#when he first said it he was announcing my name for an award and i couldn't be like

[miserye]

there's a professor at my school who has been mispronouncing my last name (not his fault) for like almost a year at this point and i'm like dreading the day i have to say it or like someone who knows says it because i feel so bad that i've let this happen for so long but also i never have the chance to correct him and it's far too gone at this point

[sirenofthepacific]

How to not give a damn about the 3d

Hey alluring souls!

You didn’t find this post by accident. Fate led you here, because you were born to command your reality.

I was watching Tam Kaur, and she shared this brilliant idea:

Imagine you're in a competition, and someone secretly shows you the winners' list—your name is on it. You’ve already won. Would you care if other competitors said, “ There's no way you are winning this, I’m winning this!”? Would you stress when the host dramatically pauses before announcing the winner? Of course not. Most likely you'd be wondering when are they gonna call you to stage to give the winners award right in front of that girl who said you'll never win. You’d sit back, relaxed, knowing the outcome is already decided.

Then it hit me—why not apply this same mindset to manifestations when the 3D shows me the opposite?

What if your future self came to you and said:

“Psst… You and your SP are in a committed relationship now.”

Would it matter if, right now, they were dating someone else? Would it matter if their current girl flaunted how much he’s princess-treating her just to make you jealous? Or if she stormed up to you, declaring, "SP is mine, back off!" Would you stress over what they say or do in the 3D? No—because you already know how the story ends. (Spoiler alert: SP is already yours)

Same with your dream job. Even if 3D throws rejections your way, if your future self tells you, “Hey, I’m working at our dream company, and it’s amazing!”—would you spiral? Of course not! Because the outcome is already set, you know how the chapter ends.

Funnily enough, I unknowingly used this mindset before I even knew about manifestation. During a competition, I told my friend, “Let’s present our idea like we already know we’re the winners.” In the past, I had approached competitions with an “Eh, I’m probably going to lose anyway, so what’s the point?” mindset—and I always did lose. But this time? We won.

This is how you stop letting the 3D shake you. See the final results first, live from that certainty, and watch as everything aligns accordingly. And you'll stop giving a damn about the 3d because you know how the story goes, it's already yours.

[knightyoomyoui]

Perfect Night [+18]

ft. LE SSERAFIM's Yunjin (x M Reader)

NOTE: First fic of my 2025 comeback and marks as a beginning of my new masterlist! SUMMARY: YN and Yunjin both won an award in a Korean music award show. Coincidentally, it happens in the same day as their anniversary. They went home for an indoor date as a celebration. After the date, Yunjin doesn’t want it to be over yet so she requested one last thing for them to have fun and make their night even more perfect. REQUESTED BY: @dav1233555

WORD COUNT: 3100+ (told yall the 2k max for normal request plan still depends lol) DONATE OR REQUEST FOR COMMISSION HERE: https://ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui

The artists and their respective fans that filled up the Mizuzo Paypay Dome in Fukuoka, Japan has their ears and eyes all glued to the presenters of the awards for tonight’s 39th Golden Disc award show.

The two presenters were standing in the middle of the stage, the trophy in their hand, as well as their microphone to announce the winner of the category set to be awarded next to that deserving artist.

All of the nominees were shown in the screen, each earning different levels of cheers from their fans who made it in the attendance. After the familiar faces made an appearance, the presenters have been given a cue now to speak. “And now, the 39th Golden Disc Awards for the Best Group goes to…” the host flips the cover of the card to view the name. He pursed his head forward onto the mic and revealed: “LE SSERAFIM!” The blended sound of cheers and applause echoed around the dome. The camera then pans to the five members of the group that was mentioned all have the glee in faces hearing the name they represent called out for an overwhelming reward to their hardwork. They all rise up to their seats, lined up as they walk through the stage while being guided by the staffs of the show. As they made it, the hosts greeted and congratulated them for an another accomplishment in their career. Amongst the crowd watching, there’s you at one of the VIP tables along with other fellow artists eyeing with sincere support and happiness for that group, especially to that one particular woman who did the honor of receiving the award and came up to the front to begin the acceptance speech. Hearing your girlfriend, Huh Yunjin’s voice blasting through the speakers as she stated out her utmost gratitude for everyone who made it possible for them to bag an award tonight was music to your ears. There’s nothing more you can’t be easily get tired of listening than Yunjin in a bright mood when you know she can easily make your day as well. “Thank you so much to our FEARNOTS who voted for us and never stopped being on our side, appreciating our music everytime we do one. We will also continue to do our best on entertaining you guys, We love you!” Yunjin waves the trophy in the air as she was joined by her other co-members on shouting the last line. Before they leave the stage, Yunjin saw you clapping your hands and gave you a wink. You grinned wider and mouthed “I love you too” on her in response to what she said. It earned a blush from her when she understood it.

Another minutes of a performance from other artists have passed and now it was time for another announcement of winner in a category. This time, it was for the Most Popular Male Artist. It warms your heart hearing their cheers from some of your fans after seeing your face being one of the nominees. Whether you win an award or not, it didn’t matter for you anyway, as having a fanbase of your own already meant that you have become successful in your music career.

“For the 39th Golden Disc Awards’ Most Popular Male Artist, please come up to the stage:” “Yeah there’s no way I would be-”

“Song Y/N!” “Oh, wait what?”The spotlights, cameras, and people’s attention were all directed in a snap at your spot, looking confused and astounded. You weren’t expecting that this night wouldn’t be just a normal music show event you’ll be attending again, but there was something more for you to experience. You stood up and went to the stage. The emcees Cha Eunwoo and Moon Gayoung approached and shook hands with you before they handed you the award. As you stood on the platform, you took a deep breathe as you prepare your speech for the night. As you were there pouring out words that came straight from your heart, you were staring at Yunjin who is looking at you proudly. Her dazzling eyes and soft smile at you keeping you composed and more confident that you truly did deserve this award just as much as hers. “To my fans who keeps on reminding me that all my efforts I’ve been giving to my songs were always worth it, this one for each and every single one of you. We did it guys, thank you so much!” You bowed and waved to the public before you made your exit with joy.

After the show ended, both you and Yunjin excused yourselves to your managers and to her co-members that they’ll be meeting each other for tonight. They accepted since they are already the reason why. The reason that is related to your current private relationship with Yunjin. As Yunjin sneaks through the backstage with the help of her manager and some bodyguards, she then met you waiting at the parking lot. She dashes through you and you accepted her hug with open arms. “I’ll take it from here, thanks noona.” “Yeah enjoy your night, you two.” She greeted and waved away. As the manager brought the bodyguards along, Yunjin separated from you and glances straight through your eyes. “Look at you hotshot, winning an award as well huh.” she teased, patting you in the chest. “Yeah I didn’t see that coming. Thought its SEVENTEEN or others as well since they’ve been kinda trending all over social media too.” you responded humbly. “Probably you got back against them through streams and other criterias that lacked, I guess.” Yunjin shrugged. “But hey, there’s no doubt that whether you won or not, being considered for that award is already a big deal.”

Yunjin takes out her own trophy and clangs it at yours. “It’s just so happens that you were the lucky one to be chosen. Or should I say, WE?” “Congrats to us, love.” you kissed her on the lips. “There you go, savor the feeling of victory.” Yunjin said amusedly. “Let’s go home now. I want to get out of here, please.”

“Excited are we?” “More than you think. Well can you blame me? We’re about to turn our date into a double celebration.” She opened the door of your car and hopped in. “Damn right it is.” Both of you buckled up your seatbelts and you drove yourselves all the way to your apartment in Seoul. Reaching your room, you and Yunjin took off your shoes and placed your other belongings on the couch. “How about you go cook our dinner and I go prep up the table for us?” You originally planned to do all of this on your own and have her take a breather for a while as she rests because you don’t want to tire her more, but then again it made sense since this day is actually for the both of you and after you heard her enthusiasm earlier, you just allowed her initiation to join you on making this night special.  “That’s sounds good, let’s do it.”

You quickly went to the kitchen, prepare all the ingredients and cook the chosen food you wanted for the both of you that fits tonight’s occasion. Yunjin on the other hand was busy covering the tables with new cloth, arrange the plates and utensils, and and some bit of romantic element around the dining place.

Yunjin can’t help but to be shook and amazed that you were literally taking this seriously with the candles and rose petals you told to her to design with. Right when she created a lovely ambience, you have now served all the foods on the table.

Removing your apron and straightening the crumpled surfaces across her dress, both of you faced each other and looked at the satisfying result of your combined efforts to make your indoor date successful.

“Oh, be right back for a sec, I’ll just gonna grab something.” 

“Sure, I’ll wait.”

Yunjin watched you head through your bedroom. Her eyes widened when she heard the door open wide again and unveiled your standing figure holding a bouquet full of her favorite flowers in your arms.

“Oh my… YN, they look so pretty!  And these are- wow, did you seriously went with an effort of buying this for me?” she asked, with her hands on her agaped mouth.You responded with a chuckle before flashing a boastful smile.

“How could I forget? Happy 2nd anniversary to us.” Yunjin smiled. 

“Shall we begin our celebration with a toast?” She chuckled before nodding her head. Yunjin then dropped the flowers on the couch and gratefully accepted you gentlemen act of offering the seat to her.

As you sat, you reached for the wineglass, opened the bottle and poured each pair before raising it together with her.

“To our love and success.”

“And for many to come and last longer.”

“Cheers?”

You collided your glass gently on Yunjin’s before drinking the alcohol.

An hour has passed filled with your exchange of stories, laughters, and clanging sounds from your plates. You were already full and Yunjin was just emptying the bottle of wine.

“I think we had it all for today, huh.” You said. “Yeah, having an indoor date for the first wasn’t so bad after all then.” Yunjin shared her pleased reception for your decision. “Told you I can make everything wonderful just for my girl.” You squished her blushing cheeks. I’ll go to change now, babe. I want to sleep-”

“Already?” She interrupted you, snapping her head to your direction.

��Why? You haven’t had enough.”

“Nooo, I’m not through yet.” Yunjin pouted. “I still want to do one more thing.”

“Seems like you’re drunk now, babe. You really having fun, aren’t you?”

“Why, don’t you feel the same?” She playfully sulked. You walked beside her and pushed her head against your midsection, combing her hair.

“Stupid, ofcourse I’m not. I can’t get enough of you anytime.”

“You sure about that?”

“Mmmhhmm. What, do you want me to prove it to you or something?”

“What if I am?” She looked up at you. You saw the aura in her face changed into something seducive. Her hand began to rub through your shirt before her fingertips bump at your lowest button. “And I want you to show me in this way.”

“Would you do it with me? To make this night perfect?” She asked you breathily as she starts unbuttoning your buttons. With just a huff and a nod, Yunjin hastily then moved her hands toward your belt.

She unfastened it and opened your pants before she pulled it down. The outline of your hardened shaft laying diagonally against your left thigh made her bite her lower lips.

“That’s why you suck at lying sometimes, babe. Your words ain’t as honest as your body when you’re close to me.”

Yunjin slightly pushed you away for her to have some space as she knelt down before you. Cupping the bulge that charms her intoxicated self, she playfully squeezed it through the prison fabric before hooking her fingers at the waistband. “Mhm I love how huge and stiff it gets because it’s mine~”

That one swift move of Yunjin made you bare naked from below, especially your cock springing out from its confinement, pointing at her in which she giggled at how cute it reacts because of her despite of its dominating size.

Yunjin took ahold of your hardened shaft from the base and rained your entire length with kisses and licks up through the head. She finds your skin following her grasp as she strokes you up and down, edging you for a minute by releasing it and watching it twitch for her.

“Fuck, Yunjin. J-just get through it, please.”

Yunjin smirked, feeling an inch of pity for you. She fortunately followed, lifting your cock and sniffing its musky scent before directing it to her mouth and began sucking you. 

You released a huge sigh and placed your hand to her skull, petting and guiding her through your cock as she slurps your appendage inside her warm mouth. Her puckered lips crossing through the foreskin gets you gritting your teeth in sensation..

Based from your relaxed expression, your heaving breaths and trembling hands in her head, Yunjin can tell that she’s doing well with her oral performance, so she proceeded on coating your cock with her saliva, gliding her tongue through every inch.

You looked down and shivered, matching Yunjin’s stare at you while she gives you an amazing blowjob. She’s now sucking the half of your shaft with her fist pumping on the other. She released with a popping sound and sighed, gulping while she continues on jacking you off.

“Shit, Yunjin I’m about to-”

“You’re close?” Yunjin got alerted. “Give it all. In my mouth.”

You nodded. Yunjin returns your slimy cock on her mouth and did a series of deepthroats at you this time as you help her by pushing your hips. Each attempts awakens your senses more with the choruses of her gag reflex absence.

“Fuck… fuck, Yunjin I’m cumming.” You said. Both of your hands are now gripping on Yunjin’s hair. Few more pushes through her face, you felt a streak of hot spunk emerge from your tip straight onto her throat.

You kept her gaped mouth around the thickness of your meat for a second before slowly sliding her off and giving her a chance to breathe heavily. She then swallowed your load and licked some of your pre-cum in her fingers as well as some drops in your tip by tapping it onto her tongue.

“So yummy. That was a lot of a dessert.” Yunjin was impressed. “But I’m sure you still got more left in here, don’t you?” She cupped your balls and massaged it.

“Oh yes I am… and you can have it as much as you want, babe.” Confirming that you’re liking where is this going, you helped her to stand up and pulled her through your bedroom. You finally take off your coat and polo as Yunjin goes to pounce at your neck, giving you some hickeys to remember your heated session for tonight’s date once you woke up tomorrow.

You went through her thighs up to her ass, feeling the panties covering its smooth skin. She yelped at your touch before you stole a kiss again on her lips. Your hands went to the front to get a brush on her soaked slit.

Yunjin whimpered to your mouth. In return, she grabs your semi-erect cock and pumps it back to life. You lift off the hem of her dress and throw it aside, the red laced bra shielding her small mounds became evident at you.

Pushing your idol girlfriend to the bed, you bundled her skirt around her waist and tugged her panties down. Witnessing her dripping cunt, you didn’t want to waste the syrupy liquid so you went with a long slurp of her pussy three times until the juices partly stop.

Yunjin mewled at the feeling of your face against her ass and your talented mouth on the sacred cavern where it rightfully belongs. You kissed each of her asscheeks before slapping them in preparation for what you’re about to do after.

Pushing your now awakened cock again, this time to her tight inviting asshole. It slowly accepted your length, Yunjin shuddered at your cock invading her insides slowly but dangerously. She gripped on to the bedsheets as she noticed her body now rocking with yours as you hump onto her ass, skin to skip slapping playing across the room.

“Fuck, go harder! Shit, oh god how I’ve missed this so much!” Yunjin shouted, acknowledging the longing memory of the last time you and her did this before the long scheduling conflicts affected both of your sexual life.

You used the bundled skirt and her waist as a handle as you continously ravage her plump ass. 

“You’re so fucking tight, babe. I might not hold on any longer!” 

“And you’re too big! Fffuck I’m going first!” Yunjin elicited one last loud “ugh!” before you felt your thighs being showered with her squirt as you still played with her clit for stimulation.

You pulled Yunjin’s upper body, unwrap her bra which you threw aside like nothing, and grope her bare tits from behind. She kissed you to the side while she rubs her rear into your cock.

You decided to switch positions, with you now laying on the bed and Yunjin still buried within your dick, her sexy toned back faced towards you. She ain’t no dumb to miss the point of where it’s about to go, she then began to bounce slowly at your lap as you watched her fulfill her desire.

“Shit, that’s fucking hot, babe. Goddamn.” You sweared watching your baddie girlfriend twerk her voluptous ass against your crotch. Meanwhile, Yunjin is now eyes shut with horny evidence within her face doing what she loves.

A couple of adjustments of her thighs caged around yours as she rides you, she tries to stir your cock around her ass in different angles as possible while bouncing harshly before you decided to take the show to its end as you now about to reach your peak.

You catched Yunjin’s arm and spun her around to join you on the bed.She went close, you cuddled her and roughly pounded her from behind as you spent the last stamina you have in store to make this stunning woman of yours filled to the brim.

She goes along with your mouth, while you grope her breasts and fingered her fast to boost her stimulation. Yunjin moaned loudly at the pleasant effect of your manhood and digits taking control of stretching her innards.

“Oh god don’t stop, don’t stop! Fuckkk mmhmmm yes yes yes ahhh YN I’m cumming!”

Bump after bump after bump relentlessly to her abused ass, you grunted as you released another large load deep inside of her while she squirted another into your hands, staining the bed.

You helped her ride out her orgasm as you slowly withdrew your active fingers through her pussy along with few more curves. Slicked with her love juices, you slurped and gave Yunjin a taste of her own resolution also.

Slipping your limp cock into her ass, Yunjin holds your arm cuddling around her exhausted body as both of you rest from your activity. She gritted in satisfaction as she felt some of your cum escaping through her used hole, making a trail through her cheek down to the sheets.

“What a perfect night we have.” Yunjin said with a smile of satisfaction. She may have not looked at you, but the firm squeeze she did within your grasp made you feel its sincerity more. “I love you so much,YN.”

“I love you as well, Yunjin. More than you know.” You swept off some sweat and loose strands of her hair away from her beautiful face then smooched her on the crown before falling asleep together with her by your side.

[totalswag]

i love you’re writing so much!! keep it up ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

i do have a request, if you haven’t done it!

popstar reader wins an award and drew is the one who hands it to her? like they’re dating and he’s presenting the award she nominated for!q

forever grateful ⎯ DREW STARKEY!

authors note may i just say thank you 🥹 really means so much hearing this. i haven't written something like this yet. feedback is always appreciated <3

taglist ✎ ̼ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary drew giving you an award in one of the categories you were nominated in.

warning(s) none! bunch of cuteness.

Tonight marks the Billboard Music Awards. You've been having a great time with your friends, watching performances, and witnessing award ceremonies. Most importantly, Drew came with you as your plus one, and he will announce the category for which you have been nominated.

Drew was given this opportunity at the time the nominations were first announced. This is crucial for him since he has always wanted to make an award announcement. Drew said previously, "Imagine I announce your name when I present the award."

"Y/N, I can't believe Drew is announcing one of the categories you've been nominated for," Olivia Rodrigo stated before swallowing her water. 

"Dude, tell me about it," you giggle, "I think it's crazy, and we talked about it today," you explain with hand motions.

The lights dim throughout the arena, indicating that Drew is walking on stage. Your face brightened up as he walked on stage with the envelope in his palm. 

Drew walks on stage, microphone in hand, with a confident yet slightly anxious smile on his lips. He's dressed in a fine black suit, every bit the heartthrob the world knows him to be, yet your eyes is drawn to the faint twitch of his fingers, a telltale sign that only you would see. He's nervous about you.

"This next award," Drew's voice echoes through the stadium, smooth yet with a tiny hint of something gentler, "is for Best Pop Artist⎯an award that recognizes not just chart-topping hits but the artistry, passion, and heart poured into every lyric, every note."

The audience cheered and whispered names with anticipation. Applause filled the arena as the screen displayed the talented pop artists that received nominations.

Drew's smile grows a little wider, a little prouder, and his eyes scan the audience⎯searching for you, finding you. "And the winner is..."

"I'm so nervous" you mumbled to yourself.

Drew kept a straight face as he opened the card, "Y/N Y/L/N!" He smiles turning the envelope around before clapping his hands.

The room erupts. Applause, cheers, a standing ovation from some.

Your jaw nearly falls to the floor in absolute shock. This all feels like a fever dream⎯waiting for someone to pinch you. Only thing you could do was put both hands on the side of your head as you lift yourself up from the chair.

When you walk on stage, your dress shimmers under the lights. When you reach him, he hands you the award and whispers, "I knew it, baby."

"I don't know what to say, guys..." you start breathlessly, a giggle slipping through as the audience quiets. "This is a huge honor, and I couldn't have done it without my amazing team, my fans who've supported me every step of the way... and," your gaze turns toward Drew for a moment, "to the person who's been my rock through all of it."

Drew and you will always support one another. It's known that you both don't show affection in public⎯behind closed doors or with inner circle. Fans are gonna go crazy with this.

After thanking those who helped you along the way and those who nominated you, you were escorted back stage. You couldn't take your eyes off the gorgeous award in your hand.

Drew approaches you with a gaze of love and appreciation. "I am really proud of you, and we will celebrate tonight with any takeout you want.

Throwing your head back in laughter at his final comment, "First, I love you so much, and who can say their boyfriend gave his girlfriend an award," he chuckles, "and I will gladly eat takeout with you."

⎯⎯ my taglist! 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

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[harrysfolklore]

Tom meeting reader at an event and he’s just flirting the whole night and ends up getting her number

i watched the golden globes and got inspired to write this! i hope you like it <3

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

If there was an award for "most nervous person in attendance" at the Golden Globes, you'd have won it by now.

Award shows never failed to make your stomach feel in knots the entire time, specially when you were nominated, like tonight.

The Great had been a huge breakout role, a period drama that had captivated audiences and critics. Now, you stood among the nominees for Female Actor in a Television Series – Musical or Comedy at the Golden Globes, and you could feel your heart pounding as the moment of your category being announced approached.

"Love, are you okay?" you heard a voice calling for you, turning your head you realized that it was Dua (yes, the Dua Lipa) who was sitting next to you.

"Just a bit nervous," you told her with a small smile, "I think I'll head backstage for a minute, I need a breather."

She assured you with another smile and you made your way backstage, a commercial break started just on cue.

You had rehearsed your acceptance speech a dozen times in case you won, and also had a pep talk ready in case you didn't, yet the nerves persisted. You knew you were competing against some big names, and whatever the result people online would have something to say.

Your train of thought was interrupted by your body colliding with someone, almost dropping your clutch in the process.

"Whoa there, careful," a voice chuckled, catching your arm.

"Sorry, I didn't see where I was going," you said, your cheeks flushing from embarrassment, of course you'd run into someone in classic romcom cliche style.

"No harm done. You alright?" he grinned and you recognized him, it was the man who had been flooding your Tiktok for you page for the past month, Tom Blyth, "I'm Tom, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, I'm YN," you smiled back, "And yeah, I'm okay. Just a bit nervous about my category. Oh you're presenting it, aren't you?"

"I'll have the privilege, yes," his charm effortlessly showed, "And just so you know, I'm rooting for you. You were phenomenal in The Great, one of my favorite shows I watched last year."

Your nerves seemed to ease a bit, his presence and charm making you relax. There was something about him that felt comforting, even though it was your first time meeting him.

"Thank you, that's really nice," you smiled at him, "But I don't want to get too confident, the other nominees are just as great."

"Honestly, I'd bet my hat you're taking that Golden Globe home tonight."

Tom squeezed your arm gently and you smiled again, and before another word could be exchanged, a crew member's voice echoed through the backstage area announcing that the show was back from commercial break in 30 seconds.

"Well, looks like it's showtime" Tom glanced towards the exit, then back at you. "Knock 'em dead out there, YN. You got this."

"We'll see."

With a final wink sent your way, you parted ways. You returned to your seat and tried to enjoy the ceremony as much as you could, your nerves still in the back of your head but your interaction with Tom making you feel more at ease now.

"And now, presenting the award for Female Actor in a Television Series – Musical or Comedy, please welcome The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes star, Tom Blyth!"

You heard the host say and you knew t was time, and once again a wave of nerves and uncertainty filled your body.

The crowd erupted in applause as Tom stepped onto the stage, his confidence and charm shinning through.

"Good evening, everyone. It's an honor to be here tonight among such incredible talents," Tom smiled, "Here are the nominees for Female Actor in a Television Series, Musical or Comedy."

A video played showing all the nominees but you felt like your mind was numb, you didn't even realize it had ended until Tom's voice was heard again.

"And the Golden Globe goes to," he paused for suspense, and you could see a small smirk making its way to his face as he read the name, "YN!"

Time seemed to freeze, you tried to process everything as you heard the applause from the crowd and those around you congratulating you and before you knew it, you were on stage taking the award from Tom's hands and giving him a quick hug.

"I told you." He quietly whispered in your ear and gave you a wink, a moment that the cameras had caught.

You gave your speech, thanking your cast mates, directors, family, friends and the rest of the nominees. Once you were done you headed backstage with a proud smile and your newest award in hand.

The night went on and you definitely enjoyed every minute of it, mingling with other actors and thanking everyone who approached to congratulate you.

Once the ceremony wrapped up, you headed to the after party, you were sipping on a fruity drink by the bar when you felt a presence behind you.

"Hey, can I steal a moment with the newest Golden Globe winner?"

You turned around noticing it was Tom, he had changed to a different suit and you couldn't help but think that he looked really handsome.

"Sure, what do you need, president Snow?" you laughed, feeling a newfound confidence around him.

"How about your number? I'd hate to lose touch with Hollywood's latest sensation." Tom flashed his charming smile again, taking you by surprise and making your entire body feel giddy.

"Smooth, Blyth. Very smooth." Blushing furiously, you playfully rolled your eyes.

"Well, when you really really want something, smooth comes naturally."

And just like that, after winning a major award for your career and feeling on top of the world, you found herself exchanging numbers with Tom Blyth, excited to see where that would take you.

[1982grapejuiceblues]

New Roads, Old Rules

Official Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Stranger Lanes Part 3

Summary: Y/N and Harry arrive at the lake house and are instantly thrown into the fragile rhythm of group dynamics, uncomfortable reunions, and emotional landmines. Surrounded by friends who don’t quite know what to say—and exes who act like nothing happened—they try to keep quiet and keep the peace. But behind closed doors, a different kind of tension builds. Quiet. Steady. Unavoidable. As the first day ends, what started as survival begins to shift into something softer. Something neither of them expected.

Warnings: Emotional discomfort and social anxiety | Underlying grief and unresolved relationship tension | Passive-aggressive group dynamics | Mentions of past betrayal (non-graphic) | Heavy internal monologue | Insomnia / sleeplessness | Slow-burn emotional intensity

A/N: Okay you guys, here it is. Sorry it took so long, I just really wanted it to be perfect. Let me know what you think! As always, comment or reblog to be added to the taglist! Love ya! <3

Word Count: 8.4k

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They crossed the final bridge at exactly 4:13 p.m.

She knew that because she checked the clock three times. Once as they merged back onto the main stretch of county road that wound like a lazy loop around the edge of the lake. Again when they passed the sign that said Welcome to Hollow Pines – Est. 1894 in crooked gold letters someone had repainted last summer. And one more time—without thinking—just as the water came into view.

It was always the water that hit her first.

There was something about that stretch of blue between the trees, so sudden and vast and deeply still, that made her chest seize up. Like her body wasn’t sure if it was awe or grief. Like she couldn’t tell whether she was going home or running directly into the wreckage.

She pressed her hand to the inside of the window, not hard, just enough to feel the glass. It was warm from the sun. Her skin buzzed with it.

The lake shimmered.

The road narrowed.

Her breath caught on the edge of something she didn’t want to name.

She hadn’t spoken in twenty minutes.

Neither had Harry.

He drove like someone who didn’t need to announce it. No GPS voice. No “we’re almost there.” No last-minute check-in. Just a quiet, measured pace, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh like it had always belonged there.

His window was cracked. Hers was too. The air between them moved just enough to feel alive, like the car was breathing.

The playlist had long since faded out. The silence had grown roots.

Y/N shifted in her seat.

She could feel it—her body starting to pull in on itself. Muscles tensing, shoulders rising, chest tightening like it was preparing for a wave that hadn’t hit yet.

She wanted to stretch. To crack her knuckles. To open her mouth and say anything.

But the only thing she could think was: he’s going to be there.

Ben. Standing on the porch. In the same spot he stood last summer. The spot where he handed her a beer and kissed her forehead and said “I love this trip. I love us.”

And Claire.

Claire would be barefoot. Probably in cutoffs and an oversized tee, holding a glass of wine like she wasn’t about to play host to a party she’d broken. She’d laugh too loud. Touch people too often. Say “Oh my god, you made it!” like she hadn’t detonated everything.

Y/N’s stomach flipped.

She reached for her water bottle, unscrewed the cap, took a sip.

Harry didn’t glance at her. But she felt him notice anyway.

He always noticed.

The trees thickened.

The road curved left.

They passed a wooden sign half-sunken into the brush—Raven Rock Private Residences—and she felt the memory rush in before she could stop it.

That first summer.

The year they all took tequila shots on the dock and made up fake awards for each other. When Ali cried because someone called her “Most Likely to Start a Cult” and it hit too close to home. When Harry and Claire were new and quiet and curled into each other like a secret no one was allowed to name.

That summer, Y/N and Ben had barely fought.

That summer, she thought they’d make it.

Her throat burned.

“Do you want to stop before we pull in?” Harry asked.

His voice cut through the silence like a soft blade.

Y/N blinked. “Stop?”

He nodded. “Just for a second. In the shade. Before it… starts.”

She stared at him.

He was still looking at the road. Still calm. But something in his voice had changed. Softer. Not tentative. Just… careful.

Like he knew exactly how this was going to feel.

She wanted to say no.

She wanted to say I’m fine. Let’s just get it over with.

But she wasn’t. And she didn’t.

So she said, “Okay.”

They didn’t speak again until Harry eased the car off the road and onto a flat patch of shoulder just before the gravel driveway.

There was no sign. No gate. Just a break in the trees where the light shifted and the road disappeared between two mossy posts and a spray of goldenrod. The lake glimmered faintly through the trees to their right, casting thin, watery reflections against the windows.

He pulled to a stop under a tall maple that arched just far enough to shade the windshield. Killed the engine. Left the keys in the ignition.

Y/N didn’t move.

The stillness was immediate. Pressing. Like someone had shut a door behind them and sealed the moment off from everything else.

There was no wind. No traffic. No noise but the ping of the engine cooling and the soft click of the air settling around them.

She stared straight ahead.

The lake house sat just down the road—just past the trees and around a bend she could practically feel in her bones. She’d walked it a hundred times. Knew how the driveway curved left just before the porch came into view. Knew exactly where people would be standing. Which cars would be parked out front. Which voices would carry.

They’d all be waiting.

Ali. Eli. Maybe Jules and her girlfriend, if they’d arrived early.

Claire.

Ben.

She felt her chest start to tighten.

Her body didn’t quite shake, but it began to pull in on itself, like her muscles were preparing for a blow. Like her skin was trying to build armor from the inside out.

She pressed her hands flat against her thighs.

Breathed in.

Out.

Again.

Harry didn’t look at her.

He just sat. One hand resting loosely on the steering wheel, the other on his knee. His fingers tapped once, then stopped.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t shift.

Didn’t try to fix it.

And somehow, that made it bearable.

“I hate this,” Y/N said softly.

Her voice cracked like old film.

Harry didn’t flinch. “Yeah.”

“It feels like walking into a house fire just to prove I’m not flammable.”

“Mm.”

She stared down at the ridge of her knuckles.

“It’s going to be in their eyes,” she murmured. “That look. The one that says we don’t know what to say to you so we’ll pretend you’re fine.”

Harry let out a breath. Quiet, through his nose.

She continued. “They’ll act like they didn’t know. Or like it’s not that bad. Or like Claire didn’t spend the last two months slow-burning my life to the ground.”

He didn’t offer reassurance.

She was grateful for that.

“I haven’t even figured out how to talk about it yet,” she said. “And now I have to be around people who think not talking about it is the polite thing to do.”

Still, he said nothing.

She turned her head. Finally looked at him.

He wasn’t watching her. But he wasn’t distant, either.

Just… there.

Steady.

A quiet tether.

Birdsong trailed from somewhere behind the trees.

The light shifted.

The car interior was still warm from the drive, but the air around them had cooled. It smelled faintly like pine and distant water.

Y/N closed her eyes.

Let her head fall gently back against the seat.

Breathed again.

Her voice was smaller when she spoke next. Not fragile, just… honest.

“Did you expect it? With them?”

Harry shook his head. “No.”

She swallowed. “I did.”

He looked over.

She met his eyes. “I didn’t want to. But I did.”

He didn’t say I’m sorry.

He didn’t say That sucks.

He didn’t say Yeah, me too.

He just nodded.

And somehow, that was enough.

They sat with that.

Long enough for the moment to settle into something weightier than silence.

Then Harry reached for the keys.

Didn’t turn them yet. Just held them.

“Tell me when,” he said.

And Y/N—after three deep breaths, a glance toward the tree line, and one quick swipe of her sleeve beneath her eyes—finally nodded.

“Now.”

He turned the wheel. Drove slowly. The tires crunched over the gravel like it was warning them.

And then the house came into view.

-

The car rolled forward like it was holding its breath.

No music. No breeze. No small talk to fill the space between them—just the sound of tires crunching gravel and a tension so thick it wrapped around Y/N’s shoulders like a second seatbelt. The house came into view slowly, framed by the tall curve of trees overhead and the way the sunlight filtered in at an angle that made everything look too still. Too bright. Like the set of a play where she already knew she hated her part.

She could see the porch first.

Two rocking chairs, the blue one repainted since last summer. A small cooler tucked next to the front door. Someone’s sandals. A glass with condensation on the railing.

Then came the cars.

Ben’s. Eli’s. The silver Prius she knew was Jules’. Ali’s rental, slightly crooked at the far end of the lot like she’d pulled in mid-phone call and forgot to straighten out.

Y/N’s fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.

She hadn’t moved to unbuckle yet.

Harry pulled into a spot near the edge of the driveway, closest to the path that led down toward the dock. He turned off the ignition. The engine ticked. The windshield gleamed.

No one spoke.

And then—

The screen door creaked.

A figure stepped onto the porch.

Hair in a messy braid. Big sunglasses. Barefoot and beaming.

Ali.

She was down the steps before Y/N had even opened the door.

“THEY’RE HERE!” she called back over her shoulder toward the house, voice sharp and sing-song like she was trying to announce it before anyone else could. Like if she named it out loud, she could control what came next.

Y/N got out slowly, her knees stiff from the hours in the car, the weight of her thoughts suddenly too much to balance on such unsteady legs. She shut the door with more force than she meant to, slinging her bag over her shoulder like it might protect her.

Ali reached her before she could speak.

Wrapped her up. Arms around her neck. Chin tucked over her shoulder.

The kind of hug that knew things. That remembered.

Y/N didn’t move at first. Didn’t trust herself to.

But when Ali whispered, “You did it,” into the space where her hair met her ear, something broke in her chest. Quietly. Without fanfare. Just a little crack in the wall she’d been patching over since the text came through two weeks ago and sent her life spinning sideways.

She squeezed her back. Not too hard. Not enough to cry.

Just enough to say thank you without saying anything.

By the time she pulled away, her voice was steady again.

“Hey,” she said.

Ali looked her over. “You okay?”

Y/N offered the ghost of a smile. “Getting there.”

Ali nodded, like she knew better than to press.

She turned to Harry next and threw her arms around him, too.

Less emotional. But still real.

“You made it without killing each other,” she said brightly.

Harry grunted. “Jury’s out.”

Ali grinned, then looped her arm through Y/N’s like a shield. “Come on. Everyone’s inside. Jules brought that weird popcorn mix you like and there’s beer and the air conditioning’s working.”

Y/N let herself be pulled forward.

Each step toward the porch felt heavier.

The sun was hot on her back. The bag dug into her shoulder. Her fingers itched to reach for Harry, to grab a second anchor—but he was behind her now, just far enough not to touch, just close enough that she could still hear the gravel under his boots.

The porch creaked beneath them.

The door stood open.

And there—half in shadow, half in golden light—stood Claire.

She looked exactly the same.

Worse.

Her hair was up in a loose bun that looked casual but probably took effort. Big gold hoops. A linen button-up tied at the waist over a swimsuit Y/N recognized from an ad they’d once laughed about. She held a half-empty glass of white wine and a smile that didn’t touch her eyes.

She said, “Oh my god, hi!” like she hadn’t texted Ben “she’ll be fine, I promise.”

Y/N’s spine straightened.

Ali squeezed her arm, gave her one last look—You good?—then slipped inside ahead of her.

Leaving her alone at the top of the stairs.

-

Claire stepped aside to make space.

Her arm brushed the doorframe. Her wine glass tilted lazily in her hand. The porch light above them flickered like it couldn’t decide whether or not to stay on.

Y/N didn’t move yet.

She stood still at the threshold, just outside the doorway, watching Claire’s smile sharpen in real time. Watching her posture shift into something performative and breezy. Watching the way she tilted her head and said, “Oh my god, hi!” like she was seeing an old roommate and not the woman whose life she’d casually gutted like a ripe pear.

Behind Y/N, Harry stepped up beside her.

She didn’t look at him. But she felt the presence of him—shoulder to shoulder, not touching, but there. Solid. Quiet. Patient.

She could smell the faint citrus of his sunscreen, the edge of his cologne clinging to the fabric of his sweatshirt, the ghost of the road still lingering between them.

She exhaled.

And then—

Without thinking, without turning, she let her hand drift down and barely graze his.

Not quite a touch.

Just a brush.

The briefest flicker of I’m still here. Are you?

Harry didn’t startle. Didn’t pull away.

He shifted—subtle—and let his knuckles rest against hers.

Warm. Intentional.

It only lasted a second.

A beat and a half.

But it grounded her like nothing else had all day.

She swallowed hard.

And stepped inside.

-

The next two minutes were a blur of hellos.

Jules hugging her too tight. Someone handing her a beer she didn’t want. The sound of Eli’s laugh from the kitchen. Music playing from a speaker somewhere in the corner, faint and too upbeat. The ceiling fan clicking with every rotation.

Harry hovered near the door, his bag still over his shoulder, face unreadable.

Y/N wanted to look at him.

To check in. To tether.

But people were watching. People who didn’t know how much she needed that.

So instead, she smiled.

Nodded.

Laughed at a joke she didn’t hear.

Let someone take her bag.

And pretended.

Like she always did.

-

The door clicked softly behind them.

The second Y/N stepped inside, she could feel her body go stiff. Like every limb was bracing for judgment. Like the air itself was heavier here—denser with memory, weighted by history, thickened by the collective energy of too many people trying to act normal in a house where everything had changed.

The living room opened wide in front of them.

High ceilings. Worn leather couches. That same ugly green rug someone’s mom had donated five summers ago and no one had had the heart to replace. A low wooden coffee table cluttered with card games and half-sweated drinks and a single citronella candle burning for no one in particular.

Music drifted faintly from the Bluetooth speaker on the bookshelf. Some upbeat indie playlist, chirpy and harmless. The kind of music you put on when you don’t want anyone to think you’re trying too hard.

Y/N scanned the room, mentally tracking movement.

Ali was in the kitchen, pulling something from the oven. Jules sat cross-legged on the arm of the couch, whispering something to her girlfriend. Eli leaned against the counter with a beer in hand, already mid-story, hands gesturing in big loops like punctuation.

Claire was… everywhere. Laughing. Pouring wine. Touching shoulders as she passed. She moved through the space like she owned it, like she’d curated the whole night just to prove nothing was broken.

Ben sat at the table.

He looked up just as Y/N did.

Their eyes caught.

And just as quickly, she looked away.

“You okay?” Harry’s voice was low.

Y/N didn’t answer right away.

She let the question sit, thrum under her skin, echo through the space between her ribs.

Then she gave a short nod.

Not yes.

But I can pretend to be.

They both stood there a beat too long.

Long enough for Ali to glance up from the kitchen and wave a hand toward the table. “You guys want to sit? Food’s almost ready.”

Harry nodded and moved to set his bag down beside the door.

Y/N followed, slower.

As she passed the dining room table, Claire’s voice rang out—just a touch too loud. “Oh! Y/N, sit by me!”

It landed like a splash in the wrong kind of water.

The room shifted.

Not visibly. Not dramatically.

But the energy changed.

Y/N froze. For half a second. Long enough for anyone paying attention to see it.

Then Harry, without missing a beat, said, “Actually, I was hoping she’d sit with me. I need someone to explain Ali’s complicated salt preferences before I accidentally offend a whole household.”

The words weren’t dramatic. Not sharp.

Just dry. Low. Easy.

But they landed like a stone skipping across tension.

Y/N blinked.

Claire smiled—tight, too practiced—and shrugged. “Of course. I forgot you’re the salt whisperer.”

Jules snorted softly behind her beer.

And just like that, the moment passed.

Y/N turned to Harry, heart thudding in her ears, and muttered, “Thank you.”

He just nodded. No smile. No wink.

Just: I’ve got you.

-

Dinner happened like it always did the first night.

Too many dishes. Too many voices talking over one another. Inside jokes. Bad wine. A toast that started as a joke and ended with everyone awkwardly clinking glasses because no one wanted to be the one who didn’t.

Y/N picked at her food. Answered questions when asked. Smiled when expected.

But her body never fully unclenched.

It wasn’t the noise, not exactly. It was the undercurrent. The fact that Claire kept glancing over like she was measuring reactions. That Ben laughed too loud at Eli’s jokes. That no one asked how are you—not in a real way, not in the way that meant I saw what they did to you and I’m not pretending it’s okay.

And through it all, Harry sat to her right.

Quiet. Observant. Utterly still.

He didn’t speak much. Just nodded along, sipped his drink, offered the salad to Jules, and asked Ali if the pasta was the same one she’d made two summers ago.

But every so often—every few minutes—he’d lean slightly toward Y/N.

Not obviously. Not so anyone else would notice.

Just enough for her to feel the air shift. The space narrow. The edge of his presence brush against hers.

Once, when she dropped her fork, he bent to grab it before she could reach.

Their hands touched.

Briefly.

And when she looked at him—flushed, tired, grateful—he just gave her that same, unreadable look he always had.

Like he knew exactly what she was feeling.

And didn’t need to say anything about it.

-

The toast came too late.

They were already halfway through dinner—bowls half-empty, glasses nearly refilled, the kind of lazy, lopsided conversation that happened when everyone was tired and buzzed and trying to pretend they weren’t uncomfortable.

Claire stood up.

Of course she did.

She tapped her fork against the rim of her wine glass and smiled that wide, open smile she always wore when she wanted people to forget she could be cruel.

“Okay,” she said, bright and breezy, “first of all, I just want to say how insanely happy I am that we’re all here. Really. This trip means the world to me.”

Ali smiled. Jules nodded. Ben watched his plate.

Y/N stared at a smear of tomato sauce on the rim of her dish and thought about throwing it.

Claire continued, “I know we’ve all had a lot going on this year. Changes, work stuff, life stuff. But the fact that we can still show up for each other like this—god, I just think it says something about the kind of friends we are.”

Something twisted in Y/N’s stomach.

She reached for her water. Her hand shook.

Harry noticed.

His foot tapped lightly against hers under the table.

Not hard. Not obvious.

Just enough to say I’m here.

Claire lifted her glass. “So here’s to all of us. For being the kind of people who don’t let anything get in the way of what matters.”

It landed like a slap.

Y/N’s vision went soft at the edges.

She blinked. Focused on the edge of the napkin in her lap. The faint print in the fabric. The texture. The shape.

Jules raised her glass.

Ben followed.

Y/N’s hand didn’t move.

But Harry’s did.

He picked up his drink. Tapped it against hers. And whispered, just for her, “We don’t have to toast to a lie.”

She looked at him.

Really looked.

And whatever held her chest in a vice loosened. Just a little.

The rest of the table clinked and laughed and moved on. Someone cracked a joke about the garlic bread. Eli started talking about a podcast. Ali asked who brought the Cards Against Humanity deck.

But Y/N barely heard any of it.

She was still staring at Harry.

And he—calmly, quietly—was watching her back.

-

The dishes were cleared. Dessert was passed around. Someone opened a second bottle of wine.

And then, of course, the conversation turned to the cabin.

“So,” Jules said, dragging the word out, “did anyone actually figure out the room situation, or are we doing the traditional free-for-all and pretending we’re still twenty-two?”

Ali smirked. “I vote for tradition. I love watching everyone fight over the one room that has the window AC unit.”

Ben chuckled. “As long as I’m not on the floor again, I’m happy.”

Y/N froze.

Claire leaned in. “Well, we did sort of… pre-arrange some of it. Just to make things easier. Right, Ben?”

There was a long, dense pause.

Y/N didn’t breathe.

Harry didn’t blink.

Ben coughed. “Yeah. We figured since we got here early—”

Claire cut in, too quick. “We took the back room. The one with the closet. Hope that’s okay!”

The silence was thunderous.

No one said anything. Not really.

Eli raised his eyebrows. Jules glanced at Ali. Ali stared at her drink.

Y/N felt her ears buzzing.

Like the room was underwater.

Like her skin was too tight.

Like she couldn’t possibly sit there one more second without either laughing or screaming or crawling under the table and dissolving into salt and bone.

But then—

Harry shifted.

Just enough that his shoulder brushed hers.

Warm. Present. Grounding.

And without looking at her, without turning his head or clearing his throat or making it into anything more than what it was, he said, “We’ll take the front one.”

Claire looked up.

Y/N did too.

He met Claire’s gaze without flinching. “Hope that’s okay.”

It wasn’t a question.

It was a decision.

Claire’s mouth opened. Closed.

Then she smiled.

Tight. Thin. “Of course.”

Y/N said nothing.

But under the table, her foot found Harry’s again.

And this time?

She left it there.

-

The wine bottles were half-empty by the time the group started to drift.

Jules grabbed her girlfriend’s hand and disappeared onto the back porch with a bottle of rosé. Eli claimed the pullout couch like it was a throne, flipping through TV options and loudly rejecting everything he landed on. Claire offered to make tea no one asked for. Ali started sorting leftovers with quiet, purposeful efficiency, like she couldn’t sit still or she’d drown.

Y/N stayed where she was.

Still seated at the dining room table, empty fork resting on an untouched plate, spine straight as a ruler and throat full of fire.

Her gaze was fixed somewhere in the middle distance—on a dark smudge near the baseboard. A water stain, maybe. A knot in the wood. Anything but the reality of what had just happened.

She could still hear Claire’s voice, echoing in her head.

We took the back room. The one with the closet.

As if it hadn’t once been her room. As if it hadn’t once held the sweater she’d left behind last summer, the novel with the folded page still in the drawer, the sweatshirt Ben used to steal when the nights got cold.

She pressed her thumbnail into the curve of her palm and tried to breathe through it.

Harry stood slowly.

Not loud. Not abrupt. Just enough to pull her out of the spiral.

“You ready?” he asked.

Simple question.

Weighted like a boulder.

She nodded once, careful not to let her voice crack. “Yeah.”

They didn’t look at anyone else.

Didn’t say goodnight.

They just left.

-

The hallway was dim.

The air smelled like cedar and dust and something faintly sweet—maybe candle wax, maybe spilled wine, maybe the ghost of a summer that didn’t belong to her anymore.

Y/N walked ahead, her feet light against the wooden floorboards, her hand still curled in the hem of her sleeve.

She didn’t speak.

Harry didn’t either.

They reached the front bedroom in silence.

He pushed the door open gently.

The hallway was dim.

The air smelled like cedar and dust and something faintly sweet—maybe candle wax, maybe spilled wine, maybe the ghost of a summer that didn’t belong to her anymore.

Y/N walked ahead, her feet light against the wooden floorboards, her hand still curled in the hem of her sleeve.

She didn’t speak.

Harry didn’t either.

They reached the front bedroom in silence.

He pushed the door open gently.

Harry turned.

His voice was low. “You okay?”

She shook her head.

Then nodded.

Then finally said, “No.”

He didn’t respond.

Didn’t nod.

Didn’t say that makes sense or me neither or we’ll be fine.

He just looked at her.

And something in his expression cracked open.

Not pity.

Not concern.

Just recognition.

Like he saw her exactly as she was—and wasn’t afraid of it.

She walked in.

The door clicked shut behind her.

The air changed.

It was quiet here. Too quiet. She could hear the fan overhead. The wind through the screen. The blood in her ears.

She stood near the dresser, fingers twitching slightly, like her body didn’t know where to land.

Harry stepped to the window and opened it wider.

The breeze shifted the curtain. It floated softly into the room, brushing the frame before falling back again.

They both watched it move.

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed.

Her shoulders slumped.

Her spine folded.

And for the first time all day, she let herself look at him like she meant it.

Harry was standing by the window, arms crossed loosely, hair falling over his forehead in waves. His eyes were on the trees beyond the glass—but his body was turned slightly toward her. Just enough to say I know you’re watching.

She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

He glanced at her. “For what?”

“For dinner. For the room. For… the fork. All of it.”

He didn’t smile. But something shifted.

“You didn’t need saving,” he said.

She scoffed. “I absolutely did.”

He shook his head. “You were surviving. I just stepped in where it was stupid for you to do it alone.”

She tilted her head. “Is that your thing? Stepping in?”

His gaze didn’t move. “Only when you need me to”

Silence stretched.

Heavy. Familiar.

But not uncomfortable.

Not anymore.

“You really hate her, don’t you?” Y/N asked quietly.

Harry didn’t flinch. “I don’t know if I hate her.”

“Why not?”

“Because that would mean she still has space to take up.”

Y/N blinked.

God, she envied that.

She wasn’t there yet. She still felt Claire in every room.

Still felt Ben in every conversation.

Still felt the parts of herself she’d sanded down to make space for people who never stopped taking.

Harry looked at her again.

Really looked.

And the weight of that gaze made something in her chest ache.

She lay back on the bed without thinking.

Shoes still on.

Bag still by her side.

She stared at the ceiling fan and blinked against the burn behind her eyes.

The bed creaked slightly under her weight.

A second later, the mattress dipped beside her.

She turned her head.

Harry sat on the edge. Not facing her. Just… close.

Enough to feel the warmth of him.

Enough to remember the drive. The silence. The foot tapping under the table. The fork.

The room was dim now. The curtain swayed. Her fingers ached from being curled too tightly for too long.

She reached up.

Flicked a piece of lint off the hem of his sweatshirt.

His breath hitched.

Not audibly. Not dramatically.

But she felt it.

She pulled her hand back slowly.

“I don’t know if I can do this for a week,” she whispered.

Harry didn’t move.

But after a beat, he said, “You don’t have to.”

She turned toward him. “What?”

“You don’t have to do anything. You can sit out. Stay in here. Walk away.”

“I can’t.”

“You can,” he said simply. “I’ll cover for you.”

She looked at him.

At the slope of his shoulder.

At the tendon in his throat.

At the way his hands rested—open-palmed, knees apart, like he wasn’t trying to protect anything.

“You would do that?”

“Already am.”

And that was the thing, wasn’t it?

He already was.

From the moment they left. From the first hour in the car. From the fork on the floor to the foot beneath the table to the space beside her in the doorway.

He was the only person who hadn’t looked at her like she was about to fall apart.

He looked at her like she already had—and was still standing anyway.

The fan creaked above them, soft and irregular—three turns smooth, then a faint hitch, like the blades weren’t perfectly balanced.

The breeze through the window had cooled a little, sharp around the edges now that the sun had fully dipped behind the trees. Outside, the lake hummed in low, muffled sounds—distant insects, an occasional splash, laughter from the back porch still bleeding into the air like smoke.

Inside the room, it was just them.

No music. No chatter. No more pretending.

Just one mattress, one quiet body next to another, and the air so thick with unspoken things it could’ve drowned them both.

Harry still sat beside her.

His shoulders slightly hunched, back curved just enough to look like he wasn’t used to staying still this long. His eyes hadn’t moved from the window in minutes, but Y/N could feel him watching her without turning.

Not directly. Not head-on.

But aware. Present.

Like he was holding his breath beside her and letting her exhale for the both of them.

Y/N shifted. Not away—just enough to roll onto her side, eyes tracing the line of his arm from wrist to elbow, where his sleeve had pushed up just enough to show a pale stretch of forearm and the edge of a scar she didn’t know the story behind.

She didn’t ask.

She didn’t need to.

It felt too intimate already, just being allowed to look.

“You don’t talk much,” she said softly, almost to the ceiling.

Harry’s lips twitched. “You make up for it.”

She huffed a faint laugh, but didn’t look away. “Is that a dig?”

“Compliment.”

“Sure it is.”

He finally glanced down at her then—just a tilt of the head, just enough shadow on his face to make the green of his eyes look darker than usual.

“You talk like someone who’s used to not being heard,” he said.

The breath left her lungs too fast.

She blinked.

And then, before she could think better of it, whispered, “You listen like someone who’s always waiting to be needed.”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t deny it.

Just nodded once, slowly. Like that hurt a little. Like she wasn’t wrong.

The silence after that felt different. Less like a weight. More like a thread—thin, invisible, running between them. Not pulled tight. But there.

Tangible.

Tethered.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she murmured after a while.

Harry didn’t ask what.

He didn’t need to.

He was quiet for a long time. Then said, “You don’t have to know.”

“I feel like I’m supposed to.”

“Why?”

“Because she does.” The words spilled out before she could catch them. “Claire always knows how to perform. How to play the part. And I just—I never know what to do with my hands.”

Harry’s head tipped a little. Not mocking. Just thoughtful.

“Maybe that’s the part she envies,” he said.

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“You don’t pretend well. She does. But you… you’re real. Even when it’s messy.”

She stared at him.

He didn’t look away.

“Are you trying to compliment me?” she asked finally, because her throat felt too tight not to fill the space with something.

“Not very well, apparently.”

“Well, keep practicing.”

He looked at her again, more fully this time.

And something in his gaze softened—like the last inch of armor had finally dropped.

She sat up before she could overthink it.

Crossed her legs on the bed. Let the sheet wrinkle beneath her. Tucked her knees in and stared down at the weave of the blanket between them.

“I feel like I’m walking around without skin,” she whispered. “Like everyone’s looking at me and seeing a version of myself that doesn’t fit anymore.”

Harry shifted.

She felt the mattress pull slightly toward him. The heat of his knee close to hers, not touching, but there.

“Maybe they are,” he said. “But you’re the only one who gets to decide what happens next.”

She didn’t respond.

Didn’t trust herself to.

So she let the words hang in the space between them like a threadbare sheet—light and worn and too delicate to hold anything, but still real.

-

It was nearly midnight when she finally stood to change.

He turned his back without her asking.

Stayed that way until she whispered “Okay,” voice quiet from the far corner of the room.

When he turned again, she was in an oversized t-shirt and bike shorts, one hand bracing the windowsill like she needed the grounding. Her hair was a little messy. Her eyes were puffy. She looked undone.

She looked beautiful.

Not in the way people threw the word around—effortlessly or performatively or just to fill the space.

She looked beautiful because she wasn’t hiding anymore.

Harry lay down in his bed.

Y/N climbed into hers.

For a long time, they said nothing.

The breeze shifted.

The curtain moved.

And just before the quiet could settle too deeply into sleep, her voice reached across the dark.

“Harry?”

He hummed.

“You’re the only part of today that didn’t hurt.”

His breath hitched.

She couldn’t see his face.

But she felt the weight of his silence like a hand on her back.

After a beat, he whispered, “You too.”

The house had gone still.

The porch had quieted. The back door had creaked shut. The voices had lowered, one by one, as doors closed and lights flicked off. Even the fan overhead seemed to be spinning slower now, the room dipping into that strange space between night and not-quite-sleep.

Harry had already changed—quietly, deliberately—while Y/N curled in her own bed, eyes on the ceiling, pretending not to notice the soft rustle of fabric and the occasional click of a zipper.

She hadn’t moved since.

-

The silence stretched between them like thread—thin and invisible and so easy to snap.

But no one did.

They hadn’t spoken in a while. Not since she told him, You’re the only part of today that didn’t hurt.

He hadn’t responded with words. Not after that. Just lay there, still as stone, breathing carefully, like if he exhaled too loudly the moment might evaporate.

Now, her eyes had adjusted enough to make out the shape of him across the room. One arm folded beneath his pillow. His hair falling forward into his eyes, shadowed but soft. His chest rising and falling, steady.

She wondered if he knew she was still awake.

She wondered if he was, too.

She turned onto her side. Slowly. Quietly.

The sheet whispered across her skin.

She was hyper-aware of every shift in her own body. The creak of the mattress, the faint press of air against her ankles. The warmth beneath the blanket that now felt too warm, the room too still. Like even her heartbeat was echoing back too loudly.

There was something too naked about the space between their beds.

Not in a literal way.

But in the way that everything between them felt… exposed now.

No more group. No more cover. No more noise.

Just her.

And Harry.

And a whole day’s worth of unspoken weight.

She blinked into the dark.

Her voice, when it came, surprised her.

“Can I tell you something kind of stupid?”

Harry didn’t answer right away.

Then, quietly: “Always.”

She inhaled. Held it. Let it go.

“I brought his sweater.”

Silence.

She felt him turn slightly—just enough that she knew he was facing her now.

“I packed it without thinking. It was at the bottom of the drawer and I—I don’t know. It still smells like him.”

Harry didn’t speak.

Didn’t rush to fill the gap.

She was grateful for it.

“I was going to wear it tonight,” she said, voice smaller. “Like maybe it would… I don’t know. Trick my body into thinking I’m okay.”

Harry’s voice was low. Raspy.

“Did it?”

“No.”

She swallowed.

“It made me feel like a ghost in my own skin.”

He shifted again.

She could hear the sheets move.

But he still didn’t say anything.

And somehow, that helped more than anything else would have.

Y/N lay there a while longer.

Eyes open.

Not crying. Not spiraling.

Just… breathing.

Feeling the night settle around them. Feeling the air stretch between her bed and his like the softest, sharpest thread.

At one point, she turned again. Lay on her back.

And whispered, “Harry?”

A beat.

Then: “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

It was quiet for a long time.

So long she almost thought he’d fallen asleep.

But then—

His voice, barely there: “I think I will be.”

She stared at the ceiling.

Me too, she wanted to say.

But she wasn’t ready yet.

So instead, she said, “Good night.”

And from across the room, warm and slow and real:

“Good night, Y/N.”

-

It wasn’t sleep that came next.

It was something that wore its shape.

Time passed, but it didn’t move.

The dark thickened. The air shifted. The sounds of the house slowed into hush.

But Y/N stayed wide awake.

Not tossing. Not turning.

Still.

Her body was quiet, but her mind wasn’t. Her thoughts raced in slow, dragging circles—too tired to run, too wound up to rest. Her eyes stayed open long after they stopped registering anything, fixed on the faint shape of the ceiling fan spinning shadows against shadows.

The room had changed.

The moonlight through the window was different now—softer, slightly lower, like it had collapsed inward. The breeze had calmed. The curtain had stilled.

Harry hadn’t made a sound in over an hour. But she knew he wasn’t asleep.

She knew.

It was something in the way his breath stayed shallow. Steady, yes. But deliberate. As if he, too, was trying not to be the first one to move.

Y/N’s muscles had gone numb from stillness.

Every part of her felt suspended.

Her wrists. Her calves. Her lungs.

She lay on her side, facing the wall, the curve of her knees pulled tight, one hand curled gently beneath her pillow. Her skin was too warm. Her t-shirt clung in places it hadn’t earlier. Her hair felt heavy at the back of her neck.

And Harry was less than ten feet away.

Still. Quiet. Present.

It should’ve felt comforting.

It didn’t.

It felt like pressure.

Like a truth too big to name.

Like if she rolled over, everything about the day would come pouring out and she’d never be able to put it back in.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Hard.

Tried to breathe through it.

Counted the seconds between the fan’s clicks.

But it didn’t help.

Because behind her eyelids, she could still feel it—him.

Not just Harry.

Harry.

The way he’d looked at her earlier.

The way he’d listened. Really listened. Without asking for anything back.

The way he’d said “Only when you need me to.”

The way he sat beside her like he didn’t need to touch her to hold her up.

It was too much.

It was too much, and yet—

She wanted more of it anyway.

She flipped onto her back.

Slowly. Quietly.

Held her breath as the mattress shifted.

She stared up at the ceiling like it could answer for her thoughts.

And then—just once—she let herself glance to the right.

To him.

To Harry.

He was lying on his side now, facing her.

His eyes were open.

He didn’t pretend otherwise.

For a long time, neither of them moved.

There was just the space between them.

Dark. Bare. Unbearable.

Her voice stayed locked in her throat.

And his expression didn’t change.

But she felt it.

All of it.

The weight of everything they weren’t saying.

The pull of something neither of them had expected, but had been circling since mile three on the highway.

The knowing.

The quiet, impossible truth of I see you. I see you. I see you.

Y/N blinked once.

Harry did too.

Then he shifted—just slightly—like he might say something.

But he didn’t.

And neither did she.

Because this wasn’t a night for saying anything.

This was a night for surviving the silence.

For letting it shape them. Softly. Slowly.

And hoping it didn’t ruin them in the morning.

-

It was the stillness that woke her.

Not a sound. Not a shift in the bed.

Just that heavy, humming kind of quiet that didn’t feel accidental.

The kind of silence that pressed against her eyelids, warm and slow and thick with waiting.

Y/N blinked into the dark.

Or what was left of it.

There was light now—soft, early, barely-there light spilling through the open window in long, pale strokes across the floorboards. The curtain stirred once, brushed the wall like a sigh, then stilled again.

She stayed where she was.

Her body still curled under the blanket. Her breath still low. Her heart still racing for reasons she couldn’t quite name.

She didn’t know what time it was. But it had that hollow-boned quality—the hour that lives between real rest and being needed. The hour that tastes like forgotten dreams and creaking floorboards and the knowledge that if you speak, the day will begin and nothing will ever go back to how it was the night before.

Y/N turned slowly onto her side.

She didn’t mean to look at him.

She told herself she was checking the window.

The light.

The fan.

But when her eyes found Harry, they stayed there.

He hadn’t moved.

Still lying on his side. Still facing her.

Still awake.

She could tell by the way his chest lifted—too slow for sleep, too steady for dreaming. His hands were folded beneath the pillow. His hair was a mess, curling at the edges and fanned against the case like he’d been fighting gravity in his sleep.

But his eyes were open.

Soft. Heavy-lidded. But open.

Watching her.

She almost looked away.

She should have.

But neither of them flinched.

It felt like something had been peeled back in the dark—something raw and silent and so obvious now, there was no way to pretend it hadn’t always been there.

They didn’t speak.

Not because there was nothing to say.

But because saying anything would mean naming it.

And naming it meant letting it be real.

And real was terrifying.

The fan clicked above them.

A single bird called out from the trees beyond the window.

Harry blinked. Once.

And Y/N, before she could stop herself, whispered, “You’re still awake.”

He nodded.

Barely.

Like even that was too much effort.

Like even that might break the spell.

Harry didn’t speak.

He just looked at her.

Not intensely. Not sharply.

Just… steadily.

Like he’d already decided it was okay to keep looking.

Like he wasn’t going to pretend this wasn’t happening anymore.

And the worst part was—

She didn’t want him to.

She didn’t want him to stop. Didn’t want him to turn away and fold himself back into the safe, quiet, too-neutral version of himself he carried around for everyone else.

She wanted this one.

The one who stayed.

The one who watched.

The one who knew how to sit still beside the burn of someone else’s grief without flinching.

She didn’t know what to do with that.

So she did nothing.

The fan overhead clicked once.

Then twice.

The light creeping through the curtain shifted an inch to the right, washing over the curve of Harry’s cheekbone, lighting just the edge of his profile—his brow, the tip of his nose, the top of his lip.

Y/N’s stomach turned.

Not from nerves.

From recognition.

From the gut-deep awareness that this wasn’t some harmless crush or fleeting moment of situational comfort. This was something she’d remember later. When she shouldn’t. When she’d try not to.

She curled her fingers tighter around the blanket draped across her stomach.

Not out of cold.

But control.

“You’re still awake,” she said quietly.

The words landed softly, but they didn’t dissolve.

They settled.

They stayed.

Harry nodded once, like even that tiny movement carried meaning.

And it did.

Of course it did.

Y/N rolled onto her back.

Carefully. Slowly.

Like the air between them might shatter if she moved too fast.

She didn’t look at him again.

But she felt it.

The weight of his gaze. The heat of it.

The way it rested on her like a question neither of them wanted answered yet.

“Did you sleep at all?” she whispered.

Harry didn’t speak right away.

He rarely did.

“Some,” he said eventually.

She nodded. Not because it mattered.

But because it gave her something to do with her head.

“Me neither.”

No laughter. No soft teasing. No false lightness to smooth out the rawness of it.

Just honesty.

The kind that existed at 5:30 a.m., when the sky hadn’t committed to being blue yet and your chest still ached from dreams you couldn’t remember.

The blanket was too warm.

The air too thin.

The room too quiet.

But somehow, none of it mattered.

Because he was still awake.

And so was she.

And that meant something.

He rolled onto his back too, and their bodies mirrored—lying still, not facing each other now, but not far.

A beat passed.

Then another.

Then: “I kept thinking about the dock.”

She blinked at the ceiling.

“What about it?”

“That first night we got here last year. Everyone jumped in at once. It was freezing.”

A breath of something like a smile passed over her lips.

“Claire screamed like she’d been electrocuted.”

Harry huffed a soft laugh. “And then you dared Ben to stay in for two full minutes.”

Her smile dropped.

The memory stung.

More than it should have.

That ache was back again.

The one that sat behind her ribs like a bruise.

But Harry didn’t leave her there.

“I remember thinking…” he said, voice lower now, “you were the only one who looked like you actually belonged here.”

Y/N’s head turned.

She looked at him.

This time, really looked.

And in the slant of his voice, in the quiet weight of that sentence, she heard it:

I see you. I saw you even then.

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy.

It wasn’t awkward.

It was something else.

Something thicker.

Something slower.

Something that buzzed just below her skin, like heat trapped under the surface.

She swallowed.

She didn’t ask him what he meant.

She knew.

She knew.

And that was worse.

Because knowing meant noticing.

Noticing meant caring.

And caring was a door she hadn’t meant to open.

“I don’t think I ever have,” she said finally.

“Have what?”

“Belonged here.”

Harry didn’t respond right away.

And when he did, it wasn’t with a correction or a protest or a no, that’s not true.

It was this:

“I don’t think any of them notice the difference.”

She frowned.

“But I do,” he added.

Her heart stuttered.

Once. Hard.

And just before she could ask what that meant—what she meant—his voice came again, soft and sure:

“That’s the part that matters.”

The light was climbing now.

Faint pink crept up the walls. The edges of the dresser sharpened. The curtain glowed.

But Y/N didn’t look away.

Not from him.

Not this time.

Harry lay still, one arm bent behind his head, his eyes on hers.

There was no mask now.

Nothing softening the truth of his gaze.

He looked at her like he already knew what she was afraid to feel.

Like he’d felt it too.

And that—

That made it worse.

Because it meant they were standing on the same ledge.

It meant she wasn’t imagining this.

And if she wasn’t imagining it, then…

Then everything had already changed.

She breathed in slowly.

Let it out through her nose.

“Did you mean it?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

His brow furrowed, just slightly. “Mean what?”

“That I’m the only one who didn’t pretend.”

He didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

She nodded once.

Then looked away.

The curtain moved again. Just a little.

Like the morning was reminding her that time still existed, even if she wasn’t ready to move through it yet.

“You should get some sleep,” she said, though she wasn’t sure who she meant it for.

Harry’s voice was quieter now. “You should, too.”

But neither of them did.

They stayed like that.

In the quiet.

In the space between confession and denial.

In the ache that came from being seen too clearly by someone who hadn’t meant to see you at all—and did anyway.

Y/N closed her eyes.

The sun crept higher.

The breeze turned warmer.

And for the first time since arriving, she let herself believe—just barely, just once—that maybe she didn’t have to carry all of this alone.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Taglist: @this-is-tiny-mia @goldensunflowerssss-blog @notsosweetcreature @ohmygoldboots @pradastardust @hsbbyhunny @meganrose139 @reeadyreeady @harrys-flower-vol-6 @sunshinextemptress94 @somebunnybaby @justsimplybands @witch-rry @millsadoresyou @watermelon-medicine @pink-watermelon-cherry @babegoalsreads @namoreno @fairyjuicestyles @pologoonies @mp-269 @musicforastylesrestaurant @finelinereading @sigh-mon-reads @tonystaank

Next Part

[redfacedpalindrome]

fia awards recap:

this was my first time watching the fia awards livestream and i sincerely need to ask: is it always that much of a shitshow?

Top 9 moments (in no particular order, because they're all my nightmare):

checo winning an award for this season. just, the fact that his name even came up after this fuck ass season.

THEY JUST FORGOT AB OSCAR FOR LIKE THREE MINUTES WHEN THEY ANNOUNCED THE CONSTRUCTOR'S CHAMPS???

subpoint to (2) - why tf did they just announce the constructor's while Lando was up there for P2 in the driver's championship? why was that so weird. why wouldn't they just let constructor's have its own big moment???

The F1 2024 montage. guys. that was actually such propaganda. first of all it completely glossed over the abu dhabi gp which is just crazy so much happened. it was simultaneously glazing max and making him seem like a poor victorian orphan mid-season? second half of the montage was just top ten lando pr fails?? why didn't they just hype up the gax drama that was at least real.

any time that they made lando just stand around on stage. can you guys pls prepare stage direction cue cards. pls prep the drivers with minimum one (1) email.

when MBS came on stage and said they were only in Rwanda for the ceremony because of DEI. y'all this sport isn't real-

all of the interviews on the 'blue' carpet at the beginning cutting off at deeply awkward moments

charles clearly had not climbed out of the depression hidey-hole and they needed to stop asking him questions

did. did max passive aggressively tell the entire motorsporting world he wanted checo fired in his speech? or am i reading too far in between the lines cos i feel like he doesn't really do implicit messaging

the only success story from this entire night was lando norris, who maybe hired a new pr person? they kept trying to embarrass him and he was like 'nah, no way bitches'. he was adorable with the karting champions, the right balance of charming and awkward, and he handled all the max feud implications with grace. they could never make me hate you lando.

oh also clips of max and charles using oscar as a go-between!

[lovern-9]

This is the first time I’ve written a fic before and definitely won’t be the last.

Pls tell me if this is good or bad or if u need more thanks for reading!!

Golden Girl

——————————————————————————

Pedro Pascal adjusted his bow tie in the mirror, exhaling as he heard the hum of the audience behind the curtain. Oscar night was always a big deal, but this year? This year was different.

Because this year, his wife, his brilliant, sharp-witted, utterly irreplaceable wife was nominated for Best Actress.

You had been through hell and back since you were a child, fought for every bit of success with a stubbornness he admired (and, if he was honest, found a little intimidating at times). But even after everything life had thrown at you, you still laughed. You still made him laugh so hard, sometimes, that he’d have to clutch his chest like some old man having a heart attack.

And you still had that British charm, the quick wit, the effortless way you could take the piss out of him and somehow make him love you even more for it.

He grinned to himself, then stepped onto the stage, greeted by roaring applause.

"It is my absolute honor to present the award for Best Actress," he announced, the gold envelope cool between his fingers. "These women have delivered performances that broke our hearts, inspired us, and reminded us why we love storytelling."

The screen played clips of each nominee, and when your scene flashed across it, Pedro felt his heart swell. He had seen you in your element a million times, but watching you like this, knowing the world was seeing what he always saw. God he was proud.

Then came the moment.

He slid his thumb under the envelope’s seal, and when he saw the name inside, he let out a breathless chuckle.

It was you.

He looked up, warmth filling his voice. "My love, the spectacular Y/N L/N!”

The room exploded into cheers.

The camera caught your reaction,eyes wide, hand over your mouth whilst it hung open in shock. You turned to your table, then back to Pedro, blinking like you’d misheard him. He gave you a look, one that said, “cmon, love, before I come carry you up here myself.”

Stumbling to your feet, you made your way to the stage. When you reached him, Pedro pulled you in for a tight hug, whispering, "Told you so, mi amor."

You pecked his cheek before taking the golden statue from him.

Turning to the microphone, you let out a breathy laugh, still a bit dazed. "Fucking hell," you muttered, earning laughter from the crowd. "This is mad oh my god this is actually crazy."

Pedro stepped back, hands clasped, watching you with a grin.

"I don’t know where to start," you continued. "This film changed my life, and I have so many people to thank the..th-the cast, the crew, my incredible director. But most of all, I want to thank my husband."

Pedro’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, and the audience let out an affectionate "aww."

You turned toward him, eyes glistening. "Pedro, my love, my pain in the arse",I chuckle. More laughter. "You are my rock, my safe place, my best friend. You make me laugh when I don’t want to, you put up with my mood swings and the roller coaster of emotions I put you through and you remind me every single day that I’m not alone. I love you more than words can say.I love you querido (darling)"

Pedro placed a hand over his heart, dramatically pretending to swoon. You rolled your eyes but bit back a smile.

"Alright, alright," you sighed playfully, "I’ll stop before he starts crying and makes me look bad."

The audience roared with laughter as Pedro wiped an imaginary tear.

Raising your Oscar, you grinned. "Thank you…seriously. This means the world to me.*"

The music swelled as you walked off stage, Pedro right there waiting for you.

——————————————————————————

Backstage

"You did it mi amor!" he murmured against your hair, voice thick with emotion.

You buried your face in his shoulder, gripping his tux. "That actually just happened, didn’t it?"

He pulled back, cupping your face. "Damn right, it did.”,he replies as he brings you closer for a kiss.

You pulled back and studied his face, then smirked. "You gonna cry?"

Pedro scoffed, blinking rapidly. "No."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Shut up."

You laughed, brushing your thumb across his cheek. "I love you, you big softie."

Pedro kissed you. Deep and slow, pouring everything into it. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

"I love you too, Mrs. Oscar Winner."

You groaned. "Oh, don’t start."

But he just grinned, kissing you again because tonight, you where his golden girl.

——————————————————————————

Thank you soo much for taking time out of ur day to read this it’s probably pretty crappy since it’s my first one but if you have any requests I’ll be sure to try and write them❤️❤️❤️

[darkeralmond]

Can you do a william Smith smut when they get home from his draft. Pls I haven't seen any writing pieces for him and he's so cute.

Ps. I love your writing pieces

THANK U SM FOR THE REQUEST ILYSM ❤️❤️❤️

All Night

Will Smith x fem! Reader

synopsis: it’s draft night and you attend the draft with will and his family, but while there will’s drooling over your body. when he gets drafted, you tell him you have a reward for him in your guys’ hotel room

warnings: 18+, smut, swearing, oral (m! recieving)

word count: 1.2k

a/n: HEY GUYS!! i wanna get back to writing smuts and imagines so i saw one of my old requests and thought i would write it. also i am so excited to see macklin and will play tg!! enjoy i love u guys sm ❤️❤️

It was the night Will had been waiting for his entire hockey career. It was NHL draft night, and he was determined to go in the first round. As his long time girlfriend, he really wanted to take you to Nashville with him and his family to cherish the moment with you.

While entering Bridgestone Arena, there were media teams all over the place capturing all the young prospects. Players such as Connor Bedard, Adam Fantilli, and Oliver Moore who were just as glorified by the press as your boyfriend.

Photographers were snapping pictures of Will, ESPN commentators were interviewing him, and all you could do was step back and watch like an outsider.

After escaping the media frenzy by entering Bridgestone, he pulled you close to him and whispered, “You doing good?”

“Yeah, it’s just really crowded,” you answered. Fancy events made you anxious, so being at a nationally televised event with your super popular boyfriend was super overwhelming.

“Well, you look beautiful,” he teased before kissing your temple. His grip around you grew tighter as he stared at your chest which was slightly exposed with your v-neck dress, causing him to lick his lips. He then turned to his parents and said, “Hey, I’m gonna take Y/N the bathrooms so she doesn’t get lost. We’ll meet you guys in there.”

“Sounds good, just be at the table by 5:30,” his mom advised before heading down to their reserved spots. Will moved his hand from your waist to your hand before guiding you away from the crowd of people.

“Will, what are you doing?” you asked as he pushed through the crowd to a more secluded area. He spun to face you before kissing you deeply. You returned the action by moving your hands up to the sides of his neck. He ran his hands down your back and groped your ass.

You gasped before pulling away. “Will! Not here!” You meant for it to come out as stern, but you couldn’t help but giggle.

“Fuck. Why did you wear such a revealing dress?” he whined as he stared at your chest. “You know I can barely control myself around you. This is torture!”

You pecked a kiss on his cheek before saying, “You’ll have all this to yourself when we get back to the hotel. Remember, your parents got us our own room.”

He groaned again. “That’s hours from now!”

“Looks like you’ll just have to wait,” you teased as you winked at him. “Now come on, your mom will kill you if you’re late.”

The draft started shortly after that, and you held onto his hand as you and everyone else anxiously waited for his name to be called. Will ended up getting drafted to the San Jose sharks as the 4th overall pick, and he was over the moon. When they announced his name, the cameras panned onto him as everyone erupted into applause and cheers. Will let go of your hand as he and everyone at the table stood up, clapping and embracing him.

Will finally got to you as he grinned from ear to war and pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in your neck. Your eyes rimmed with tears as the two of you held onto each other. You placed a kiss on his cheek and whispered into his ear, “Looks like I need to award you with a blow job in the hotel room.”

Now he was smiling even harder with his face red as he walked up to the stage to accept his hat and jersey. When he came back to his seat, he leaned into your ear and whispered, “Thank God they couldn’t see how hard I am just now.”

…

The first round of the draft took hours to complete due to the amount of prospects, so when it concluded his parents complained about how exhausted they were. Not you and Will though. You guys would’ve gone straight to sleep when you got to your room, but you both were really horny and ready to celebrate.

When you made it back to the hotel, his dad gave Will a keycard to the room. “Here’s a keycard for you guys to share. Your mom and I are gonna keep this one to check in on you so don’t be getting into trouble. I’ll see you two in the morning,” his dad said before heading down the hall to the hotel room for him and his mom.

“Good night!” Will yelled out to his parents before looking down at me, holding up his key card. “Looks I have you for the night.”

You ushered him by saying, “Hurry up! I’ve been waiting for this all night!” He scanned the card and the door unlocked.

Before you even made it in the room, his hands were all over you. His lips were all over yours, and he was kissing you like your life depended on it. You could barely even breathe as his tongue brushed across your lower lip before he opened his mouth and licked your top lip with fervor.

You broke the kiss so you could breathe. “I need this off you now,” you said as you unbuttoned his jacket and shirt and he shrugged them both off, letting it fall to the floor. “You ready for your celebration?”

He ecstatically nodded his head causing you to grin as you tugged off his pants. His boxers were black, very tight and covered in little white hearts. In your opinion his boxers had every right to be tight, he knew what was coming.

With his boxers gone and his obvious erection, you got down on your knees in front of him and stroked his tip with your tongue.

Will moaned softly causing chills to run down your spine. Your hands traveled up his dick, firmly grasping at the base. You kissed the tip and then slowly lowered your mouth to take half of him in your mouth. Multitasking, your other hand massaged stroked slowly.

He groaned in bliss as his hands held onto your hair. “That feels good, yeah?” you asked after pulling away, continuing to stroke his dick with your hand. He moaned again, louder than before, as confirmation. Your stomach flipped in excitement and you smiled wickedly.

“You look so fucking beautiful, baby,” he praised. You didn’t respond with words, you only let out a soft hum in amusement as you took his dick in your mouth again.

He thrashed his hips forward in order to go deeper down your throat. This caused you to slightly choke as a mix of saliva and his pre-cum escaped your mouth. “God, I wanna be inside you…” he whispered quietly.

You pulled away again and made eye contact with him, still jacking him off. “Oh, sweetheart,” you purred. “This is only the beginning.”

As he grew closer to finishing, your head bobbed up and down fast as your sucking became harder. He kept moaning your name louder and louder like an addiction that no drug could replace.

It only took him a minute to finish before he shot a load in your mouth. When you swallowed it, he groaned. “Wow… wow, that was amazing,” he rasped breathlessly.

“You still have my body to get through, you know?” you replied as you wiped the residue off your face with the back of your hand. “You said you wanted to be inside me, right?”

[starkwlkr]

Hi anon with missing cillian request this side!!!😅😅

I just wanted to say ur work on cillian with nolan!reader was soooo good and was wondering if u could write one where she attends the award shows with him and chris and they include her in their speech

(Maybe nolan reader had given the book to her father🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️)

And if u could include some sweet couple and parents moment that would be AWESOME!!!!!!

what a night | cillian murphy (nolan!reader)

when you heard cillian’s name being called at the 2024 oscars, you felt like a tearing up, but you promised you weren’t going to cry. eh, some promises were meant to be broken.

the audience stood up to applaud for your husband. he turned to you and kissed you. you made sure your lipstick didn’t get on him like it did before. “i’m so proud of you.” you whispered to him as he gave you a hug.

when he released you, he stepped aside and saw his father in law, christopher, ready to give him a hug. you were sure twitter was going to make memes about the hug. it was something you discovered recently about how your father was always casting cillian in his work. you saw many jokes about it that it made you genuinely laugh.

finally, cillian made it to the stage to receive his oscar. in a room full of people, he found you staring at him with eyes full of love and proudness.

“i’m a little overwhelmed. thank you to the academy. um, chris nolan and emma thomas it’s been the wildest most exhilarating most creatively satisfying journey you’ve taken me on over the last twenty years. i owe you more than i can say. thank you so much. and thank you for not firing me after you found out your daughter and i were dating.” he said as the audience laughed.

the camera showed chris and you laughing at his joke.

after thanking the crew and cast, he looked at you. “thank you for being my partner in life, the mother of our beautiful children, my best friend, you are my person. i love you.” your father watched as you teared up.

after cillian finished his speech, you were tapped on your shoulder by your father, who offered you a tissue. “thanks, dad.” you chuckled as you took it.

next it was time for best director, a category you were nervous for your father.

“and the oscar goes to . . . christopher nolan, oppenheimer.” steven speilberg announced. your father had done it, finally. he was an oscar winner. after eight nominations, he finally got his golden statue.

after he hugged and kissed emma, he walked to your direction. cillian was still backstage, but he was watching close by. your father hugged you for a few seconds then kissed your cheek.

“you did it!” you cheered.

“it’s yours too, love.”

when he got to the stage, he was greeted by steven and got handed his oscar. it was truly a surreal moment. he first thanked the studios and several people who helped make the film.

“to my daughter, you are the reason for this.” he held up the statue. “you have a brilliant mind and a kind soul and i’m extremely proud to be your father. you gave me the book that this film is based on and you helped create a masterpiece. thank you forever. i share this with you.” his words made you cry even more.

you blew a kiss to your father then wiped away a tear. it was a dream come true.

shortly after, cillian got back to his seat, golden statue in hand. “did i do okay?”

“you did it perfectly, my love.”

when it was time for best picture to be announced, you were a bit confused. you weren’t sure if al pacino was didn’t care or if he was joking, but your father’s film had won best picture. it was a weird way to announce it, but your father and the oppenheimer team walked to the stage to receive the award.

it was definitely a perfect way to end the night.

[lucy90712]

CAN U DO A JELOUS KENAN

I smoothed down my dress in the mirror and double check to make sure there was no lipstick on my teeth. I've already checked about a million times but I have to look perfect, tonight I'm going to an award ceremony with Kenan for the first time which is a big deal. We've been together for two years now but we prefer to not be always be seen together in public so our relationship stays pretty private but tonight that changes. Kenan invited me as soon as he found out he was nominated for the golden boy web award but told me I didn't have to go if I didn't want to but I agreed straight away. We may like to have privacy in our relationship but that doesn't mean I don't want to go and support him no matter how much I know I'll hate it and how much anxiety it causes me I will be there. 

"You look beautiful love" Kenan said walking in from the bathroom where he was doing his hair 

"Thank you you look very handsome too" I said 

"No one will be looking at me when you look so amazing in that dress" Kenan half joked 

"You're the one who's nominated I'd hope someone looked at you" I said 

"Well I'll definitely be looking at only you" he flirted 

"Stop being such a flirt" I said 

"No can do not when my girlfriend always looks so hot" he smiled 

All I could do was shake my head but he still wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed behind my ear. He kept kissing me all over my face anywhere but my lips as I wouldn't let him ruin my lipstick that I spent so long perfecting. Eventually we had to stop as our car was downstairs ready to take us to the venue. Kenan held my hand as we walked out the hotel to we were staying in despite the ceremony being in Turin to the car. The driver went to open the door for us but Kenan stopped him and opened the door for me instead. The whole drive he kept me distracted as I think he could tell that the nerves were really starting to kick in even if I tried not to show it. As soon as we arrived Kenan helped me out of the car and stood in front of me so I could sort my dress out before we were in front of people and cameras.

We walked down the red carpet together and straight away there was cameras flashing blinding me but I had Kenan guiding me to stop me walking into someone or something. We were made to stop and pose properly for pictures which really made me feel uncomfortable as I've never been great in front of a camera but luckily I'm not really the one they are looking at which makes it a little better. Soon they wanted interviews from Kenan which I took as my chance to get out of the spotlight and inside the venue where hopefully there will be less eyes on me. 

Just as I got settled in my seat out of the corner of my eye I saw someone walking towards me but I knew it wasn't Kenan. I was right it was some random guy who I didn't know and honestly don't care to know but I think I'm going to have to talk to anyway. 

"Hi I'm Tom" the guy introduced himself 

"Hey I'm y/n" I replied trying to be polite 

"It's a lovely venue right" he said making small talk 

"Yeah lovely" I said awkwardly 

"I'll leave you be but I'll catch you later" he said 

Once the guy has left Kenan came and sat next to me but he said nothing so he must not have seen me have the most awkward interaction of my life. The ceremony started not long after and I forgot about Tom as I watched all the awards be presented. Then it got to the award that Kenan was nominated for and instinctively I grabbed hold of his hand to calm his nerves or mine I'm not really sure which. Then they announced Kenan's name as the winner and to say I was shocked was an understatement. I wanted Kenan to win and I believed in him don't get me wrong but there was so many amazing players nominated I wasn't sure that Kenan would win. Watching him walk up there to accept the award made me so proud to be his girlfriend and have been here to watch him as he's grown as a player. There are so many amazing young players around at the moment that sometimes I feel like Kenan doesn't get enough recognition but now hopefully he'll get the recognition he deserves. 

His little speech made me a little emotional but I held it together until he came back to his seat and I had to give him a quick kiss to stop myself from letting a few tears escape my eyes. As the rest of the ceremony went on Kenan showed me his award which was so cool it's going to look great on his shelf with the other trophies he's won. I don't think I paid much attention to the rest of the ceremony as I was just thinking about how proud I am of Kenan. 

After the ceremony there was an after party organised for everyone who attended which originally we hadn't planned to go to but I told Kenan we had to go seeing as he won it would be rude not to. What I didn't anticipate was that everyone would want to speak to Kenan so he was very quickly taken away from me as he was moved around groups of people wanting to congratulate him. It didn't really bother me I found somewhere to sit on my own and no one really noticed me which was fine by me as I prefer to not talk to loads of new people all at once. At some point I got a drink given to me but I didn't touch it as I have classes in the morning so I don't want to be hungover at all. Just when I thought I could relax until Kenan was released back to me the guy from earlier decided to sit next to me. He had clearly been drinking so I moved away from him slightly feeling a bit uncomfortable by his presence. 

"Hey pretty girl I'm glad to see you're still here" he said leaning towards me again 

"Aren't you going to talk to me?" He asked when I didn't respond 

"I just want to get to know you tell me about yourself" he added 

"There's not much to say" I replied wanting to end the conversation 

"I can't believe a beautiful girl like you at an event like this doesn't have much going on in her life" he said 

"Well it's true I'm just a student I'm here with my boyfriend" I said 

"I don't see a boyfriend" he teased 

"Well he's here he's just talking to some people" I said 

"Leaving me free to talk to you" he said 

He continued to try and flirt with me while I didn't respond which only seemed to make things worse as his arm then slid round my waist so he could try and get my attention. 

Kenan's POV

Going to this after party was an awful idea from the second we entered the door I've had people pull me into different conversations meaning I've left y/n on her own the whole time. I've tried to escape a few times but every time someone else wants to talk to me so instead I've just been checking on y/n from a distance. For most of the night she's been sat at a table by herself with a drink she hasn't touched until some guy went and sat next to her. From what I could tell she didn't really want to talk to him so she moved away but then my view was blocked so I just had to trust that she'd be able to stand up for herself. 

After what felt like forever the people blocking my view got out the way allowing me to see that the guy was still sat next to y/n. She looked just as disinterested as before but she was talking to him so I just made sure to keep watching out for her. Then he leaned in closer which immediately made me mad but I let it slide until his hand went round her waist. That was too much for me no one gets to put their hand on my girlfriend especially not under my watch. There's nothing I hate more than watching people flirt with my girlfriend which happens far more than it should but I never like to show how much it annoys me as I don't want y/n to think I'm jealous as I don't trust her. I can keep my mouth shut watching a waiter or classmate flirt with y/n but having another guy hold her waist is beyond where I draw the line I don't care if I look jealous or crazy I can't just watch this happen. I excused myself from the conversation I was involved in and made a beeline straight for y/n. 

I tried to look calm as I slid in next to her and took the guys hand off her waist so I could replace it with mine. Y/n looked at me with pure relief in her eyes which told me I'd made the right decision to come over. The guy looked at me like he was about to say something until he seemed to realise who I was and he shut his mouth. He still looked mad that I'd taken the girl he was flirting with but I don't care one bit he can hate me if I want I'm not letting him try and steal my girlfriend. 

"Dude don't try and steal her I was here first" the guy slurred clearly drunk 

"I think you should leave my girlfriend alone" I said as calmly as I could manage 

"She's not your girlfriend she didn't mention you" he said 

"I told you I had a boyfriend" y/n said 

"She told you she had a boyfriend and you still tried to get with her dude just leave us alone or I'll ask security to kick you out" I said getting mad 

The guy rolled his eyes but he got up and walked away anyway. He looked back a few times so I took the liberty of kissing y/n while he was watching and right in front of everyone else so that no one else tries anything. I thought she'd be a bit embarrassed kissing me in public as she's not one for pda but she happily kissed me back. When we pulled away she had a smile on her face but I could see in her eyes that she was thinking about something. 

“What’s on your mind?” I asked 

“Its just I liked seeing you jealous I appreciate that you don’t get jealous over little things but it’s nice watching you get all protective over me” she admitted suddenly getting a bit shy 

“I will always be protective of you I’m never going to let another guy touch you like that but I wasn’t jealous” I said 

“You were jealous I can tell by the look in your eyes it’s the same look you have when waiters flirt with me but it’s ok I’ll always be yours you’ve got nothing to worry about” she said 

“Good because I’m never letting you go” I said 

We’d both had enough of the after party by this point so we just left without saying goodbye to anyone and went back to our hotel so I can show her how much I love her and why I’m better than any other guy. 

[mistydeyes]

Imagine dad!ghost at his daughter's jiu-jitsu/martial arts tournament where she is absolutely demolishing all her opponents.

Ghost and s/o would most definitely be those over-proud parents like Cam and Mitchell from modern family 😭💀

Was wondering if you could write a fic for this??

Y E S thank you so so much for requesting this! first off i love modern family and second who doesn't LOVE a cute lil wholesome moment with the riley family!

a child's eye of the tiger

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summary: It's clear your daughter takes after her father when she absolutely demolishes the competition in her youth jiu jitsu match.

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader (established relationship w daughter)

warnings: swearing, violence involved in a jiu jitsu match?

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"What sport is this again?" Simon asked you with a shit-eating grin painted on his face. You slapped his thigh lightly as you adjusted your gaze to find your daughter waiting patiently on the mat. "Jiu-jitsu, Simon," you whispered, "been doing this since reception." You didn't see his reaction but you knew he had a proud fatherlike smile. Despite always asking you these inconsequential questions, he secretly was thoroughly involved in his daughter's life. You tapped your fingers anxiously as you watched the different age groups compete across the dark blue mats. Your daughter sat alone, watching their every move, and stretching her little legs out. "She's definitely your little girl," you whispered to Simon as he put a comforting arm around you.

"Next we have Isla Riley," the announcer called and yours and Simon's cheers drowned out the announcement of her competitor. "Go Isles!" you shouted, ignoring the glares from the surrounding parents. Despite only being six, she sarcastically shook her head before taking her stance. She adjusted her gray and black striped belt as she looked angrily at the other girl in front of her. As soon as the announcer commenced the match, your daughter ran towards the girl, grappling for her legs. You could feel your hands tighten around Simon's as you watched her overpower her and pin the girl to the mat. "She's actually pretty good," Simon beamed as the match continued. Your daughter was then put on her back by the much taller girl and you could feel yourself reacting to their action. "Oh fuck," you said, a little louder than acceptable, and you looked away from the turned heads. Just when you thought your daughter was going to lose the match, your daughter wrapped her legs around the girl's neck and threw her off of her.

"That's my girl," Simon whispered and you could see him smile widely, a rare sight in the Riley household. You were counting the various points your daughter was continuously awarded and it was clear she was in the advantage after her last move. The round continued as your daughter scored for her knee-on-belly, mounting, and passing the guard moves. You could feel yourself clapping when she accomplished the highest-scoring move, the rear mount, and pinned the girl in between her legs and arms. Her heels wrapped around her torso and the girl struggled in her grasp. "I helped her practice that one," you smiled to Simon and you could hear him laugh to himself. As soon as the match started, the 5 minutes were up and the announcer named your daughter the winner with a score of 36. "Let's go Isles!" you shouted and Simon joined with a loud clap that reverberated across the gym walls.

Once she shook her opponent's hand, she ran over to you with her hair in knots and breathing heavily. Simon lifted her up into his arms and placed a soft kiss on her temple. "Happy to be home to see you, baby," he whispered to her as he smoothed out her wild hair. "Did you see I did a take the back?" she excitedly cooed, "I could hear you cheering for me, Mum." You hugged your little family in a warm hug as you celebrated her recent accomplishments. "Want to get out of here?" Simon asked and Isla giddily nodded in response. As you walked out of the gym after a few words with her coach, she held her dad's hand proudly and listed off various sweet shops she wanted to visit. You stood behind them and in a secretive moment, you took a picture of them hand-in-hand. "Glad to have you home, Simon," you whispered before your daughter turned to you and beckoned for you to hurry up. "We're not all athletes here," you joked as you sprinted to walk with your loving daughter and husband.

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sidenote: this is what i pictured w simon and the reader while writing this

[leodette]

Hello! Would it be possible to get some Max + 49? Thank you very much!

no. 49 - holding onto the other’s shoulders for support

Please, I’ve Been On My Knees | MV33

fandom: Formula 1

pairing: Max Verstappen x OC (not named)

names/faceclaims: -

summary: she needs small helpful hand before leaving for FIA Award Ceremony

warning: -

requested: yes / no

**********

“Baby, did you see my phone?” Max yelled from the bedroom, looking around for the familiar case with a cat face on it.

“It’s in my clutch already, Maxie. So you wouldn’t loose it,” his girlfriend answered, walking out of the bathroom, applying the final layer of lip oil.

They were in Baku, at the annual FIA Award Ceremony. Basically said - if you were a rookie, or top 3 in the championship, you had to be there. Max attended the ceremony two times already, claiming his two world championship trophies, but he was always accompanied by a family member. Either his mom, or his grandma, or his sister. This year it was the first time he would have his girlfriend with him. They met at the last year’s ceremony, her being the daughter of one of the patrons. Flashforward, and this year she was by his side, her father sending her in his stead.

She was hiding her dress from him, murmuring that it was a surprise and he didn’t need to match since he only needed a black tuxedo and a black bow tie. But despite that, Max knew that his girl would look awesome, and that was confirmed when she entered the room, closing the pocket mirror and looking at him. Max was like he saw a ghost - mouth open, not able to think properly. Because he didn’t expect a long silver gown that covered her body like a waterfall, with a deep cutout at the back that almost showed the top part of her gorgeous bum.

“Did the dress come with a sleeping mask as well?” he asked finally, coming to his senses. She stopped in her tracks, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Why a sleeping mask?”

Max smirked. “Hope you don’t expect me to allow anyone else to ogle you,” he put his hands on her waist, pressing a kiss on her neck.

“Oh stop it you muppet,” she giggled, pushing him away.

“Note to self - don’t allow her to spend so much time with Norris, his vocabulary rubs on her,” Max murmured under his breath while picking his suit jacket, throwing it over his shoulders and taking her bag.

“Shall we go?” he offered her his arm, but she she smirked.

“You want me to go barefoot? Seriously?” she motioned for a pair of silver heels on the other side of bed, making a step in their direction.

“Don’t,” Max stopped her, picking the shoes and lowering himself on one knee in front of her, gently grabbing one of her soft calves.

“May I?” he looked up at her. She had her lip between her teeth, blushing slightly.

“Mhmmm,” she hummed and grabbed his shoulders for stability when he lifted her leg and put the shoe on her foot, tying the satin ribbon around her shin.

“Second one, please baby,” Max motioned for the other leg, and she lifted it on his command, allowing him the same treatment as the first time. He tied the bow, not too tight but not too loose, and pressed a kiss on the inner side of her knee.

Her breath hitched.

“Behave,” she whispered breathily, and Max smirked, knowing well what affect he had on her.

And he wanted to continue when his phone in her bag pinged, announcing the arrival of their car. It broke them out of the heated bubble, the pair exchanging smiles before finally picking all their necessities and walking out of the room, her allowing Max to lock the door.

[lilmisshellfireswritingblog]

Make the Friendship Bracelets

Pairings: Rockstar!EddieMunson x Reader

Based off a Tweet regarding the tattoos and friendship bracelets Kieran Culkin was wearing at the Golden Globes saying it was Eddie as a girl dad at the Grammy's. I knew I had to write it.

A/N: This is probably the most healing thing I have ever written as someone with daddy issues my gods. I hope you like it too.

Warnings: Pure fluff. Tooth rotting sweetness. Dad!Eddie.

Separator banner credit to: sweetmelodygraphics.

It was a cool, crisp February night in 1990 and the soft hum of the television echoed through the living room where you sat with your four-year-old daughter, Melody, curled up in your lap. The Grammy Awards were in full swing, filling the screen with glitz and glamour as the biggest names in the music industry gathered to celebrate their successes.

For you and Melody, however, the awards weren’t just about watching the famous faces or listening to the grand speeches from musicians. Tonight was about Eddie — your husband, her father. Corroded Coffin was nominated for Best New Artist and you couldn’t be prouder. This moment had been a long time coming. You’d watched Eddie pour his heart and soul into the band for years, sacrificing so much just to get to this point and now, he was at the Grammy Awards, receiving the recognition he always deserved with his first ever nomination.

You were sure there would be more to follow in the years to come. 

“Mommy, is Daddy gonna win?” Melody asked, her voice full of innocent excitement. She didn’t really understand the significance of the awards or the industry, but she knew one thing: Daddy was her hero.

You smiled, brushing her messy curls she definitely inherited from Eddie from her face. “I hope so, sweetie,” you said, giving her a soft squeeze.

Melody beamed up at you, her bright eyes wide with trust. “He’s the best, right?”

You chuckled and nodded. “Yes, he is, Mel Bel.”

The moment was almost surreal. The camera cut to the stage and you saw Eddie for the first time tonight after he left the house. His wild hair, his signature leather jacket, and that mischievous grin that never quite left his face… He was so Eddie, and yet, tonight, even more so if it were even possible

He was about to win a Grammy. You could feel it.

“And the Grammy for Best New Artist goes to... Corroded Coffin!” The announcer’s voice rang out, and Melody squealed in delight, her tiny body bouncing on your lap.

“Daddy! Daddy!” she cried, her hands reaching for the screen as if she could touch him through the TV. Her face lit up with the kind of joy only a child could feel, pure and untainted by the weight of the world.

You laughed softly, hugging her close as Eddie stood from his seat, grinning from ear to ear. His bandmates cheered around him, and you could see the excitement in their eyes as they made their way to the stage. Eddie was already thanking the band and the fans and making his speech, but it was his last words that made your heart skip a beat.

“....Especially to my daughter, Melody,” Eddie said, his voice carrying through the microphone. His eyes glanced directly into the camera, and for a brief moment, it was like the whole world melted away. “I love you, kid. This is for you.”

You felt the warmth of pride fill your chest as you looked down at Melody. Her eyes were as wide as saucers, and she was absolutely glowing with joy. “Mom! He said my name! He said my name!” she squealed, her little hands clapping together in excitement.

You nodded, your heart swelling. “He sure did, sweetie. He’s so proud of you.”

But then something else caught your eye — something that made your heart stop and your breath catch in your throat. As Eddie held the Grammy, his arm extended, gesturing toward the audience, his sleeves slid up. That’s when you saw it.

His arms were covered — not in the usual tattoos you knew he had, but in bright, colorful, exaggerated fake tattoos. Dragons, flames, flowers, and skulls in every neon and pastel hue. The tattoos were so vividly out of place that you couldn’t help but smile. 

But also on his wrist were the friendship bracelets Melody had made over the past week — the same ones she had spent hours weaving together with tiny beads before handing it over to you to tie the string into a knot. 

Melody had made him a set for the Grammys and Eddie had worn them proudly, as though they were the most important thing in the world.

One bracelet had the word DAD spelled out in tiny, colorful beads. Another had stars and hearts, a masterpiece of Melody’s four-year-old imagination. Yet another with Corroded Coffin misspelled as Coroded Cofin. The mismatched colors, the mismatched beads — they were perfect. It was like a small piece of Melody’s world, her love, her joy, wrapped around Eddie’s wrist for all the world to see.

Melody gasped, her hands covering her mouth. “Mom, look! Daddy’s wearing them!” she cried, her voice filled with awe and pride. “He’s wearing my bracelets! The ones I made for him!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “Yes, sweetie, he’s wearing them,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “He loves them. He wouldn’t leave without them. I told you!”

Eddie didn’t seem to notice the camera zooming in on his bracelets or the fake tattoos that were so obviously out of place. He was too busy soaking in the moment and the excitement of the win. His attention was entirely on the band and the fans, on the Grammy Award in his hand, and on the world that had just opened its arms to him.

For you, the moment wasn’t just about the Grammy. It wasn’t about the fake tattoos or the glamour. It was about the fact that Eddie, in the middle of this massive achievement, had made room for Melody — her love, her creativity, her heart — to be part of it. It was as though, even in the middle of a world so far removed from the one you and Melody lived in, Eddie had made sure to carry a piece of home with him.

Melody was still jumping up and down on the couch, her eyes glued to the screen. “I’m gonna make him more!” she said, her voice full of determination. “Next time, I’m making him a whole sleeve of tattoos! Maybe even one on his head!”

You chuckled, wiping your eyes. “I think he’d love that, sweetie.”

As Eddie wrapped up his speech, his voice filled with gratitude, you couldn’t help but marvel at the way everything had come together. Eddie was a rock star, but to Melody, he was simply dad — the man who wore her creations with pride, who accepted her love in whatever form it came. Whether it was in the shape of a handmade bracelet or a silly fake tattoo, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that it was from her. 

And that was everything.

When the broadcast cut to commercial, Melody looked up at you with sparkling eyes. “Do you think Daddy knows I love him so much?” she asked, her voice suddenly quiet, almost serious.

You smiled softly, kissing the top of her head. “Oh, sweetie. He knows. I think he feels it every day. I know he does.”

You held Melody a little tighter, your heart full as you watched the rest of the show with your daughter in your arms. Tonight wasn’t just about Eddie winning a Grammy. It was about the quiet, beautiful moments that made up your family — the love that could never be measured by awards or accolades. It was about the joy you shared with each other and the way Eddie wore that love for the world to see, no matter how unpolished, no matter how messy.

EDDIE’S POV

Eddie Munson’s hands were shaking as he stepped up to the stage, his knees wobbling just a little. It wasn’t because he wasn’t used to being on stage. Hell, he had performed in front of crowds thousands of times with no issue. It was just that this moment felt different. This was the Grammys. The one award ceremony that, for so long, seemed like an impossibly far-off dream and here he was, walking up to accept the award for Best New Artist like it was no big deal.

To Eddie Munson, it was a big deal. This was his band and he had proved everyone wrong. 

He was trying to keep his cool but he couldn’t stop the wild rush of adrenaline in his veins. He tried to hold the golden statue steady after the announcer handed it to him, but his fingers kept twitching, like it was going to slip right out of his hand. His bandmates were already clapping behind him, grinning, cheering him on to make his speech. However, Eddie couldn’t focus on them right now. He had to think about what he was going to say as the frontman of Corroded Coffin. 

“Uh, thank you so much,” he mumbled into the microphone, his voice hoarse. “I don’t know what to say. This is… Jesus H. Christ…. This is crazy. Wow.”

The crowd laughed. He half-smiled at them, but his mind wasn’t really here. He was already thinking about the one person he needed to thank the most.

He looked out across the sea of people and felt the weight of their eyes on him. Everyone who had ever doubted him, everyone who had laughed when he said he’d make it, everyone who thought Corroded Coffin was just a phase.

But then he thought of her.

Of Melody.

The tiny girl back at home, probably jumping up and down in front of the TV with her mom. Probably waving her arms, shouting for Daddy like she always did whenever he was on television. Eddie could picture her now — her bright eyes filled with excitement, her little voice calling out to him. He could almost hear it. “Daddy! Daddy! Look! You won!”

He wasn’t just up here for himself. He was up here for her.

“First, I’ve gotta thank my bandmates,” Eddie said, his eyes scanning the faces behind him. “Couldn’t do this without them. We’ve been through hell and back together and this is just as much theirs as it is mine. And of course…the fans… We wouldn’t be here without you guys.”

They cheered, slapping him on the back and Eddie felt that familiar warmth spread through his chest. This was a team effort and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Then, it was time for the moment he had been waiting for. The moment that, no matter how insane this night was, was what truly mattered to him.

“I gotta thank my family, especially to my daughter, Melody,” Eddie said, his voice carrying through the microphone. His eyes glanced directly into the camera and for a brief moment, it was like the whole world melted away. “I love you, kid. This is for you.”

The words left his mouth before he could even think about them. Melody. His little girl, the reason he woke up every morning and pushed himself harder than he ever thought he could. He thought about her sitting on the couch at home, probably with you, smiling so big her cheeks must hurt. He thought about her little hands, the ones that had made him those silly fake tattoos, the ones that now decorated his arms. He had nearly forgotten about them, but now, looking down at his forearms, his heart swelled with pride.

The tattoos were ridiculous. There was no getting around it. Flames, dragons, flowers, skulls, all in bright neon and pastel colors. They looked like something out of a 1980s cartoon — over the top and completely out of place on a red carpet. But he didn’t care. Why should he?

What mattered was that those tattoos, every single one of them, had been made by Melody. She had begged him to let her put them on him. She practically climbed up his legs while he was getting ready. 

And he let her put every single tattoo on him. Every single one. He had to. Because, to him, they weren’t just tattoos. They were a piece of her. A piece of his heart.

He then caught a glimpse of the “DAD” bracelet that was wrapped around his wrist. It had been clumsily woven by Melody, each bead painstakingly placed by her small fingers, a little lopsided and uneven. But it didn’t matter. It was perfect.

“Melody,” he whispered into the mic again, his eyes glazing over with tears for a moment. “I love you, kid.”

He didn’t know if the crowd heard it or if they even cared, but it didn’t matter. As far as Eddie was concerned, Melody was the one who had truly given him everything. She was the reason he fought for this life, for this crazy, unpredictable journey. She was the reason he was standing here at the Grammys, looking out at the world like he didn’t quite belong but didn’t care either.

This was his moment, but it was equally hers too.

And if the world didn’t understand why he was wearing fake tattoos that had no business being on a rockstar’s arms, or if they thought it was silly or unprofessional, he didn’t care.

Because he wasn’t doing this for them.

He was doing it for her. (And it was metal as fuck.)

Yeah, I’m a mess, Eddie thought with a grin, glancing at the camera that had zoomed in on his tattoos and bracelets. But this is my mess. And damn, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The crowd’s applause grew louder and Eddie snapped back to reality. His heart was racing, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He raised the Grammy higher, the light reflecting off it like some kind of symbol of everything he had fought for.

He couldn’t wait to get home. To see her face. To hold her close. To thank her for making him wear those damn bracelets and for making him wear those ridiculous tattoos. He wanted to hug her tight, tell her how much he loved her and how much she meant to him. 

For now, however, he had this moment. He had the Grammy and he had Melody’s love wrapped around his wrist as a physical representation of her love for him.

“Thanks, kid,” Eddie whispered under his breath, walking off the stage with his bandmates. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Eddie Munson stepped through the front door, a quiet sigh escaping his lips as the cool night air from outside hit him. The house was still, a soft quietness settling over everything like a blanket. The weight of the Grammy was still heavy in his hand but it felt like it belonged there now. Like it was a part of him.

He kicked off his boots at the door, careful not to make too much noise. He hadn’t gotten home too late, but there was something about the stillness of the house that made him feel like he was walking on eggshells. The last thing he wanted to do was disturb anyone’s sleep. 

He glanced around the living room, his eyes immediately locking onto the stack of pillows on the couch where you must’ve been earlier. You had probably been watching the broadcast, cheering him on, sharing the excitement with Melody. A part of him wanted to burst in there, to see you both and tell you about the night, to hold you and laugh about the ridiculous tattoos and the fake dragons on his arms.

But another part of him, the quieter part, wanted to let the moment sink in, just for a second.

He walked toward the hallway, gently pushing open the door to Melody’s room. The dim light from the hallway spilled across her tiny bed, casting a soft glow on the scene before him.

There she was, asleep — his little girl, wrapped up in her blankets, her small body curled up in that familiar way she always slept. Her face was peaceful, her breath soft and steady. She was so tiny. So innocent.

Eddie’s heart swelled as he took in the sight. He leaned against the doorframe for a moment, just watching her sleep. He couldn’t help it. The weight of the Grammy in his hand felt like nothing compared to this moment. This was the real prize. The thing he had fought for; the thing that made everything worth it.

His mind flashed back to the stage, the moment he had held that golden trophy up to the crowd, and then looked down at his arms, back down at the fake tattoos, at the bracelet that spelled DAD. He’d been proud to wear them. Proud to wear them for her. Proud to show the world that no matter how big he got, no matter what happened with the band, Melody would always be the one who made him feel like he had won everything.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he thought about the absurdity of it all. Fake tattoos. Friendship bracelets. He hadn’t even noticed until he’d been on stage just how ridiculous they were. To him, they were the most important thing in the world.

He stepped closer to her bed, kneeling down beside it, still clutching the Grammy in one hand. He leaned in slightly, brushing a stray curl from her forehead.

"Hey, kiddo," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "We did it. We won.”

He reached out, gently taking her tiny hand in his and squeezing it softly. She didn’t stir, just kept breathing evenly in her sleep, but Eddie smiled at the feel of her hand in his.

There was a moment when the weight of the night seemed to fall away, and for the first time in hours, Eddie felt calm. No stage lights, no roaring crowd, no flashing cameras. Just him and his daughter.

He reached for the Grammy, hesitating for only a second, before placing it gently on the little dresser next to her bed. The glimmer of gold caught the light, but it didn’t matter. The real treasure was lying right here, in this room. It was the way her hand fit so perfectly in his. The way she had made him those silly bracelets that he’d worn like a badge of honor.

"I’ve got everything I need right here. The Grammy is just extra," Eddie muttered quietly to himself, glancing down at the trophy again before turning back to Melody.

He sat on the edge of her bed, just for a moment, his heart full of love. He had made it. Not just to the Grammys, not just as a rock star, but to this — to this family. To her.

And as he sat there, his fingers lightly brushing the top of her head, he whispered again, just loud enough for her to hear in her sleep: "I love you so much, Melody. You’re my everything. This Grammy is for you. Always."

With that, Eddie stood, giving her one last lingering look before slipping out of the room as quietly as he had entered. He made his way to the kitchen, the house still as a tomb, and found a note on the counter from you, probably written earlier in the night while he’d been at the awards show.

It was simple, but it hit him like a wave: “I’m so proud of you, Eddie. We both are. See you when you get home. We love you so much.”

His lips curved into a smile as he ran his fingers over the note, the words sinking deep into his chest. 

Eddie could feel the weight of the Grammy now even while it wasn’t in his hand. Not in the sense of its physical heaviness, but in the way it was almost like a symbol — of everything he had fought for. Of everything he had gained. Not fame, not money, not recognition. But the one thing that mattered more than anything else: his family. 

His world.

That was the only victory that ever mattered.

For once, Eddie Munson felt like he had everything.

[marcelloshdz]

name dropping

summary: after you've been mentioned in a number of snl sketches, you finally come on to host and let marcello know your feelings about them. requested by anonymous. marcello x actress!reader

*c/n = “cast member name”

“y/n have you seen this?” a friend of yours asked, walking into your living room, and handing your their phone, a tiktok video on the screen.

“no? what is this?” you asked. 

“just watch it.” they said. 

you pressed play on the video, which was of a bit from the most recent episode of saturday night live, from the weekend update segment, and they were doing a bit about the upcoming award’s season.

“here to comment is the guy who tells you what the movies are, mario lopez.” colin jost announced. marcello hernández was then wheeled out onstage, dressed in a suit and tie for his portrayal of the famous tv host. he went into his jokes about the movies that came out this year, who he hoped received nominations, and who he was excited to see on red carpet.

“personally, i’m a huge fan of y/n l/n, and i hope she wins everything.” he said before smiling wide at the camera.

your jaw dropped at the mention of your name on the show. “oh my god!” you screamed as the video continued. “this is crazy!”

“you’ve finally made it big enough to being mentioned on snl!”

“a dream come true.” you laughed. you watched the rest of the video, on the brink of tears as you laughed at the rest of the jokes. 

as the rest of the season went on, and you continued to be a name in movie news during award’s season buzz, you were continuously mentioned on snl. as more of the sketches were brought to your attention, you noticed that it was quite frequently marcello who was name dropping you. you didn’t really think much of it at first, just assuming that he was given stuff written by other people for the characters he was playing, but after a few more instances, it almost felt as though it was on purpose.

you’d just been announced as the host for their episode of prior to oscar sunday. you were excited to host, but you were also quite nervous. you’d done a few comedic roles, but the show being live was something that you were genuinely scared of. your first day in the studio was fun as the writers were pitching you their sketch ideas. you’d moved some of your things into your dressing room for the week. as you were walking out, you almost bumped into marcello, head down as he was reading something on his phone.

“shit, sorry.” he said awkwardly. “oh, hey y/n!” he said once he realized it was you.

“hi, marcello. it was nice to finally get to meet and work you. i’ve been seeing a lot of your sketches over these past few weeks, and i’ve enjoyed them a lot.” you said to him.

“thank you. that means a lot.” he said shyly. “i was nervous when you were announced as host that you were gonna be upset with the jokes that have been about you.” he admitted to you.

“no way. i thought they were all hilarious. admittedly, mainly because you were delivering the jokes.” you said with a smile. “i think you’re really funny and you’ve quickly become a favorite cast member of mine in the time you’ve been on the show.” you added, a faint blush rising to marcello’s cheeks.

“thank you. that means a lot, especially coming from someone as amazing as you.” he smiled. 

the rest of the week flew by, and before you knew it, it was saturday night. throughout the week, you and marcello grew quite close, hitting it off well and becoming fast friends. he was shy around you at first, but as the week went on, he became very talkative and friendly with you, bordering on flirtatious.

you were sitting your host dressing room taking a break from rehearsals when one of the cast members came in to talk to you.

“hey, what’s up?” you asked as they sat down.

“what’s going on with you and marcello?” they asked.

“nothing? why? did he say something?”

“not directly, but i can tell something’s up. in the three seasons he’s been here, he’s never been as giddy around a host like he’s been with you.” they said to you.

“oh. well, nothing’s going on between us. i mean, he’s been very friendly towards me, but it hasn’t been anything more than that.” you said, shaking your head.

“for what it’s worth, and i’m not trying to imply anything, but if anything does happen, he’s a great guy. and you two would be really good together.” they added before walking out of your dressing room. 

throughout the rest of the night, and leading into the show, marcello was acting even more flirty and friendly towards you. taking into account what you now knew about him, you began wondering if he had other intentions.

the show ended up being amazing, and you had a blast being there. after good nights, you went back to your dressing room to begin packing up your things to head out.

“you coming to the after party?” you heard a voice ask. you looked up to see marcello popping his head in the door.

“uh, no sorry.” you sighed. “i’ve got a busy day tomorrow, and gotta head back home pretty quickly.”

“oh, that’s too bad. i was hoping we could hang out some more, without the stress of having to put together a show.” he said stepping into the room. “can i at least walk you out?” he asked, and you nodded. he slung one of your bags over his shoulder and the two of you walked down the hall to the elevator to make your way downstairs and outside. as you walked downstairs, you and marcello quickly got to chatting, sharing your favorite parts of the week. 

marcello stood with you on the sidewalk, keeping you company while you waited for your uber. 

“hey, can i talk to you about something?” you asked him.

“what’s up?” 

“c/n talked to me earlier, while we were taking a break from dress rehearsals, and they brought something up to me that was kind of interesting.” you began, marcello raising an eyebrow at you, signaling for you to continue. “they mentioned that they hadn’t seen you as excited to work with a host as you’ve been with me.” 

“well, there is a lot of truth in that.” he began, taking a deep breath before continuing. “i may have let it slip that i have a bit of a crush on you.” he admitted.

“oh!” was all you were able to get out. that was definitely not what you were expecting him to say. 

“that’s partly the reason why i’ve been so willing to talk about you in sketches. i was hoping it would sorta grab your attention.”

“which it has, so i guess your plan worked.” you laughed. 

“i don’t mean to be too forward, and i hope this doesn’t make anything weird between us. but i do like you, and i feel like we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well over this week. i don’t know your situation, as far as if you’re in a relationship or not,”

“i’m not.” you interrupted with a smile.

“good. then maybe you and i can go out sometime. there are a lot of good date spots in the city, places that i’d love to take you to.

“i’d like that.” you nodded. a wide smile spread across marcello’s face, thoughts running through his head about how he could plan a perfect date night for you. you exchanged numbers, promising to text each other later that night, just before your uber finally arrived. 

you set your bag in the backseat before taking your other one from marcello. you hugged  him tight, , pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before climbing into the car. you waved from the window, marcello waving back as he watched you drive off. by the time you pulled up to your house and made your way inside, your phone was going off in your hand, a text from marcello popping up on the screen.

“not to sound like a broken record, but it really was so nice getting to meet and work with you this week.”

“same here. i was admittedly quite nervous about hosting, but being around you made it much easier. i can’t wait to see you again.” you replied.

“i’ve already got some ideas in mind for a date night. i hope i can continue to impress you.”

“well, you’ve been pretty good at that so far. i don’t doubt you’ll continue to do so.” you replied. you caught yourself smiling at your screen, accepting the fact that you already had strong feeling for marcello. but oh well. he did too, and you were happy that you were both already acting on them.

[loveparqdise]

aw i love rapper!chris and interviewer!reader sm wtf, how did they meet??

| rapper!chris meeting interviewer!reader for the first time…

warning: none

a/n: tysm for asking! it’s my first ever thingy so like tysm i love u

chris was at the Grammys, nominated for ‘new artist of the year’ and ‘album of the year.’ his first reaction when he found out that he was nominated was a mixture of excitement and nervousness. i mean? he was nominated for THE grammys.

currently, he’s sitting with other artists, waiting for the winners to be announced. when his name gets called for both of the nominations, he’s on top of the world. he couldn’t believe it. his goes up and collects the award, he says his emotional speech and couldn’t help but think how far he’s come.

after he had collected the awards and the ceremony was over, It was time for the interviews, as chris walked on the carpet he saw her. as soon as he laid his eyes on her, his heart started beating faster, second by second. he quickly walked towards the mic, saying a little ‘hello’ in the mic. as soon as she returned the gesture, he didn’t even pay attention to her, too stunned by her appearance. her sunshine personality.

“so, chris. How do you feel? it’s your first ever grammy and you’re already going home with 2!” she asked, enthusiastically. “it’s great, i mean i never thought i’d win and it’s a dream come true. i’ve spent the whole year making the album and i'm really glad to know so many people liked it.” he said smiling to you, since he was way taller than her he had to bend down to the mic so his voice was audible.

as the interview ended, they grew more comfortable with each other, sharing a few jokes and laughs with each other. “it’s been really fun interviewing you, any last words before you go?”

“thank you for supporting me and you,” he took the small mic in his hands so what he’s about to say isn’t audible to anyone and isn’t caught on the mic. “you look gorgeous tonight, call me?” he said as he slid his phone in her hands, wanting her number. she blushed, accepting the phone and putting her number in his phone.

he winked at her one last time, before he walked away. as he walked away, he felt a sudden butterflies in his stomach. he knew that she would be his soulmate, his partner in crime, most importantly, his everything.