called action, the air on set felt different. It wasn’t the usual hum of crew members shuffling in the background or the low murmur of cameras whirring. Instead, a heavy, almost sacred quiet descended, blanketing everyone as the scene unfolded. Pedro’s mind mirrored that stillness, a sudden and unnerving hush. It felt like everything outside of this moment ceased to exist, like time itself had bent inward.

And then—nothing. No words. No script. Just you, standing so close to him, your face inches from his, hands cradling his jaw.

You widened your eyes, a silent prompt, urging him to speak, to remember his lines. But all he could do was stare. He hadn’t been this close to you in months, hadn’t felt the warmth of your touch or the soft presence of your breath in what felt like a lifetime. His throat tightened, his words trapped somewhere deep inside. He knew the scene needed to move forward, but for one fragile moment, all he wanted was to keep you there, locked in this pocket of stillness, as if holding onto you would stop everything else from slipping away.

You read him, like you always did. You settled in, your hands still on his face, fingers pressing gently into his skin as if anchoring him. Then, softly, you filled the silence with a line—one that Pedro was sure wasn’t in the script, but it was perfect. You carried the scene, leading him back into it, your voice becoming the tether that pulled him out of the stillness and into motion. Pedro blinked, refocusing, forcing his body and mind to follow your lead as he finally delivered his line.

The scene moved on, but something lingered, thick and unsaid.

When filming wrapped for the day, the tension still simmered. You caught him at the edge of the lot, your expression unreadable as you approached him. Maybe you'll ask him why he froze like an idiot during that scene, or maybe you'll just walk past him without a word.

Instead, you simply asked, "Dinner?"

Pedro couldn’t say no. He never could when it came to you.

You ended up at a small sushi restaurant tucked away from the chaos of the city. The space was warm, softly lit, a sanctuary from the noise of the outside world. Pedro sat across from you, picking at a piece of sashimi, trying to focus on the conversation but finding it hard. You talked about the year you’d spent away from the spotlight and how you’d pulled back from everything.

"I mean, I’m doing this because I signed a contract," you said, lightly joking, but your eyes flickered with something that gave you away. "Disney has snipers; you know how it is."

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

Pedro chuckled, though he could hear the sadness in your voice, the weight behind your words.

"If I could’ve gotten out of it too, I would have," you added, your tone quieter, more reflective. "I guess I just needed to slow down. I’m tired of it all."

"You even skipped the Oscars," Pedro replied, taking a sip of his drink. "That's how you know it's serious."

"Yeah, I love the Oscars. Excellent champagne."

Pedro watched you closely, wanting to dig into your words to pull apart the layers of exhaustion and sadness you were burying beneath the surface. He wanted to offer you some kind of comfort, to tell you that he understood—that he, too, had been feeling the weight of it all. But the words caught in his throat. Instead, the two of you ate in silence, the kind of quiet that wasn’t uncomfortable but spoke volumes.

There was something about being with you, even without words, that felt…right.

Later, as he lay in bed, his mind kept returning to you, to your confession. He wondered what you weren’t telling him, what you were holding back. But as much as he wanted to reach out to ask, he couldn't.

The next morning, Pedro was on a flight back to Canada. The weeks that followed blurred into a rhythm of cold, grueling days on set and long, sleepless nights. He threw himself into The Last of Us, trying to lose himself in the work, but no matter how hard he tried, thoughts of you crept back in. You were there, always, lingering in the corners of his mind, and Julia could sense it.

She didn’t say anything at first, but Pedro could feel it—the slow unraveling of their relationship. It wasn’t sudden, like a crash or an explosion; it was quiet, a gradual dissolution. Every day, a little more slipped away. He wasn’t sure what he had expected from this relationship, from this life they had built together. Did he think they would buy a house, start a family? Had he ever really seen himself in this life with her, or was it just easier to disappear into hers?

Finally, Julia said it. Brightly, almost too casually. "I think maybe we’re done."

Pedro didn’t fight it. He didn’t have the energy. "Yeah," he murmured. "I think that was my fault."

•••

Christmas and New Year’s came and went in a blur. Pedro went to Chile for a few weeks, seeking the comfort of home, of family. There, surrounded by his siblings and nephews, he found a brief pause, a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in a while. But even in the warmth of his childhood home, memories of you still haunted him. He saw you in every corner, heard your laughter in the echo of the hallways.

One night, after too many glasses of wine, he called you on a whim. It wasn’t about anything important—just small talk, catching up. You sounded good, better than the last time you spoke, but there was a distance in your voice, a kind of finality that made Pedro’s heart sink. For some reason, he didn’t tell you about his breakup. He kept that part of his life hidden, not out of secrecy but because it felt irrelevant at that moment.

What would it change? What did it matter?

You didn’t talk much after that. Your silence felt deliberate, not like a missed connection but a closed door. It was as if you were telling him, without saying it outright, that this was where it ended.

In the days that followed, Pedro did his best to push you out of his mind, but it didn’t take long for the thoughts to creep back in. They always did. Anger. Sadness. Regret. They whispered in his ear, insidious and unrelenting, reminding him of what he had lost, of what he could never quite hold on to.

February 7, 2022

Los Angeles, California

The suitcase lay open on the bed, half-packed, with clothes spilling over the edges like an unspoken reflection of your mind. Each item you folded and placed inside felt heavy, as if carrying pieces of the last year with you. Taylor sat cross-legged in the chair by the window, scrolling through her phone while talking, but her words barely reached you over the noise in your head.

“I’m surprised you said yes, that’s all,” she said, her voice light with curiosity. “You’ve basically been a hermit for a year now.”

You laughed softly, your hands smoothing over the fabric of a sweater. “I needed the break, you know that. ”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t push yet. You were grateful for the acceptance, even if you knew she was waiting to bring it up again, the same way she always did.

“One day, you’ll tell me what really happened,” Taylor continued, her voice taking on a familiar teasing edge. “You'll tell me what had you sulking at home like a sad Victorian poet for a whole year.”

You folded another shirt and placed it in the suitcase before responding, “I’ve told you countless times. Nothing happened other than…he got a girlfriend, and I stayed out of the way. That’s it.”

Taylor squinted at you as if she didn’t quite believe it, her eyes narrowing with the kind of suspicion only a close friend could afford to show. “Aha,” she said slowly, drawing out the sound.

You rolled your eyes but smiled.

“I wasn't sulking,” you admitted, trying to keep your tone light. “I was…relaxing. It was my year of rest and relaxation.”

She chuckled at that. “Good one, smarty pants."

Outside, a breeze rustled through the palm trees, carrying the scent of jasmine and the distant hum of LA traffic. You imagined the street below, the shuffling of photographers leaning against their cars, lighting cigarettes, and murmuring to each other. They had become a permanent fixture, appearing gradually over the months, staking out your house like ghosts waiting for you to return to life.

It never ceased to surprise you how much people cared about what you did off-screen. You couldn’t just let your work stand for itself. No, you had to prove yourself over and over again, reminding the world that you were still an asset, still someone worth admiring.

You shrugged, half-smiling, but there was something sad in it. “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m only doing this because I've been dying to work with this director, and it’s a closed set. Once those eight weeks are up, it’s back to my hermit status.”

Taylor shook her head with a dramatic sigh. “So we’re missing the Oscars again this year?”

You threw a pair of socks at her, chuckling. “Seems like it.”

But inside, everything wasn’t as lighthearted as your words. Last year, you’d taken a step back from the spotlight, and while you didn’t want to attribute it to the hurt you were feeling over Pedro, the truth was, it had everything to do with him. Well, at least a huge chunk of it. It hurt not to have him. It hurt to see someone else kiss him, hold his hand so freely, so easily. The pain wrapped itself around you like a second skin.

The world expected you to bounce back, to emerge from this self-imposed exile with a smile and a perfect soundbite. But the truth was messier. You had spent a year nursing a heart that hadn’t fully healed. You loved Pedro in a way that still hurt, in a way that sometimes made you feel like a child who didn’t understand why they couldn’t have the one thing they wanted most. You wanted to be the bigger person, the one who could let him go gracefully, but instead, you had hidden.

You were blue all the time. Some days were okay; some days you barely got out of bed.

There were moments it felt paralyzing. The weight of the world outside your window, the expectations, the love you still felt for him—all of it crushed you. Some days, you simply couldn’t move. You stayed curled up in the safety of your blankets, staring blankly at the ceiling.

It wasn’t long before someone intervened. Your PA was that someone.

She didn’t push you at first. She’d just knock on your door, leave food outside, and ask if you needed anything. You’d spent three weeks in your room, moving only to get water or occasionally sit by the window.

One afternoon, Renata came in and found you in the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water. She placed a sandwich she brought on the counter and looked at you, her voice careful, but firm. “You need to talk to someone.”

“I’m talking to you,” you replied simply, taking a sip of water.

“No, you know what I mean. A professional. It’s okay if you don’t feel…” She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to.

“I’m fine,” you said, starting to walk toward the stairs.

“You’re not going to eat?” she called after you.

“Not hungry, but thanks,” you mumbled, disappearing into your room again.

But Renata didn’t let it go. She pushed gently, week after week, until finally, you let her schedule an appointment. She promised not to say anything to anyone, especially Taylor. You didn’t want to worry her.

The word depression had seemed too big to say aloud, too heavy, but that’s exactly the word your psychiatrist had used.

“You’ll need to take these every morning,” he said, handing you a small prescription bottle. “And it would be good to write how you feel. Keep track of things.”

You sat there, legs crossed in an oversized chair, staring at the prescription bottle in your hand.

•••

You watched from the sidelines as Pedro continued to rise, landing roles in The Last of Us, becoming the face everyone adored. You were thrilled for him, of course, but the distance between you felt insurmountable.

The only interaction you had was through a comment on his Instagram post, and even then, you weren’t sure if it meant anything. You didn't dare to call him on his birthday; you didn't want to stain his day with sadness. Every time you looked at your phone, tears threatened to spill. You felt as if the moment he spoke into the phone, you might collapse.

He's better off; he might not even notice.

The album you dropped in the spring had been a release of every emotion you hadn’t been able to speak aloud. Each song was laced with love and loss, heartbreak and longing; every note was a confession you’d never let yourself voice. You wondered if he listened to it—if the lyrics registered with him, if he knew they were about him.

That same week, you saw photos of him in London, holding her hand. You cried yourself to sleep that night.

The months passed in a blur of avoidance. You busied yourself at home with anything you could find that didn’t involve thinking about him. You did the one interview your publicist insisted on. It was with Zane Lowe; you liked him, so it was mostly okay. You found yourself talking about the songs you wrote during that time. As you listened to your own words, you realized that the music had given you a voice when you felt silenced by heartache.

It was a bittersweet realization.

By October, filming for The Mandalorian had loomed on the horizon, and when you found out Pedro was still tied up in Canada, you suggested beginning production without him. It felt easier that way, like a reprieve. But when he finally arrived on set, the connection between you two still crackled beneath the surface. There was an unspoken understanding in the way he looked at you during that intense scene—the one where your character saw his face for the first time. He froze, and you wondered what was running through his mind—what thoughts had stopped him from continuing.

You hesitated, but after the scene wrapped, you found yourself asking him to dinner. It was a slippery slope. You could pretend you were okay all you wanted in the brief moments between takes, offering coffee and smiles, but no one saw right through you like him.

Still, you asked. It was a small gesture, just a way to extend the fragile thread of connection between you, to hold onto him for a little longer before he left again.

But you’d learned how to stay in your lane. You’d learned how to love him from a distance, how to let him be happy with someone else. It was an act of love, really—letting him go, stepping aside to give him the space to live a life that didn’t include you. At least that’s what you told yourself.

Taylor’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “Do you think you could be a hermit in Greece next? I could use a vacation.”

May 29, 2022

Los Angeles, California

Between promoting The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent and wrapping up the final scenes of The Last of Us in Canada, he had little time to do, well, anything else really.

It was late May, just after the Star Wars Celebration. He’d worn a blue two-piece set that felt more like pajamas than anything formal, which was fine by him. Comfort was the priority these days.

But something was missing. You. You hadn’t been there. Out of everyone from the cast, you were the only one absent, and that absence settled like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

"She’s just taking time off," he’d tell himself, repeating the words like a mantra. “She’s probably busy; she's okay.” But the nagging feeling wouldn’t leave him alone.

Pedro had even caved one evening, calling Taylor. It had been late, after a full day of press, his voice rough from interviews and late-night whiskey. He had only meant for it to be one drink. But then he thinks back to the fact that you've plagued his dreams every night this week and that there was a song he kept hearing repeatedly that reminded him of you, and one drink had turned to three, and now here he is.

“Taylor?” He had sounded more vulnerable than he intended. “Is she... I mean, everything’s okay, right?”

Taylor had reassured him, of course, her voice patient, telling him you were fine, that you just were busy. Pedro wanted to believe her, but it gnawed at him. Something felt off.

He still woke up some mornings with the urge to tell you something, a joke he heard or a weird dream he had.

•••

By August he found himself in Spain, the arid heat of the desert sinking into his skin as filming for Strange Way of Life began. The project felt like a strange departure—something raw and gritty, something that required his full attention—but even then, in quiet moments between takes, his mind wandered. He’d sit in his trailer, his phone in hand, thumb hovering over your contact name, but the messages stayed unsent.

The days passed in a blur of rehearsals, early morning call times, and late-night script revisions. He spent his downtime with Ethan, exchanging stories over beers. But there was a quietness to Pedro that hadn’t been there before—a missing piece of him he couldn’t quite place.

•••

November 22, 2022

Miami, Florida

The night was sweltering; even by late fall standards, the air was thick and humid. Pedro was grinning, wearing a loose-fitting animal print shirt that made him feel playful, like he was stepping into some exaggerated version of himself for the evening. Lux was by his side, vibrant as always, their laughter mingling with the clink of glasses as they arrived at a wine event.

But it didn’t take long for Lux to notice the shadow that hung over him.

“You’ve been quiet,” she said, side-eyeing him as they sipped their drinks by the bar.

“I’ve been busy,” Pedro answered vaguely, swirling his glass and watching the amber liquid catch the light.

“Sure,” Lux replied, smirking. “And when are you both going to stop being idiots? It’s getting tiresome, hermanito.”

Pedro nearly choked on his drink, laughing in surprise. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Lux’s voice was matter-of-fact, cutting through his defenses with that typical bluntness only siblings could pull off. “You and her. It’s obvious. To everyone.”

Pedro sighed, leaning back against the bar, the Miami night buzzing around them. “It’s not that simple.”

Lux raised an eyebrow. “Really? You’re both so afraid of what might happen that you’re stuck in this limbo. It’s ridiculous. Why let it get this bad?”

Pedro stared into his glass, her words echoing in his head.

"Because I love her," Pedro finally admitted, his voice quieter, weighed down by the truth. He stared down at his drink, swirling the ice around the glass. "I love her so much I’m willing to let her go."

Lux didn’t say anything.

Pedro shook his head, a bitter smile playing at his lips. "I would only hold her back. I know her so well. She’d sacrifice things just to be with me, and I can’t let her do that. I would only hold her back. She deserves so much better."

Lux tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “And what if what she wants is you? What if she’s out there feeling the same way, thinking she’s the one who isn’t good enough for you? Do you ever think about that?”

Pedro let out a slow breath, his shoulders sagging under the weight of it all. "Of course I’ve thought about it. Every day. But what if I’m wrong? What if she gives up things she shouldn’t for me? I can’t let her do that, Lux."

Lux leaned in closer, her voice gentle but firm. "Maybe it’s not your decision to make. Maybe she deserves the choice. Don’t you think it’s a bit arrogant to assume what’s best for her without even asking?"

Pedro met her gaze, feeling exposed. “I just... I don’t want to mess it up. I don’t want to ruin her life.”

Lux smiled, but it wasn’t pitying. It was knowing, soft around the edges. "You’re not ruining anything by loving her. But keeping it to yourself? That’s where the damage is, hermanito. You think you’re protecting her, but all you’re doing is pushing her away. And trust me, that hurts more than anything else."

He had always been so afraid of losing you, so terrified of not being enough, that he hadn’t even realized how much distance he had created.

Lux’s voice softened again, the words cutting through the noise in his mind. "She deserves better, Pedro? Maybe. But who says you don’t deserve her, too?"

a/n: please like, reblog and comment! i love reading your thoughts!! next part will be posted in a bit ;) aaaand something might be happening ;)

#pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal angst #my writing #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic #love is complicated fic

158 notes · View notes