#vic fic
Text
Evermore
Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader
Summary: Joel’s your older boyfriend who your parents had a hard time approving of, but you’re engaged now and spending your first Thanksgiving with your family, and well, it’s always fun doing things you know you shouldn’t do under the roof of your childhood home.
-OR-
The Thanksgiving AU
Rating: Explicit 18+
Content Warnings: No outbreak AU; Thanksgiving AU; Devoted Joel Miller; Established Relationship; Thanksgiving is the most boyfriend holiday and it needs to be discussed; Fucking in your childhood home shenanigans; Pretty soft and sweet; Needy behavior; Older man/Younger woman; Daddy kink; Size Difference; Unprotected PIV; Creampie; Breeding Kink; Oral sex; Fluff and Smut; Praise Kink; Come eating; PWP
A/N: Was thinking yesterday that Thanksgiving is the most boyfriendy holiday, and so this seemed entirely necessary after that epiphany. I’m sick as an old dog right now, and wrote this so quickly and just for fun. Any and all mistakes are property of my NyQuil induced high, apologies and enjoy and happy holidays :]
New Year’s Eve follow up
Word Count: 4.2K
Read on AO3
Ko-fi
“You’re doing so good.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, baby. So, so good. It’s going so well.” You drag your nails slowly up the wide expanse of his strong back, feeling the divots and bumps of his spine, the thick padding of muscles that jump and shiver at your touch. He’d donned the nice green and red plaid button down you’d bought him for tonight, and he’s a little damp at the small of his back, giving away the nerves he’s trying to keep hidden from you, but you can tell anyways, sensed them as if they’d been your own fluttering within you. More attuned to another person than maybe is normal, perhaps, but you know this man, your man, your fiance now. You understand him.
“You think he likes me?” And his voice goes a little gruff, sheepish, words lodging in his throat as he slowly soaps your mother’s special holiday china in the warm sink water. The two of you’d been relegated to clean up duty after you’d finished the beautiful Thanksgiving meal your mother had spent days readying in preparation for your first official visit with Joel as the man you’d soon marry. No longer just the older boyfriend who your father couldn’t stand to hear about, much less bear the sight of. And the come around had been slow going, undoubtedly, tireless work on yours and your mother’s parts trying to get him to relent, to accept the man who you’d chosen to spend the rest of your life with as a good man for his daughter.
“Yes– yes. Absolutely. You made him laugh so many times. And he was so interested when you mentioned the house.”
You feel him suck in a shaky breath and move to wrap your arms around the strong breadth of his waist, resting your cheek against him, listening to the thud, thud of his beating heart. “Christ–” He gives a tremulous laugh that you follow suit warmly, palms splaying out over his belly. “He was, wasn’t he?”
“So interested. Please, don’t worry anymore. My mom loves you, and dad’s on his way there too, I know he is, I promise.”
“He’s just protective,” he says, shutting off the water and pulling the plug on the drain. The both of you stand there in the silence together, listening to the little tornado of water suck away the remnants of the perfect dinner you’d just had with your parents and the man you were going to marry. It really had been perfect, and you’re telling him the truth when you say you really do think your father’s coming around. He’d been apprehensive at first, more than apprehensive, perhaps, with Joel being so much older than you, twenty years to be exact. And with a teenage daughter of his own, Sarah, who was spending the holiday with her mother.
Your mother had always been the easy going one, and she’d taken one look at Joel, the dark, silver threaded curls, the thick shoulders and sparkly, hazel eyes, the too charming smile and had immediately understood. Your father had seen all those same things and seen nothing but trouble immediately deserving of mistrust. Things had been rocky for a time, but when Joel had gotten down on one knee and asked you to spend the rest of your life with him and Sarah, when he’d broken ground on the house he was building you with his bare hands from the dirt up out by the lake, well… your father hadn’t been able to withhold his approval for much longer after that was all said and done.
“And for good reason,” he continues, reaching for the dish towel, drying off his hands before covering yours over his stomach with his wide palms, pulling your arms tighter around him. He brings one of your hands up to his face, cupping his own mouth with it to press a kiss to the tender cove. “The man should take me out back and drag me through the mud,” he mumbles, muffled into your skin, dragging his mouth slowly from side to side, tickling your palm with his whiskers.
You press yourself harder against him, shoving him into the edge of the counter, dizzy with the feel of your heart beating so hard against your sternum it reverberates against the ribs in his back. “No, baby. Why? Never.” You press a kiss right over the slope of his spine.
He gives a soft laugh at the feel of your wriggling against him, trying to find friction anywhere and anyway, not very inconspicuously rubbing your breasts against his back, and he turns slowly in the circle of your arms with that humming laugh still caught in his throat, bending slightly at the knees when he wraps his own arms around your waist to pull you up and into him so that your feet are left to dangle above his own heavy boots. He nuzzles at the warm, fragrant skin beneath the edge of your jaw, a small kiss to the tender spot behind your ear, where he whispers, “‘Cause all I could think about at the goddamn table, sittin’ next to your father, was how pretty your tits look in that dress you wore for me – how much I wish I could kiss that pretty pussy to sleep tonight.”
You whine low, desperate, needy, wrapping your arms behind his neck to press his face tightly to your throat, breath hitching at the feel of his teeth, sharp at your pulse. “Joel–”
He shakes his head slowly, a long stream of sighing breath warm against your collarbone before he says, “I know– I know, baby. I’m telling ya– your father should kill me for the things I wanna do to his little girl. For the things I do to her already.”
The visit had so far been everything you could’ve wished for, and what you’d appreciated more than anything, more than your father’s very approval of your fiance, or your mother’s happiness for you, was that Joel had found the perfect balance between being respectful, ingratiating even, while still remaining uncowed by your father. Walking into your parents home with your hand in his, a deferential kiss to your mother’s cheek, and a strong, self assured handshake for your father while he’d handed him the bottle of his favorite fine aged whiskey and a demure, I’m glad we could make this work for our girl.
Our girl, he’d said, and it had made everything that lived inside of you with his name on it, everything that was perpetually soft and wet for him, go molten. You loved him. You belonged to him. And you’d chosen him for yourself, and he was sure as hell going to make sure everyone the two of you came across knew what that choice entailed, what it meant to him. Your father had been forced into capitulation, all with the whiskey and the self assurance in Joel’s eyes, your own unbridled elation, and your mother’s giggles and blushing smiles like every other woman who’s ever met this man, unable to resist the charm of that Southern twang and the too gorgeous smile, no other recourse had been left to your poor dad.
You think of this as you make your way on silent tiptoes through your parent’s dark, quiet home. It had been the one concession you’d not garnered from your father, the sleeping arrangements. He’d absolutely refused to allow you and Joel to share a bed under his roof, no questions asked. And no matter how much you’d pleaded and your mother had cooed and cawed and threatened him, he’d not relented. At this point, you were worried he’d not let you sleep in the same bed as Joel even after the two of you’d been married. But what your father didn’t understand, what even you yourself barely understood sometimes was that you needed Joel. You need him. No one, no one except for Joel himself understood how desperately that ran inside of you. He understood you, he always has.
You pause as you reach the closed door of his bedroom, splaying a palm against the fine grained wood to take a settling breath, your heart beating so fast you feel it in your throat, chock full of excitement, lust, desperate yearning. To have him here, in your childhood home, where you’d been a teenager, a girl, grown into a woman, you want him so, so badly, inside of you, around you, beneath you. You can never sleep without him anymore, no comfort to be found in the too small bed of your childhood – you turn the knob and slip inside.
The blue darkness of the guest bedroom paints his form in shadows, big under the pretty quilt your mother has adorning the bed. You can see the heavy mass of his shoulder peeking from beneath the edge of the quilt, the ratty gray t-shirt you know has a faded longhorn stretched across the front; not able to sleep naked and wrapped only in you the way he usually does when under your parents roof. You turn the lock and step carefully on tipped toes, avoiding the creaky bits in the hardwood floor you’re so familiar with after a lifetime living in this house and lift the edge of the quilt to slip into the cocoon of warmth with him. Like a living furnace, you snake your arm over his flank slowly, enjoying the shiver and jerk of his muscles as you stroke him awake. Your palm, passing over thick ridged muscles and soft belly, digging beneath to feel the wispy scratch of hair there.
He makes a deep sound, low in his chest, legs shifting as he comes to wakefulness, and then the gruff murmur of your name being whispered into the dark, his big, callused palm coming to wrap entirely around your fist beneath his t-shirt, keeping you from slipping it inside his sleep pants. “Baby, what’re you doin’?” He slurs, voice full of sleep and slow waking lust.
You press your pelvis into his backside, hitching your knee up and over his hip to wrap yourself around him like vines. “I need you,” you mewl, baby voice trying to get ahead of his polite refusal before he’s able to get it out. He’d told you, before the two of you’d embarked on this weekend at your parents house, that there was to be no funny business on your part. As if he didn’t know that that was your favorite kind of business where he was concerned. You press a kiss above his scapula, then open your jaw to drag your teeth against the skin warmed cotton. You rub against him, clutching and pulling at his chest and stomach, biting and kissing as much of his back as you can reach, your foot somehow finding its way into his lap so that you can feel his quickly hardening cock against the sensitive arch of your foot.
He groans roughly. “You’re gonna get us caught, sweet girl,” he tries to protest, but wraps his hand around the little foot in his lap anyways, pressing the arch of it into that half hard erection, rubbing against it.
“I need you– I can’t sleep without you,” you whine, and he makes a frustrated sound, turning to face you, gripping your knee as he goes to open the cradle of your hips for himself, drawing your leg over his waist so that you’re suddenly chest to chest, sipping on each other’s warm breath. With a fist in your hair he gives you a hardly believable reprimand, little girl, and presses his lips briefly to yours, quick and damp, barely there, like he can’t help himself, like he knows that if he starts he won’t be able to stop, wandering hands already slipping up the hem of your nightgown, squeezing your panty clad ass.
“Your parents…” he tries again, the roll of his hips against yours, coupled with a hitched whine, making his objections a little laughable.
“Don’t you miss me? Don’t you love me? Don’t you want me here with you?”
“Of course– of course I do–” You twist your fingers in his curls, the first real press of your mouths, his damp upper lip slotting between both of yours so that you can give it a little suck. Then the tip of his tongue touching yours, and you’re opening all the way for him, moaning wantonly into his mouth, letting him lick and taste behind the line of your teeth. “‘Course I want you here, baby.”
“I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet,” you promise. “Please, please, Joel. Please, just–” The hand squeezing your ass slides between your legs, finds the damp plaquet of panties. Fuckin’ soaked already, needy girl. “Please, just fuck me. I’ll be so quiet, I promise.”
“Baby…”
Please, please, please. He’s always had something about him that turns you into nothing more than a wet little girl desperate for the big, big man’s attention. The impropriety of your surroundings has no bearing on this, the desperation is as present as ever, heightened even, maybe, because of the wrongness of it, because you could be caught red handed at any second if you’re not careful, not quiet enough.
“‘Course I love you so fuckin’ much. You even need to ask?” He rubs the flat of his palm over your pussy, the tip of his middle finger finding the nub of your clit covered by the soaked wet silk to press lightly on each pass forward.
“No, Daddy. I know,” you breathe soft and secret into his mouth, watch the slight widening of his eyes as you say it. You can picture the flush suffusing his cheeks at hearing you call him so, know the effect the sound of it has on him.
“Fucking Christ,” he murmurs, pulling you tighter against him, tilting your head back by the grip he has on your hair so that he can deepen his kiss, taste you more thoroughly. “Better be quiet while I fuck you.” He pulls back, mock frown and a note of reprimand in his voice as his fingers dip beneath the silk of your panties to find the wet, swollen mess of you already. He moans into your open mouth, your name and I love you and wet fuckin’ pussy as he starts to pet at you slowly. His fingers swirling at your clit and then moving to your opening, dipping inside just a tiny bit, giving you almost nothing, forcing a frustrated whine up your throat. “I said quiet.”
“Please, Daddy. Please,” you beg, but he returns to your clit, ignoring your whining, pinching the bundle of nerves lightly before he’s back to teasing the mouth of your cunt, dipping the tip of a single finger in shallowly to pull your wetness from you and spread it over your mound, slicking you up for him.
“We’re gonna go nice and slow. Gonna take my pretty cunt nice and slow, and you’re gonna be good for me, aren’t you? Gonna be quiet – not get us caught, right? Say yes.”
“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper, pressing kisses all along his face and jaw and throat, needy fingers twisting in his curls, scratching at the back of his neck and the hills of his shoulders. He make an approving groan of a sound, rolling the two of you over so that you’re on your back, splayed out beneath him, and he pulls the vee of your nightgown down, bearing your breasts to him, sucking on each nipple, first hard then soft, then with teeth and tongue, slicking you in his spit, and you try and stay quiet, you really, really do, but it’s so hard not to cry out at the sight of his jaw hinging wide, seemingly trying to take the whole heavy weight of your breast into his mouth in one go.
He always has you like he wants you more than anything else in the whole world, like he’s never wanted anything else in his whole life more than he wants you, and nothing feels better than that, nothing makes you crazier for him than the way he wants you so desperately.
He makes his way down the length of you with kisses to your breasts, your ribs, your belly, the mound of your pelvic bone, before he’s gathering your knees together and bending them to press against your chest, pulling the lace and silk of your panties over the curve of your bottom and diving nose first into your wet cunt, taking in a deep drag of your scent and then dragging the broad, flat of his tongue from your asshole to your clit in one long, slow swipe. The groan he ends on has you almost coming on his tongue just like that, the sound so hungry it would scare someone who doesn’t want to be wanted as badly by this man as you do. And he eats your cunt like he’s angry, like he’s in love with you, like he doesn’t care if you get caught or not. Tongue plunging into your pussy, sucking on your clit, shaking his head, quick and hard, from side to side so that the obscene sound of your wetness against his mouth is all you can hear over the cacophony sounding in your ears right before you gush for him all wet and sweet and sticky, covering his tongue and beard. His lips wrap around your swollen clit again while it still pulses for him, and you have to shove your fist into your mouth, drooling around it to stifle the sound of your cries for his cock while he sucks you into a second painfully fluttery orgasm, your womb cramping hard and tight around nothing, your cunt clutching desperately at air for the cock it’s about to gladly take. The hum of his movements, of his whines and moans, don’t match his promise for nice and slow. They tell you this is going to be hard and deep and might even hurt, and that you’ll like it all the more for that. This is, after all, what you’d snuck in here for, just exactly this.
He pulls away from your cunt with a loud, wet suck, popping your clit from his puckered mouth like a piece of too ripe, too sweet fruit, before crawling up the length of you, pulling your soaked panties and your nightgown from your body as he goes, shucking his own sweat soaked shirt over his head and kicking his pajama bottoms away. When he takes your mouth again, his face and beard are wet and sticky with your slick, all sweet sugared musk and the angry thrust of his tongue, his fingers, too hard and too tight wrapping around your jaw, grunting into your mouth as he sucks on your tongue. His burning hot cock thrusts between your wet cleft, the sound of your leaking pussy loud enough to be heard over the sound of your mingled panting breaths. You feel him grip himself, stroking once, twice, wide, blunt head bumping against slick soaked skin, before he’s notching at your cunt and shoving in, hard and fast. Not giving you a chance to think about it before he’s bumping at the mouth of your womb, a muted bruise you never tire of; his too big cock that still pinches every time, that presses in just on this side of too deep to always be comfortable, but you don’t care. The proof is in the hurt, and you need constant reminding that he’s real, that this is real. It’s your greatest pleasure, after all, the reassurance of him, of the two of you, and he never tires of giving it to you. You know that giving you the things you need and want from him, turns Joel on more than anything else.
He groans long and low into the crook of your shoulder when he bottoms out and holds there for several drawn out moments, both of you enjoying the pulse and throb of your connection. He’s so deep and you’re so wet for him, taking him so, so well, like he always tells you that you do. You’d felt, from the first moment that you’d laid eyes on him, like you’d been made for him. Put on this earth just for him to find and keep, and doing this, having each other like this, even after all the times you’ve done it, always feels like further proof of it. He grinds against you, hips shifting from side to side, tip bumping against the deepest part of you, before he’s clutching at your ass and flipping the both of you over suddenly, cock never slipping from your tight clutch when he settles you on top of him, buried to the hilt. You feel him in your stomach like this, and you tell him so, little hand coming to rest low on your belly where you’re holding him inside of you, pressing down so that the both of you can feel your connection from the inside out, groaning in tandem all wide and sparkly eyed as you look at each other. And he’s nodding his head at you as you start to shift your hips slowly, feeling the wet slide of his length, the grind of your clit against his pelvis, one hand pressing down on your belly, the other anchoring yourself on his own stomach so that you can rock yourself on him.
He pulls one of your knees up, resting your foot flat on the bed to open you to his gaze, so that he can watch the way the thick root of his cock splits your cunt open for him to fuck up into. The two of you find your rhythm, you rolling your hips down on his upthrust, and he’s still nodding his head at you, mouthing words made of only air at you while you gasp and gulp for breath, I love you and you’re so pretty and yeah, ride that cock, baby. All you can do in return is mumble his name at him over and over again, Joel, Joel, Joel, nonsensical. Your brain doesn't work when he’s got his cock wedged this deep inside of you, it just doesn’t.
There's sweat pooling in the divots of his collarbones, the sun grizzled notch of his throat, and you fold over forward, changing the angle, deepening it, to lick up those little pools of salt, sucking on his neck until he’ll surely have incriminating bruises tomorrow. You don’t care, not even a little bit. He’s so yours in this moment, always really, but right now, Joel feels so, so incredibly yours, and you love him so much, and he’s going to be your husband one day soon and nothing else really matters besides that.
He wraps both arms around your back, squeezes you to himself tight and starts to fuck up into you, fast, brutal, again, nothing nice and slow about it like he’d promised, and you’re forced to dig your teeth into his shoulder so hard you’re scared for a moment you’ll taste blood on your tongue. You can feel your orgasm crawling up your spine, pooling like liquid heat in your pelvis while everything goes tight and fluttery inside of you. “How mad would he be if I knocked you up right now? If I fucked his baby girl full’a my baby under his roof?” He grunts into your ear, and there’s the dip in your restraint. As much as you want to hold off and wait for him, you clench down hard around him with a sharp cry, mouthful of his skin to muffle you only barely. “Huh? What’dya think he’d say?” He continues, changing the angle so that his pelvis bumps against your clit on every punch in, balls slapping wetly against the curve of your ass while he pets at the tight ring of muscle back there, tempting you with more than you think you can take right now. “If you go all pretty and round and soft for me before our wedding.”
You can't speak, you’re nothing but air and sticky, sweet wet in the shape of a girl made just for him. Too tight grip in your hair, and he’s jerking your face towards him, grunting into your mouth as he starts to spill inside of you, burning hot come milked out of his cock and deep into you, and he tells you again how much he loves you, tells you that you’re his pretty little wife because it’s already felt like that for so long. A marrying of your very selves despite the lack of legal nothing that means so little to the both of you when you have all this between you already. Tells you that he can’t wait to see his baby all full of his baby.
When he’s finished pumping you filled to the brim he turns you over again, pulls out slowly so that the both of you can appreciate the sound of his heavy cock slipping wetly from your well used pussy, and when he bends to eat your mingled come out of your puffy cunt, only to then wedge your mouth open so that he can spit your fluids onto your waiting tongue, all here, taste how good we are, the only words left when it comes to this man and this thing you have between the two of you is always simply thank you.
New Year’s Eve follow up
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måneskin fic recs
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✧*:·˚ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ✧*:·˚
✧*:·˚ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ✧*:·˚
✧*:·˚ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ✧*:·˚
✧*:·˚ also, if you'd like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ✧*:·˚
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måneskin x reader: blurbs+headcannons+fics
୨୧ 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬
୨୧ 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧
୨୧ a headcanon with må with you being a successful model
-they're wearing earbuds, blasting music into their ears when they remember the they left their phone charger in the bathroom. they don't know you're showering and can't hear you over the music...
୨୧ headcanons with må x fashiondesigner!reader
୨୧ a valentine’s surprise | SMUT, orgy, oral sex, anal play, double penetration, food play, spit play, alcohol
-You’ve been feeling a little left out in your relationship so your four partners show their love to you with a surprise for Valentine’s Day.
୨୧ Gettin’ Frisky With The Måneskin Members | explicit content, gender neutral reader, switch!damiano, hard domme!victoria, vanilla!thomas, sub!ethan, freaky stuff, toys and s/m, oral (both ways), degradation, spit, pain play, brat taming, bondage, sinning cuz rock’n’roll never dies
୨୧ our favourite band with an S/O with bad menstrual periods
| talk abt periods, so dyphoria warning (we'll get back on the totally GN shit tmrw, just filling requests rn), lil bit of swearing and NSFW on Ethan
୨୧ how the members of Måneskin confess their feelings for you måneskin x gn!reader
victoria de angelis
·。🍓 my sweet valentine vic de angelis x fem! reader | Fluff
-Victoria's first Valentine's day celebrating with you is a bit chaotic but turns out better than expected.
·。🍓 date night vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut, fingering, oral (female receiving) and bdsm dynamics
-you and vic go on a date and it ends with fun at the hotel
·。🍓 hush, hush, cucciola. vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut
-you’re were asked to come over and help to calm Vic down after another disagreement during creating new song, and you find just the way to make her happy and peaceful again
·。🍓 pillow talk vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut
-your night trip to the kitchen gets interrupted by a strange noise, the results of your investigation are more pleasant then you could expect.
·。🍓 long stormy night damiano x fem!reader x vic | SMUT!!!, degradation, corruption kink, wax play, knife play, blood play, spanking, bit of fear play, unprotected sex, it’s just wild ok, i wanted to treat y/n
-It’s a last day of your small, a bit disappointing gateway trip. The big storm is approaching, yet your evening takes an interesting turn when you bump into two hot Italians in the hotel bar
·。🍓 cold breeze, hot cheeks vic de angelis x fem! reader | angst, fluff
-a rather cold October makes your blood boil as you and Vic attend Ethan's birthday party
·。🍓 i think I wanna hold you, but I'm not sure i'm allowed
vic de angelis x fem! reader | angst with tiny hint of smut
·。🍓 I'll show the lovin' that you'll never get from a man. vic de angelis x fem! reader | angst, fluff, smut
-your friends finally meet your boyfriend, and even though nothing goes according to the plan, your night ends up being better than you could hope for, thanks to Vic
·。🍓 sweat and good grips vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut
·。🍓 the one with victoria’s boobs. victoria x gn!reader | fluff
-Victoria needs help taping her boobs for an upcoming performance. You get more than you bargained for.
·。🍓 the one where victoria wants to watch victoria x fem!reader x ethan | smut
·。🍓 “OPEN YOUR MOUTH.” victoria x gn!reader | soft smut
-along the lines of The one where victoria is patient.
·。🍓 “YEAH, WELL, IF YOU WEREN’T SO DRUNK MAYBE I WOULD.” vic de angelis x fem! reader
·。🍓 “I KNOW YOU CAN BE LOUDER THAN THAT.” vic de angelis x fem! reader
·。🍓 “GIVE ME ATTENTION.” vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut
·。🍓 say you'll see me again even if it's just in your wildest dreams vic de angelis xfem!reader | fluff, smut
-You're an up-and-coming actress, and Vic's best friend since high school. You have been friends and in love with each other for as long as you can remember. So when you have the chance to be together, it's magical.
·。🍓 baby said vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut
-you've been on a few dates with Victoria and you think things are going really well. You just wish you had known where the night was going beforehand- maybe you would have picked a table with longer tablecloths.
·。🍓 latenight devil vic de angelis x fem! reader
-victoria covers for you after you sneak backstage ahead of a Måneskin gig & invites you into her dressing room for an unusual encounter
·。🍓 forgive me father vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut, basically porn
·。🍓 the ocean's daughter swearing, alcohol consumption, drowning as a metaphor, smut
-while on holiday in italy, an encounter derails your life enough to make you pack up on a whim and move to the very city in which you first saw her — the ocean's daughter.
·。🍓 vic blurb
-doing domestic stuff with Victoria
·。🍓 a threesome with victoria and damiano! damiano x fem!reader x vic | smut
-reader is victoria’s partner and starts to develop a certain ‘obsession’ for dami, until vic decides to fix it.
·。🍓 vic de angelis fic victoria de angelis x fem!reader
-y/n is the other female member of the band, who has had feelings for vic for a while now, but was too nervous to say anything. one night after a concert in new york changes that after the bassist overhears a conversation between damiano and y/n.
·。🍓 thorns victoria de angelis x fem!reader | Mentions of smoking. Mentions of panic. Swearing.
-victoria meets her ex-girlfriend (Ava). The unplanned “date” upsets her and she decides to drink and smoke to cope. When she wakes up in the morning her best friend Y/N (who she also happens to have a crush on) is there to try and reason with her.
·。🍓 lucid victoria de angelis x fem!reader
-It started with a spilled drink and ended with a clumsy kiss on the dance floor. A night out with friends takes an unexpected turn when you bump into the one person that's been on your mind for the better part of a year- the same stranger who stole both your chapstick and your heart.
·。🍓 nightmares victoria de angelis x fem!reader | A description of a nightmare. Other than that all is fluff and comfort.
-When Y/N has a terrifying nightmare and wakes up screaming, Victoria is there to comfort her.
·。🍓 kisses and cake vic de angelis x reader | very fluffy, a little spicy
·。🍓 vic blurb vic de angelis x reader
-being in a punk band and having vic feature in a show (you know like thomas recently did with starcrawler) and her doing her scissoring thing on top of me and then when she extends and after extending a hand to help me up and pulling me into a very gay gay gay kiss smearing her lipstick on my lipstick and leaving a big lipstick stain on my cheek as well
·。🍓 birthday wish victoria de angelis x fem!reader | smut
-little birthday blurb
·。🍓 church crush vic de angelis x reader | kinky as kink abba; innocent/corruption kink, and idk, sacrilege?
-good girl!reader having a massive obsession on a not-so-good girl from her church.
·。🍓 proficiency test victoria de angelis x gn!reader | a bit of swearing + one (1) explicit and one (1) implicit mention of sex + i'm very much projecting (who doesn't) + shitty german
-vic decides to help you study. chaos ensues.
·。🍓 coming home victoria de angelis x fem!reader
-vic has had a long day but coming home to you lifts the uneasiness from her shoulders and she vocalizes just how lucky she feels that you are in her life.
·。🍓 because of you idiot! victoria de angelis x gn!reader | angst(I guess), romantic fluff
-Victoria suddenly comes distance, and you try to find out why.
·。🍓 fluffy blurb vic de angelis x reader
-(it's something about getting matching tattoos with vic)
·。🍓 fuffly/smut with victoria victoria de angelis x fem!reader
-fluffy morning/half smut with victoria. nipples playing.
·。🍓 your camera roll while dating vic vic de angelis x reader | fluff, smut
·。🍓 knowing your worth vic x fem/gn! reader | hurt, comfort
-Vic is there for you after a conflict with your parents.
·。🍓 the first happiest birthday vic de angelis x reader | fluff
·。🍓 crawling back to you vic de angelis x reader
-Vic once again finds her way back to you.
·。🍓 one of a kind vic de angelis x reader | fluff, mentions of sex
-Vic finds out just how rich the feeling of love can be.
·。🍓 “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretend that it’s you!” vic de angelis x reader | fluff, angst
·。🍓 pt 2 hospital vic fic. vic de angelis x reader
·。🍓 “everything before the word ‘but’ is horseshit.” vic de angelis x reader | smut
·。🍓 the one where victoria is patient. victoria de angelis x fem!reader | smut
-you've been with Victoria for half a year. Maybe it's about time you pushed your fears away.
·。🍓 “Yeah, well, if you weren’t so drunk maybe I would.” vic de angelis x reader | fluff
·。🍓 “Give me attention.” vic de angelis x reader | smut
·。🍓 “We’re in public, you know.” vic de angelis x reader | fluff
·。🍓 “Wait, don’t pull away… Not yet.” vic de angelis x reader | fluff
·。🍓 "Take off your clothes, but leave the heels on." vic de angelis x reader | fluff
·。🍓 vic fic vic de angelis x reader
-A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party
·。🍓 vic blurb vic de angelis x reader
-Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead.
·。🍓 l'amore è più forte di ogni segreto: Part 1. victoria de angelis x fem!reader | angst, swearing, bad google translate translations, overuse of italics, mention of someone called ‘A’ - Damiano’s girlfriend
-unbeknownst to you both, paparazzi photograph you and Victoria while on your way back from a date night. When you find out in the morning, the two of you have very different ideas of how to handle the situation.
·。🍓 l'amore è più forte di ogni segreto - Part 2. victoria de angelis x fem!reader | angst, swearing, bad google translate translations, overuse of italics.
·。🍓 k is for kisses vic de angelis x reader
-You and your girlfriend, Victoria, both like to tease each other. Kisses ensue.
·。🍓 peculiar and beautiful victoria de angelis x gn!reader | angsty but also fluffy
-reader finds themself in a emotional rut. A few comments online, the constant youtube recommendations on how to be “perfect” have been making them feel some type of way, hiding away from the one person that can help them; Victoria
·。🍓 amalfi nights victoria de angelis x fem!reader | smut, pretty vanilla, softdom!vic, servicetop!vic, praise, kind of fluffy smut
-reader and victoria are for vacation in Amalfi. After a candle-lit dinner at the restaurant, after a long day of swimming and sunbathing, victoria just wants to show you her love.
·。🍓 afterglow victoria de angelis x gn!reader | mentions of sex
-reader meets victoria while traveling with friends. The two create a lovely summer fling and reader can not help but bask in the afterglow of victorias influence hoping to encounter her again.
·。🍓 homesick vic de angelis x reader | tw sickness, vomitting
-vic and the reader being on a long vacation together. One night the reader wakes up homesick and ends up being sick in the toilet, trying to be as quiet as they can not to worry vic too much. To no use, of course, as vic wakes up alarmed by the sounds of someone being ill in the bathroom and then goes to comfort the sick, guilty, crying reader?
·。🍓 vic fic vic de angelis x reader
-An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.
damiano david
✧*: i want to dance on your body damiano david x fem!reader | smut
-you and your bestie hit up a party when you start grooving with Damiano, and the dance floor chemistry carries over to his hotel room. That's where the magic unfolds, and you both go to cloud as he compares you to an angel.
✧*: i'm gonna fly straight to you damiano david x fem!reader | fluff
-you and Damiano are cuddled up in bed, brainstorming epic future adventures together.
✧*: i wanna paint your face like you're my Mona Lisa. damiano david x fem!reader | smut
-damiano takes you to see his new yacht
✧*: long stormy night damiano x fem!reader x vic | SMUT!!!, degradation, corruption kink, wax play, knife play, blood play, spanking, bit of fear play, unprotected sex, it’s just wild ok, i wanted to treat y/n
-It’s a last day of your small, a bit disappointing gateway trip. The big storm is approaching, yet your evening takes an interesting turn when you bump into two hot Italians in the hotel bar
✧*: overthinking damiano david x fem!reader | swearing, alcohol, smoking, smut related things in general
-Your relationship with Damiano is going through a crisis and some jealousy. All becomes clear after a filed party and a steamy night. There is a bit sad, angsty beginning, smut in the middle and a bit of fluff in the end. So, we have the whole package.
✧*: welcome home damiano david x fem!reader | surprisingly fluffy but also smut
-after a long week all you need is a loving touch of your currently absent boyfriend. Luckily in the morning there is a very handsome surprise waiting for you, and this allows you to start your day in best way you could possibly imagine
✧*: 300,000 hearts damiano david x fem!girlfriend!reader
-where damiano sings a song about you he wrote in highschool, to a full arena
ethan torchio
ᑦ( •ᴥ• )ᐣ blush ethan torchio x reader | pure fluff
-a blurb of Ethan meeting his new makeup artist who's really kind and bubbly and he instantly gets a crush on them?
ᑦ( •ᴥ• )ᐣ a night in paris ethan torchio x fem!reader | smut+swearing
-you went on a tour with the band and Ethan enjoyed Paris the most. Having your boyfriend all happy and excited turned out to be better then you expected.
ᑦ( •ᴥ• )ᐣ "The way your eyes get darker when you get aroused, is making me lose my mind." ethan torchio x fem!reader | smut
-If acting unwise get's you places, maybe you're just pushing it to be on your knees.
thomas raggi
❤︎ ❥ "We passed 'just friends' about 20 fucks ago." thomas raggi x reader | angst, fluff, smut
❤︎ ❥ sanremo. thomas raggi x gn!reader | swearing, slightly sugggestive
-ever the supportive boyfriend, thomas indulges you in a sanremo 2023 watch party.
#maneskin x reader#maneskin#måneskin#måneskin x reader#måneskin imagine#maneskin imagine#vic de angelis x reader#vic de angelis#damiano david#damiano david x reader#ethan torchio#ethan torchio x reader#thomas raggi#thomas raggi x reader#smut#maneskin smut#fic recs
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“but it’s gonna be okay now, alright?” — deliveries of love chapter 17 | commission by lacampanule
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Do you think Charles and Carlos will shed a few tears after Abu Dhabi?
I think they might, of course I do. I think Carlos is a very emotional guy even though he was brought up to be closed off about his feelings (and he really did his utmost to challenge those beliefs and he's shown that he no longer needs to be closed off to be taken seriously in this sport). And now with what we've seen from Charles? Oof. There *will* be tears. They were about to break in Bahrain and it's just the beginning of the year, anon. They will have to swap helmets by the end of the year and I'm willing to bet actual money in them hugging and mayble breaking during the hug. Yeah. I mean, in the car, during the whole chili debacle, I'd bet if Charles were to touch Carlos to reassure him, my man would've cracked. Because that's what I do, if I'm *this* close to crying and someone dares to touch me I break like a dam.
Or maybe they won't show the tears. Maybe. But I don't know, they were teary-eyed during Bahrain. I can't even start to think that they would be able to hold off crying until there's no cameras when their emotions are running that high, especially since it will be their last race as teammates. We will be crying, absolutely, and they probably will, too. 😅
#charlos#carlos sainz jr#charles leclerc#there will be tears streaming down *my* face in Abu Dhabi anon that's for sure#the best teammates tbh#to see charles break would not be in my bingo of 2024 but he's been behaving really emotional since february so#maybe he will surprise me and if he cries I will definitely be inconsolable#and to see Carlos shed tears over his teammate? the fics *will* write themselves#vic talks#anon#ask#charlos thoughts
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Eddie buying you a candy thong and begging for you to wear it so he can eat it off of you but his dream is quickly killed when it feels like he’s eating literal teeth. In theory it was hot but in practice he just ends up ripping it off of you, sending the candy flying everywhere
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A Tim, Helena, Vic, Kate, Renee team-up would kick ass. Mostly I want Helena and Kate to interact more and bond over their respective Questions :]
Okay i love this idea but it's also literally this
#SADLJBGASLDG#Tim 'third wheel' drake#he already third wheels stephcass its fineee#but honestly yeah i want tim vic and helena to interact again bc they are sooo funnyin cry for blood#also love this bc i want tim to interact with renee in general(for detective/question purposes)#and to interact with kate( for gay wayne family purposes)#ALSO YEAH HELENA AND KATE AS A DUO IS UNDERRATE#esp bc they're both close with renee#and Im also in love with both of them#which is a factor#<- this tumblr user is gay#anyways i think this crossover could be a super serious murder mystery that would be awesome and i may now write a fic about#or super campy with them all being serious and it making them look stupid#dc#spork says stuff#vic sage#helena bertinelli#renee montoya#tim drake
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paloma: first meeting
— simon "ghost" riley x oc!silentdove reyes.
summary: he's not annoyed, per se, but ghost is just not really in the mood to chit-chat with the american airman scurrying around the base. at best, he tolerates them.
(or the first exchange between ghost and his montanan woman.)
warnings: none, aside from explicit language.
note: okay, so despite this being an obvious OC-insert series, i invite anyone and everyone to read it :D this is actually my first time tackling an OC-insert fanfic (as well as writing ghost) so im still trying to get the rhythm of things.
dividers by: @saradika
paloma (masterlist) | main masterlist
[2021]
Simon Riley won’t ever admit it — never aloud, anyway — but every time he steps foot on American soil, he feels more akin to a wolf draped in sheep’s clothing.
In his mind, he sticks out like a sore thumb. He is not a hero, really; unlike the lot teetering around the military base he is currently stationed at for the next five or so weeks, he is less flesh and blood, and more a phantom. Or something along those lines. Actually, that could explain why there is such little traffic aimed his way. But he doesn’t particularly care. His schedule lacks the room to voice any complaints.
Right now, his main concern is doing his job, and doing it right.
Two weeks back, Price had him fishing out his passport tucked away inside his bedside table. “Fancy a two month getaway to the States?” Great Falls, Montana, to be exact. High west, nearing the border of Canada, and surrounded by land he’s only ever seen in those silly ass spaghetti western movies.
The view is nice, he’ll admit. Beautiful, even. Exhilarating. He now understands why they refer to Montana as “Big Sky Country.”
Malmstrom is much smaller than he imagined, and homier too. The Air Force base is nestled within the city’s east side, offering its own museum and park. He’s quite grateful for the latter; the trails allow for his nighttime walks when the nightmares prove too shitty to sleep.
Great Falls is pretty as well. Price would like it, maybe Garrick too. He knows the two are big on history, and almost every inch of the city is drenched with some memory belonging to the old frontier days.
Upon arriving, the yanks provided him with his own private office, housed in the back of the 341st logistics readiness squadron. It’s nothin’ fancy, really, just a wee room furnished with a dark mahogany desk, two windows, a steel cabinet, the Montana flag to his left, and the American to his right.
Again, he’s not one to complain. Something’s something.
Earlier, one of the higher-up airmen, a Staff Sergeant Benson (he believes is the name), had handed him a folder jam-packed with a shit ton of mission statements — logistics, strategic planning, reports of previous global concerns, and reviews of the base’s Minuteman III intercontinental ballistic missile. All the documents are dated in a time range varying between two months ago to 0800 this morning.
In the back of his mind, he can already hear Price chuckling.
“Have fun, Simon.”
Bloody bastard.
So now, Ghost sits hunched over the desk, feeling a little too damn big for it. All the paperwork is strewn about messily around him, with sticky notes, a pen, and some other random shit of his. No one has yet to visit him; until that happens, he feels little need to remain organized.
His boot taps against the floor. “—Initial efforts to clean polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs) from launch facilities at Malmstrom AFB are ongoing but seeing success…” Ghost reads under his breath. PCBs? That’s nice to hear.
“...after PCBs were detected on surfaces in launch facilities at all three of the command’s missile wings.”
PCBs. Polychlorinated biphenyls — man-made and highly toxic, consisting of carbon, hydrogen, and chlorine atoms. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he flips onto the next page.
“We know they’re present on what appears to be otherwise pristine surfaces, due to the survey—”
—a sudden knock interrupts his reading.
With a curse on his tongue, Ghost sets down the report. He quicks a sneaking glance at his watch. 1342 hours. He’s due in a meeting at 1700.
“Come in.” His voice sounds low and raspy, the two words sounding more like a growl than a greeting. He’s not annoyed, per se, but Ghost is just not really in the mood to chit-chat with the American airmen scurrying around the base. At best, he tolerates them.
(In his mind, they’re all little Graves, ready to stir up a headache.)
The door slowly cracks open.
“Lieutenant Riley?” A female voice calls out — soft and cautious; Ghost’s chin drops against his knuckles. “Apologies for the disruption, sir, but I have some additional paperwork I need to drop off with you, at the request of my superior.” He grunts, and the airman then steps into his office, quickly shutting the door behind her before meeting his eyes.
It is entirely unlike him, Ghost knows, but his brain almost short-circuits right then and there. Two dark brown eyes, framed by thick lashes, peering up at him. Shit. He’d always thought brown was such a pretty eye color on a woman, but hers stretched further across common compliments.
Both of ‘em — they held no animosity, no uneasiness or fear, nothing.
That, itself, is quite fucking bizarre. He’s not used to that.
Ghost is .... well, Ghost. He knows the mask he is always donning on his face isn't exactly a sign of welcomeness. Just his mere presence is enough to startle the living shit out of rookies, baby recruits, wide-eyed sergeants, and the like. There is something inherently unnerving when you are unable to get a good reading of the person you're standing across from.
She’s brave, he thinks. Or merely oblivious to who he is.
“Here you go, sir,” the airman says while placing the packet of new documents down on his desk. Her lips are shaped prettily, plump and shining with a fresh layer of gloss, and across her nose is a splatter of faint freckles. Under a different circumstance, maybe he would’ve taken the time to try and count them all.
Ghost swallows hard, incapable (for what feels like the first time in his life) of mustering up an appropriate reply. “Ah, thank you, ma’am.”
The airman's brow lifts.
“Reyes,” she then corrects him with a kind smile, gesturing to the name badge sitting above her right chest pocket. Sure enough, in bold military lettering, reads Reyes. “My name is Senior Airman SilentDove Reyes. I am actually a cryptologic linguist analyst here on base; but sometimes I run errands for others, when not needed for a translation, of course.”
There is a slight chirp in her voice that Ghost picks up, along with the way she casually rocks back and forth on her feet. She seems awfully young, no older than 22, possibly 23, but even that's cutting it; a kid, compared to him. Maybe 5'7, with dark hair pulled back into two tight braids that fall at her belted waistline.
A stark contrast compared to him.
He's oddly curious now — about her age and first name and those long braids and why she stands before him, calm, collected, and sure — but he knows damn well this is not the time nor place for any questions. Both of them are on the clock, and it is likely she’ll need to report back to her supervisor soon.
He offers her a curt nod. “Well, thank you again, Reyes,” he states, keeping his voice flat.
“You are welcome, sir.” She turns to leave, but when her hand latches onto the doorknob, Reyes glances over her shoulder at him, “—oh, and Lieutenant? If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
–
The successful cleaning came after a bioenvironmental team at Malmstrom AFB …. Malmstrom AFB .. consulted with engineers and ….. and medical experts on the cleaning …. cleaning processes and–
–and agents most likely to effectively remove the chemicals….
He knows his mind is wandering off, in desperate search of that pretty senior airman from fifteen minutes ago. “Bloody fucking hell,” Ghost grumbles, leaning back in his chair. His head lolls back as he blinks upward, studying the ceiling overhead. The texture is popcorn, a creamy color, with a simple fan jutting down. One light bulb, probably a recent replacement.
Fuck. He doesn’t need this shit. Not one bit.
Five more weeks and he’ll be gone from here.
Ghost rechecks his watch, feeling a bit peeved at the time. 1411. He has several more hours until he can leave all this work shit behind for the evening, and maybe catch a short walk before hunkering down for the night. He doesn’t like sitting down for too long; it causes him to become restless. Agitated. Overthinking.
He doesn’t want distractions. He doesn’t need ‘em. Distractions ruin work ethic; clouding up the mind while fucking up all sense of responsibility. Price will have his ass if he – somehow – becomes compromised. And he'll never hear the end of it from Johnny.
Settling back into the paperwork, he decides that he won’t allow himself another second thinking about all that – the American airman and her pretty brown eyes and high cheekbones and first name.
Something tells him that’s easier said than done.
#vic writes 🧸#paloma series#call of duty#cod mw#cod mw2#cod mw3#modern warfare#modern warfare 2#cod ghost#cod mw2 ghost#cod oc#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley imagine#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x oc#simon riley x fem!reader#simon riley x reader#call of duty fic#simon riley fanfic#simon ghost riley x ofc#ghost x oc#ghost x reader#ghost call of duty
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my personal pipe dream is that one monday the egg statistics drop and flippa (and maybe tilin) are just there. at the end. with one heart, and one gray checkmark.
what i imagine is the server flips their shit. alive!!! alive!!! but they log in and they don't see the eggs. instead they get a message. i do not care who it's from or how it's delivered. they're told the eggs are being held captive somewhere, but they're alive. all that's left is to find them, before sunday at midnight pst. bc if their tasks aren't done, they die (one checkmark, one quest set. once rescued they become triple check like the other eggs)
slimeriana come CRASHING back into the server, they don't know jack shit, ESPECIALLY mariana who doesn't recognize 90% of the island anymore but holy fuck, flippa is alive somewhere and they have to find her. and maybe mariana's still in the old server days mindset of raising his kid alone but slime's slowly been indoctrinated into "it takes a village" and honestly the absolute second mariana logs on, someone's gonna be in chat already like HEY MARIANA CAN I TALK TO YOU? be it baghera or cellbit or forever or bad or I DON'T KNOW, COULD GENUINELY BE ANYONE LMAO but like mystery and eggs in danger is chumming the water for this server
which is great bc A) mariana has a concrete goal for logging into the server (finding his daughter) and B) he would be interacting with the rest of the server along the way, because he's not going to be doing this alone (he wouldn't even be allowed lmfao the rest of the server would be at his doorstep asking to help him in like 15 seconds flat) which means C) he might get reasons to log in extending outside flippa and slime. bingooooo
i call this a pipe dream bc i can poke so many holes in this even rn (does cc!mariana want flippa back, like fr? i'm not up to date) but can you IMAGINE. LIKE DAMN. i'm putting this idea into the public domain fr go nuts with it.
#qsmp#would not mind if that means the revival is a slow burn#(bc of admin team having to prep the mystery and/or adventure)#that would just be a bonus tbh bc it means that the admins would be given more time to fit it into their plans#bc i imagine the story would be harder to alter for the immediate future#but their plans down the line might be more malleable and thus could fit the potentially weeklong mystery into them#this is my pipe dream though i have worms in my brain and they've been screaming flippa since the bug was discovered#i'm not gonna cry in a gutter if it doesn't happen lmfao#qsmp juanaflippa#qsmp elmariana#shut up vic#block game brainrot#submitting this for peer review maybe if i'm lucky the admins will club penguin it#(read: take and run with the idea and pretend that was their plan all along)#either that or a really talented fic author will write and post like three chapters i'll accept that too#✨ this idea is now public domain go hogwild my loves ✨
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ok ok hear me out... old man... yuri? unless? 🙈
#kenny mccormick#butters stotch#vic chaos#sp bunny#docvic#DREW THIS AGES AGO TEEHEE HI#based on a fic on ao3 but i leave that to all of ur discretion lmfao#my art
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Femme Like You - Chapter 2
Chapter 1
Summary: You are the new tour manager for Arctic Monkeys during The Car era. You are practically the only girl in the team, also younger than the rest (27 y.o.), so your skills are immediately called into question. In particular, by the frontman who is not used to being led by a woman.
Word count: 10,2k
Warnings: swearing, emotional swing (is it even a warning?), kind of voyeurism (slight), age gap
A/N: Dear friends, hi!! I know, I know that I've promised you to update the fic every 3 weeks, and the disappeared for 1.5 months, but I spontaneously found a job, so there was very little time. But the chapter is much longer and with some interesting collaborations ;) I'll hope you enjoy them!
And write down what do you think if I make a description of not only the whole work, but also the chapter before each new part? Or is it better to keep the intrigue till the end?
In any case, I look forward to your feedback, it's soooo much important for me. I won't promise to return before the end of September, but I'll do my best not to delay. I already have an interesting plot for the next chapters, you should like it💔
*guys, English isn't my first language so if I have (and I know I have lol) any grammar/logic mistakes don't hesitate to tell me :)
The first week after meeting with the group flew by unnoticed. You dealt with the documentation, understanding how necessary it is, no matter how much you hated it, phoned the representatives of Ashton Gate stadium, made sure that everything was okay and confirmed the presence of the group and even tried to check the weather since the gig would be held outside. However, it turned out to be a little more difficult with the transport company. Apparently, James forgot to warn them about the temporary removal of his duties, so you had to spend time clarifying the situation and explaining who you are. It seemed that your hands-on approach was excessive, because you were trying to control everything in one time, but only due to the feeling of extra responsibility.
Steven, as promised, sent the contacts of the guys and important people from the technical crew, so now your phone had the names of Jamie Cook, Nick O'Malley, Matthew Helders and Alex "dickhead" Turner among others. 19 years old you would definitely envy yourself. So when you got a message while cooking pasta for dinner on Saturday night, you already knew it was from the drummer and not from an anonymous online scammer.
Matthew Helders: "good evening, Miss Y/S! I hope you aren't busy. We'll wait you on the soundcheck on Monday at 2 pm in Domino, need your advice :)"
You almost overcooked Carbonara bacon rereading the message. "Do they really need my advice?" you whispered, furrowing your brows "About what?". But the only answer was:
You: "Sure! Do I need to take some 12% cider?"
Matthew Helders: "you better not show up without a package lol"
Immediately followed by:
Matthew Helders: "just kidding! We are waiting only for you, but in the company of cider it will be even better)"
You chuckled, surprised at how quickly Matt went from formal Miss at the beginning of the conversation to smiles and lols at the end. To tell the truth, you still didn't fully understand how to behave with them. On the one hand, you are their manager and have a certain influence, as well as subordination. Steven and James don't have it, although they are "higher" in position, but they've been friends for half of a life, and you are a completely new person. On the other hand, in this area there is no place for strict formalities, especially since the guys don't look like those who would comply with them. After all they were big kids no matter how mature and pretentious they could look on stage, and you clearly felt it. Maybe your company will help them to relax even more, so there won't be any awkwardness and you will naturally find an edge where all of you will feel comfortable and which no one will cross.
With those thoughts, Carbonara and Rosé you spent your Saturday night watching your favorite series "La Piovra". You got used to such calm and quiet evenings. The era of parties until the morning has passed in the university years, and it’s not that you don’t go to clubs now, it’s just that the older you become the better you began to appreciate moments of silence. Not to be bored alone with yourself is the most valuable skill that you have acquired in your life. Having lived first with your parents for a long time, then getting married early at the age of 20 and having lived with your husband for 3 years, you were essentially not left alone with yourself. Having discovered over time that you feel absolutely nothing for the person whom you said "yes" to in the registry office, you were horrified and frightened to say at least. You thought that you get married once for a lifetime, but it turned out that happy endings exist only in fairy tales. That period of despondency, depression and eventual deepening into work gave its results. Major labels began to notice you, inviting you to musical projects with famous bands such as Maneskin. You worked with them for 1.5 years, leaving after their heyday at the Eurovision, realizing that you can’t give them more. That was your second decision to leave, but unlike the divorce, it didn't bring you much suffering. You understood that you and the group gave each other a lot, and although the parting was bitter, everyone understood that it was necessary. You still remained friends with the guys and periodically wrote off to meet. You planned to go to their concert, but couldn't find the time. And after your assignment to the Monkeys it became even more harder to shedule.
After the divorce you didn't have a serious relationship, instead you had a dream job, money, a car, a country house and even a corgi Grapes. You weren't afraid of the future, loved the time in seclusion and found inner peace by meditating on the production of cider, which was your unusual but very tasty hobby. Were you fully happy, though? Wouldn't you like to cross the threshold of the house and be met not by a dog's barking, but by a warm kiss on the forehead and a quiet "how was your day"? You probably wanted to, but it was hard to admit, especially considering that the fear of intimacy sat somewhere deep inside, not letting you forget the disappointment that you experienced when you removed the engagement ring from your finger. Although you remained friends who didn't hold evil against each other, the bitterness of your marriage was almost impossible to remove from the memories.
But for now, your head has been occupied by the sudden question of where to put Grapes for the duration of the tour...
Monday morning was sunny and peaceful, you woke up in a surprisingly good mood, put on your make-up, put on your favorite lime flared jeans, loaded a case of apple drink from the basemеnt into the car, patted Grapes and drove off to the studio. The road took about an hour, so during this time you managed to phone your father. You haven't talked much lately due to your workload, and now was almost the only time of the day when you were relatively free. You put the speaker phone mode, listening to the slightly hoarse voice of the man, without being distracted from the road.
"Hello my dear! How are you?"
"Hi daddy, I'm fine, going to work right now"
"My busy bee, James has already told me about your progress" you could hear him chuckle, coughing a little. You could only guess what Ford said to your father, because you spoke to him only once in these 2 weeks, when you recalled him after meeting with the group. And not that your story was very colorful. Therefore, the guys or Steven contacted him, and from this point of view, you couldn't imagine what they possibly come up with towards you.
"He assured me the boys liked you"
"Oh, really?" you said on the exhale, squeezing your hands on the steering wheel tightly.
"Yes, James is pleased with you. Well done, babe!" you melted under his words. It felt like you were a little girl again who drew a family picture that was hung on the refrigerator, even though mom and dad looked like monsters.
"Thank you daddy, I'm very happy to be with them actually"
"Of course, in such a company of men. Should I be jealous? 'Cause I looked through their photos on the Internet" dad said proudly, to which you burst out laughing, stopping at a traffic light.
"Dad, c'mon, no! They're too old for me" you laughed.
"10 years are not a big deal. Anyway, your choice. Just don't forget to eat please, I know how tough you work now. Otherwise you'll get drunk on your cider. God, how did you even manage to get into this alcohol sphere..." the man groaned in prostration. You rolled your eyes, but still smiled without answering. You got used to your father's fast flow of different thoughts.
"And don't roll your eyes, little naughty one! I care about you. So if they hurt you, you know who to call, right?"
"Oi, who will offend whom first" you retorted defiantly.
"Okay okay, I won't interrupt anymore. Kiss Grapes for me. I love you"
"And I love you very much, hello mom"
"I'll pass it on, bye!"
You turned off the call, fully focusing on the road. After talking with your parents, you always felt warm in your soul, so up to the studio you didn't leave a smile when you sang songs from the radio under your breath.
You arrived exactly at 2 o'clock, as agreed with Matt, but when you saw a few more cars in the parking lot in addition to the familiar Cadillac, you realized that the guys had been here for a long time. You must have looked a little ridiculous in a business suit and heels and a wooden box under your arm, but you didn't have other choice. Holding the car key in your mouth and trying to press the button at the same time, you clumsily closed the trunk with your leg. A purse was still dangling somewhere on your shoulder, and sunglasses had slipped from head to the bridge of your nose. "Must be an amazing picture to observe" you thought tiredly "Oh, if only Matt were here".
But before you had time to think about it, you heard a soft laugh behind you. You turned around sharply, noticing the frontman smoking alone near the entrance. You spat the key into the box, finally pressing the right button, and shouted
"And how long do you look?"
"I came exactly at the most interesting moment" man smiled, taking a puff.
You heavily crossed the entire parking lot, approaching him. Turner, having finished smoking a cigarette and throwing it into a nearby trash can, silently took the box from your hands.
"Hi, Y/N" he greeted you wheezing nicotine in the lungs.
"Hi," you frowened a little, but slowly added "Alex".
Calling him by his first name was... Unusual. A week ago the appeal to him was exclusively Mr. Turner, but today he was the first to break this line. "Well, apparently, we will both have problems with the boundaries of what is acceptable" bitterly flashed through your thoughts.
You both entered the building - Alex with a box in front, you behind holding the door. The way was silent. You wanted to say something to break this crystal quietness of his, but by the time you mustered up the courage, you stopped at the door 13A. The vocalist pushed it with his left shoulder, squeezing the alcohol forward, and you trotted along.
As soon as you and Alex entered the sound studio, you were immediately greeted with whistling and loud hooting.
"Look who's here, Miss Y/N"
"Hi, guys! I'm here with gifts as promised" you smiled broadly.
Alex at this time put the box on the table and immediately took one bottle for himself.
You noticed that there were Tyler and Tom in the studio as well, so you mentally praised yourself for taking bottles with a margin. You didn't know them personally yet, but was willing to change it. Turner introduced you to the men, and surprisingly you didn't hear his usual sneer in the voice.
"So, welcome Y/N Y/S, she's our manager for the summer before America starts and James gets back"
"Happy to finally meet you!" you were the first to extend your hand to Tyler, which he shook gently, smiling affably, and then to Tom. But he intercepted your hand, kissing your knuckles and making you laugh.
"Mutually, Miss" Rowley said enchanted.
"And she makes her own awesome cider, get one" Matt ordered businesslike, raising his voice from behind the drum kit.
"Yeah, there is enough for everyone, don't hesitate to take"
Evidently you arrived during the break, and before that they had already rehearsed a bit. You were wondering what kind of advice they need from you. The thought that they just needed cider you pushed back with a grin. But Alex, as if reading your thoughts, leisurely started speaking leaning on the table and holding a drink.
"Well, thanks for the cider, but that's not what we called you for. Since you're such a big fan of My Propeller, we discussed it here and decided that it's possible to put one on the set list for a couple of times. So listen to how it sounds, maybe have some ideas or whatevah" he was trying to sound casual, not attaching importance to his words for you.
"I'll do my best!" you almost jumped from such news.
Jamie chuckled audibly, running his fingers over the guitar. You sat down on the couch as Matt tapped the rhythm with his sticks and the melody began.
Seductive. The first association that came to your mind when you heard the intro of this song. It was your favorite from Humbug for sure and one of the band's all time favorites. Alex never told in any interview what was the secret of the lyrics, and probably that was the reason it attracted you even more. The guys played it selflessly, as if there hadn't been those decades that they hadn't performed it. You liked how they gave themselves to the process, even if it was just a rehearsal. They were in simple t-shirts and Matt was proudly wearing pineapple shorts, but you could swear, a real concert was unfolding right in front of you.
When Alex started singing you tried to hide the goosebumps as best as you could, but it hardly worked out well. His voice flowed melodically, not betraying a hint of wheezing or breaking, which could arise due to the age. He closed his eyes, tightly gripping the microphone stand, and moved his feet to the beat, slightly ridiculous, but at the same time gracefully. Throughout the song, you didn’t take your eyes off the group for a minute, sometimes singing along to the words, pulling the last syllable of
Coax me out my law
And have a spin of my propeller
When the song ended, you clapped and Nick even made a mock bow.
“I don’t know how objective my assessment will be, because apart from the words of delight I have nothing to add” you honestly admitted. It seemed to you that you heard Alex's quiet "As I said", but Matt was quick to interrupt him asking you "Actually, we have already decided to play it in Bristol, but the question is where to chip in. We'll definitely not start with this one, and the outro is already completed, so..."
You thought a little, trying to understand what motives My Propeller reminds you of, and then the penny dropped.
"Pretty Visitors!" you exclaimed louder than you should have because your words echoed through the silent studio.
"Smooth interlude from Pretty Visitors, yeah, not bad actually" Alex quickly developed your idea, turning to Matt, as if asking "Do you mind?", but the drummer only closed his eyes approvingly. It seemed that they didn't need any words at all, they could understand each other with guitar riffs and drum brakes. Their connection, it was amazing, honed to automatism for past 20 years. They were like scientists in a chemistry lab mixing potions together in an attempt to make a new elixir. It was magic to come true and watching this process was so intimate that you involuntarily felt the heat on your cheeks, as if you were engaged in voyeurism.
***
The hours in the studio flew by. Fortunately for you, the guys decided to surprise fans with the return of Mardy Bum which will be the opener. The exact setlist for Bristol was confirmed at the end of the rehearsal, bringing back Teddy Picker and The View From The Afternoon as well. So looking at the perfect 21 songs, you could only imagine what they would save for London. Originally you were going to visit their concert in your hometown, you bought tickets as soon as sales were announced, but after James's call you easily gave the ticket to a friend, saying that you had won a jackpot.
Tom and Tyler have already left and the five of you are left. You were sitting on a soft chair, moved from the corner of the room, and the guys opposite on the sofas. The boys had laid down their guitars and you were leding a peaceful conversation about life, since the studio rental time ended only in an hour. You told them about your career in the industry, Maneskin and the part time projects you've been working on lately, omitting the details of your divorce because you thought it was too early for them to immerse themselves in such personal aspects of your life.
"By the way, Vic is your big fan and Alex in particular" you giggled, remembering the way drunk Maneskin bassist told you that she would like to sleep with Turner. Those were the carefree times of your youth you warmly remembered.
"Really?" Matt raised his eyebrows as he sipped his seemingly endless bottle of cider "You still have their contacts, right?"
"Yeah, sure, we even text each other occasionally" you quipped.
"And you didn't say you were working with us?" Heldres was surprised.
"Actually, somehow it didn't seem possible" you lowered your gaze, "I mean what would it look like? "Hey guys, look who's here, I now manage the Monkeys btw?" - so what?"
You could tell by the Cheshire smile on Matt's bristly face that this was exactly how he thought.
"Oh no, Matthew, don't you-"
"Oh yes, darling, dial FaceTime, you'll show them our doll" the man neighed, turning to Alex, who had been sitting quietly on the couch until this moment, and fidgeted in place after the suggestion.
"For God's sake, Matt, what a kindergarten behavior" the vocalist howled irritably, rolling his eyes, "I don't even remember their names".
The idea of making fun of Turner a little for the morning case with the box and taking revenge seemed to you unexpectedly delightful. Your hand automatically sank into your pants pocket, deftly pulling it out into the light and finding the right WhatsApp chat.
"Don't worry, you just have to say hi to Vic, I'm sure you'll be fine" you sang sweetly, glancing slyly at Matt, who chuckled approvingly, glad that you supported his idea.
Alex only cursed at this and ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it. Either from nerves, or putting his hair in order before the call.
You moved from your seat to the couch between Alex and Matt, gesturing for Nick and Jamie to join. You put your hand in front of you so only your face was visible in the camera frame, waiting for one of the guys to take the call. It might have been a little ill-advised to call like this without warning on a workday evening, but anyway it was already too late, as the beeps trailed in a string of sounds. You hoped that they didn't have a concert today, in any other case, one of them would definitely pick up the phone from you. And by a happy coincidence, it was Vic who ended up on your screen.
"What the hell, Miss Boogie, are you really occasionally calling after all this time of silence?" despite Victoria de Angelis's accusatory words, she sounded playful. She was a little disheveled and with a bright blush on her face. People were walking randomly with the string interruptions in the background. Apparently, the guys were at the soundcheck at one of the venues, and Vic recently finished playing.
Four pairs of eyes openly stared at you with undisguised interest after hearing the nickname, demanding an answer, but you just mouthed "later".
"Awww, sweetheart, and I'm happy to hear you again too!" you said with an ironic smile.
"I have a lot of news for you, and I will definitely call you in private soon"
"Are you not alone? Who's with you?" the girl even moved closer to the camera in an attempt to see something.
"Well, I have a little surprise for you. Actually four surprises, but one of them you'll find really special" you said conspiratorially, looking around at the guys who were still out of the picture. Alex sat to your right, trying to portray the most distant look, as if everything that was happening was nothing more than baby talk for him.
"Darling, if you have a group orgy without me, then I will be offended and drop the call" the bassist said threateningly, wiping her forehead with a towel that was hung on her shoulder.
You just burst out laughing "Ok ok, I'm not languishing you anymore. I hope you're ready. Boys, say hi to Vics" and you finally moved the camera further so that Matt, Nick and Jamie, who were sitting to your left, got into the camera frame, Alex's appearance you saved for a dessert.
The musician's reaction exceeded all your expectations. At first she narrowed her eyes, bringing the phone even closer to face, and then she widened them with a loud squeal, jumping up from her seat.
"What the hell, Y/N! What the actual fuck, you're a shitty mutherfucker!!!" she covered her mouth with her hand, chaotically moving the phone in different directions. Apparently, other members of the group came running to her scream, as you heard the voice of Damiano asking what happened.
"What happened?" she repeated "The fucking Arctic Monkeys are sitting next to Y/N!" answering a question off-camera and stabilizing the phone. Now you could clearly see the vocalist leaning over her shoulder, Thomas to the side and Ethan slightly behind.
Finally, the men next to you decided to introduce themselves "Hey, guys, what's new?" Matt said smiling to the camera, Jamie and Nick just waved their hands in a friendly manner.
"Oh my God, what's going on" Vic, still dumbfounded, spoke with a face of complete amazement. Damiano, who quickly figured out the whole situation and realized that Vic was unlikely to be able to communicate normally now, carefully took the phone from her hands.
"Hi, Y/N, long time no see! Hi, boys, how fresh you are" the frontman winked. The words "for your age" were suggested mutely, but David left them behind the scenes. The men next to you just laughed quietly at this remark and saluted the Italian boy.
"Vic, that's not all yet, look who's next to me" wanting to finally finish off your friend, you moved the camera to the side, revealing Alex's presence, who was already sitting with a polite smile on his face, leaning on the sofa armrest.
"Hi, love" Turner murmured hoarsely, turning on his usual charisma. You were surprised how quickly he went from "fuck off everyone" to his stage persona. Indeed, a skill acquired over the years.
De Angelis, after looking at the camera for just a second, squealed even harder than the first time, which you even grimaced a little, because in a quiet studio it sounded deafening.
The camera was still held by Damiano, but the girl in the frame could be seen doubled over, holding back cries of happiness. Her guys just laughed out loud at this, knowing full well what a strong fan of Alex she was.
"Y/N, I'm going to fucking kill you, I'll strap your ass so you can't sit still for another week, what are you doing to me?" Vic didn't let go of expressions, which made the men next to you shamelessly laugh, even Turner smiled predatoryly.
"Holy shit, you're real" the girl muttered in one breath.
Her adoration entertained Alex. Celebrities fangirling celebrities wasn't an unknown story for Alex, so the way Vic behaved didn't annoy him, but brought a feeling of sincere pleasure from what was happening.
"It would be strange if I wasn't, mhm?" the man grunted, changing the position - now he rested elbows on his knees, bringing the face closer to your phone. You could smell his light apple scent from the cider you both drank and the cigarette halo that soaked into all of the frontman's clothes.
Damiano finally decided to take control over the situation by turning the camera completely on himself.
"So, Y/N, if you wanted to surprise Vic, then you succeeded 100%! But we are now at soundcheck, and we don't have much time, and she" nodding towards the bassist "still needs to be brought to her senses. We were extremely happy to hear from you, babe. Call us when you are free and tell us everything in detail. Miss you very much!"
"Guys, me too! Love ya, see you at Glasto!"
"Wait! Take a screenshot!" Vic's desperate exclamation came from Damiano's left side.
He made a focused face, looking for the right buttons, while you and the men simultaneously smiled at the camera.
"Send it to the chat" you asked, ending the call and blowing a virtual kiss. You obviously cut off Vic's "I love you" without being entirely sure it was addressed to you.
The studio immediately froze in deafening silence. You put your phone down on the coffee table, still smiling.
"That was a real buzz, they're cute" Matt said leaning back on the couch. The mood of the guys clearly improved by this little conversation. You were glad that you could somehow diversify their evening after a productive and exhausting day. Even Alex stopped keeping his always compressed lips and frowning eyebrows.
"So, Miss Boogie, right?" Jamie began slyly, reminding you of your infamous nickname.
An approving "ooooo" reverberated around the room, from which you hid behind your palms.
"Damn, I was hoping you'd forget" you muttered from your hiding place.
"C'mon, we're intrigued already" Nick reached out to you through Matt, gently taking your hands away from your face.
Jamie suddenly started chanting your name, encouraging you to reveal this terrible secret, and Matt whistled as if Sheffield FC had just scored a goal.
"God, okay, just shut up please" you gave up.
The four men took more comfortable positions in anticipation of your story.
"In fact, there is nothing special in this story, it's just stupid. When Maneskin was approved for Eurovision, we went to celebrate, how can we not. It was in Milan. We got very drunk in a bar and went for a walk around the city. It was about 3 in the morning, and to entertain ourselves we played Truth or Dare. The most banal thing that could be, but nothing better came to mind. And I chose Dare, 'cause everyone else only cowardly told their secrets. So Vic asked me to dance for a minute on the street to any song that a passerby would name. Well, since at such time you are unlikely to meet any adequate passerby, we only found a beggar in the square. I don’t know how old he was, but the first song that he remembered was Boogie Wonderland" at this point you made a dramatic pause, "so yes, I had to dance to this song at night in front of other poor people who came up to us. Since then they call me Miss Boogie. Everyone is satisfied now, having fun, huh?"
You intentionally crossed your arms in insult, surreptitiously watching the laughing band.
"I bet there's a video" Matt said cheekily.
"Yes, there is, but you'll never see it!" you retorted quickly, glaring at the drummer.
"Your hot cheeks make me want to see this video even more" Nick teased tapping Matt on the shoulder.
"You know what," Alex suddenly announced, "choose any song you want. We play it, and you show the video"
You could swear your jaw was somewhere on the floor.
"Woah, did you decide to go all-in?" Matt asked, also not expecting such a generous offer "Be careful, otherwise you will have to play a Taylor Swift song"
"Ouch, why do you think I like her?"
"Who doesn't like her?"
"Your truth" you nodded approvingly.
"I meant our song. We'll perform it at the concert" Turner interrupted your dialogue, looking at you testily from under his eyelashes.
There was a slight silence, which you broke with a heavy sigh.
"Wow, okay, this is getting interesting" you muttered, leaning back on the couch like Helders had done earlier. The three men to your left looked at each other in surprise, waiting for an answer, while you've been thinking, looking at the frontman.
"Certain Romance," you easily stated, "I want this one"
"Your wish is my command, Miss Boogie," he joked without any hint of smile, standing up "you guys remember how to play it, don't you?"
The guys looked at each other dumbfounded, unable to find words for such a drastic change in the behavior of the vocalist, but after a discordant series of affirmative nods, they received a condescending smile from him.
"Well, that's great, there's still time to rehearse. I propose Sheffield!" Alex said solemnly, thrusting his hands into the pockets.
"Al, ru ok?" Matt raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
"All right, man" Turner said artificially.
"This house is a circus indeed" swirled through your head. Alex's behavior was defiant. Emerging into conflict. Literally a minute ago everything was peace and quiet, and now he, like a proud peacock, was arranging a show for you at the level of a cheap soap opera.
"No, but seriously, let's even organize a lottery, since Y/N has such an influence on the setlist" Alex didn't let up.
"Come on, pipe down, you suggested it yourself" Nick intervened carefully, not wanting to stir up the smoldering coals of the conflict.
"And I think all of you are into this idea, aren't you?" Turner didn't raise his low, heavily accented baritone, but the underlying toxicity in his tone was evident, "oh, even better, let's ask our Italian friends for advice! Let's get their opinion and her video as well".
"Alexander, smoke?" you stood up decisively from the couch, grabbing your purse and phlegmatically glancing at the wooden cider box you'd probably have to leave in the studio. But you couldn’t leave the guys in such an atmosphere, so out of courtesy you promised to return again.
"Y/N, no problem, see you before Bristol! Send the screen to our group, 'cause I'm getting jealous for these Italians" Matt gave you an encouraging wink in the end, and you certainly promised to do it tonight.
"They'll kill each other"
"He doesn't stand a chance"
Jamie and Matt said at the same time as the door closed behind you.
Alex imposingly walked ahead, not hurrying anywhere. He politely said goodbye to the security guard, noting that the rental period had already come to an end. Almost bowing, he opened the door to the street for you, artificially gallantly holding it with his hand, still making a show from every gesture, which for some reason made you feel disgusted. You were counting on working with middle-aged men, accomplished musicians, but it feels like you are talking to teenagers.
Damp cold air from the river hit your red cheeks, which made you wrap yourself in a jacket more tightly. Alex took out a pack of Marlboro, offering you one, but nodding to himself, removed it, remembering your words a week ago practically at the same place.
"Well?" he said with a cigarette in his mouth, lighting the filter.
The sky was overcast with a milky haze of fog, which wasn't uncommon for these places, a weak wind was blowing, but not a single sound from the road was heard, which made you hear sparks from ignited tobacco hiss like champagne bubbles, falling on the asphalt.
Alex exhaled noisily, squinting at you with his eyes. His face was faintly lit by the flame of a cigarette, but even in such low light, it was noticeable that his gaze was completely blank. "Amazingly indifferent and deep eyes at the same time. It's impossible to tell anything from them" you thought. Or maybe he was like this only with unpleasant people to him, who you apparently were. You can’t even imagine the way these eyes changed on stage "Where are you real, Alexander?". But instead of asking this, you just threw your head back, tiredly closing your eyelids, showing with your whole appearance how absurd the situation is.
"Alex," there wasn't any visible point to call him Mr. Turner even though you were annoyed "I thought we made a deal, didn't we?"
"Really? When?" his voice sounded even more affected than in the studio, despite the fact that now the man spoke rather quietly and slowly. Or maybe even a whisper would be loud in this ringing silence.
"I just don't understand what the problem is" you continued, as if you didn't hear his words.
"I don't see it either, Miss Y/S"
You raised your eyebrows high as you asked a silent question, which made Alex smirk slightly. Taking a puff, he began to explain to you with the intonation of a parent teaching a child not to put his fingers in the socket.
"Listen, I won't hide it, you brought some chaos to our tour. This is different from your direct duties though - to solve all the problems on our way. But you're a stranger who stirred up our peace and foundation. I was initially against this idea, but James left me no choice. You are undoubtedly an educated young lady, and probably from a moral point of view, I sound like a scoundrel now-"
"You sound unprofessional, Alex. You only make me feel contempt, and I don't care about any moral side"
The frontman looked at you from under his brows, taking out a second cigarette in a row from the pack, waiting for a further reaction, but inside you was a frozen magma that didn't want to break out, muffled by self-esteem. For now.
His words contradicted his behavior. In the morning he carries your boxes and asks for a song advice, and in the evening he gives out this shit. If women's logic is ridiculed by society, then men do not have it at all.
“You know what, when James offered me this job, I was damn excited and proud that I would be working with a team like yours. I was on a cloud nine. But you, Alex, you're just a spoiled boy in the body of a 37-year-old man who hasn't overplayed his ambitions and thinks that his subtle nature is so fragile to understand that you need to hide behind the facade of an asshole so that normal people with good intentions don't crawl into your soul. You are cowardly and arrogant!"
You were breathing heavily, and the words "fool fool fool" stretched on repeat in a red line behind your eyes.
You didn't even understand how they escaped from your lips, absolutely thoughtlessly. You even instinctively wanted to raise a hand to cover your mouth, but pulled yourself back in time, deciding to play to the end. Show after show.
Alex hadn't raised a cigarette to his face during your tirade, so that the wick was almost dead in his fingers. You intensively looked at each other without stopping, and at some point it seemed to you that fear flashed in his pupils. Fear of the revealed truth. However, they were covered with a thick veil of indifference to what was happening in a second, and he finally took the last puff, throwing the butt right on the road.
"Miss Y/S, it seems that you have to go" the musician said unemotionally.
You took one last burning look at his features and, without saying a word, turned around towards your car. How ironic, a week ago you left each other in roughly the same sequence of activities - studio, cider, parking lot, but under completely different circumstances.
Slamming the door shut, you sharply revved, not bothering to warm up the engine, and drove out of the parking lot with a clang of tires. Burning tears of resentment gushed from your eyes, covering the already foggy road in front, but you didn't pay attention.
Your cooperation has just begun, and you have already swept on an emotional swing. Only in the morning you were driving in a car towards the sun and rejoicing at the warm words of your dad, and in the evening you return home, wiping the salty paths with the back of your hand from your face.
You were never embarrassed by tears, you cried out almost all of them during a divorce, but if they dripped from your eyes today, then there was a reason for that. Your parents taught you that after rain there is always a rainbow, after tears there is always peace of mind, you need to be able to live through any emotions in order to turn them into your power later.
***
You haven't seen the boys since that evening until today's early departure for Bristol. Of course, you communicated on all sorts of organizational issues during this time and there was no visible tension, especially since they didn't hear about your quarrel with Alex. You were more than sure that he would not tell his friends about that incident. This is what infringes on him, and therefore makes him weaker, which he couldn't allow.
All these days you have wondered what was the reason for such a sharp behavior, however you couldn't really delve into yourself. Why exactly you were crying - from resentment, overstrain or just an emotional outburst, it was also difficult to understand. Perhaps all together. Over the past month, from your first conversation with Ford to recent events, your life has changed 180 degrees, so it's no surprise that your psyche gave a little glitch.
You've comforted yourself with routines though — setting Grapes up with a friend until your next visit to London, inviting your parents over for dinner to tell you all the details, packing your suitcase for the tour, checking out all the technical stuff, and almost forgetting what kind of adventure you're packing for.
And now, without any idea of the nearest future, you were sitting in a black Mercedes Sprinter between Marcus and James Kerr, Ben was in the passenger seat in front, Steven was riding with the group in the bus. It was only 8 am, you were sleepy, only at the last moment you didn’t forget to remove eye patches before going out, you didn’t even put on makeup, so you sat in the wide sunglasses, even though the sun wasn't visible through the tinted windows of the car.
It seemed that everyone was relaxed, easily communicated with each other and knew exactly what each would do upon arrival at the venue. Unlike you. The schedule was pretty clear - check-in at the hotel, lunch, departure for the soundcheck and then free time for the management and the band, but very busy time for the technicians. Of all this, the most sensible thing was to drink plenty of wine at dinner and walk around the rest of the day in a relaxed state of mind, but those were only pitiful thoughts of creeping fear. Deep inside you were sure that everything would be fine, it couldn’t be otherwise, because even if you didn’t know how to do this or that task, the guys knew their duties, and they physically couldn’t play the concert badly.
"Hey, Y/N, you kinda took working with us too seriously" Marcus snapped you out of your thoughts with his mocking tone.
"I'm sorry, what?" you asked, turning to him.
He touched the bridge of his nose with his index finger and chuckled. It took you another couple of seconds to figure out what he meant, so he took advantage of your confusion to explain "you now going to wear glasses in the dark as well?"
The reference to Alex was read transparently, so you imperceptibly flinched and pointedly removed them, as if not wanting to be associated with him at all.
"No, no, I just didn't have time to do my make up" you honestly admitted, shrugging your shoulders ingenuously.
"Oh, I'm sorry, we-" the guy looked around at all the passengers, "we don't understand this here"
You laughed slightly, at the same time relaxing, and asked him a question that had been of interest to you for a long time.
"Why don't you have women in the team? I mean at all"
Instead of Marcus, Ben decided to answer from the front seat, apparently as the eldest among you.
“It didn’t happen on purpose, but later it became kind of unspoken rule. We are here like on the fishing, you know? We leave our wives, spend time within our male company, it’s like an alternative branch of your life, you do quality work here, you feel needed, while no one owe you nothing and you feel absolutely free in your actions, understanding thoroughly those who are around you"
"Are you aware that this is how a normal team should work, regardless of gender? It sounds somehow sexist. Am I really embarrassing you in actions?" you smiled slyly, anticipating the denouement.
"Actually, besides you, we have 3 other women in the team.." Marcus embarrassingly chipped in.
"Guys, don't bother yourself with excuses, I knew who I was messing with" you laughed, crossing your legs. Marcus looked at you dumbfounded, but said nothing, and James just chuckled softly at the window.
"Well, if you knew that, then you also should know about our tradition, right, guys?" Ben began in a conspiratorial tone, exchanging glances with the guys.
"Um, about what?" you arched an eyebrow in disbelief.
"The newbie is signed up for the after-party. Tonight is your first concert, and after that we go to the bar, the drinks are off you! We're equal here" Ben imperturbably continued to scan your reaction with a fox-eye, waiting for an answer. It's not that you're greedy or unable to pay, but to buy drinks for the whole team...
And as if ahead of your question, the man added "enough management and the band".
As if it changed the essence. But you couldn't refuse, so you mumbled something affirmative, getting a roar of male hoarse laughter in response, and starting to laugh at yourself. You appreciated in people, especially males, this ability - to make a woman laugh. In a time of constant change and stress, finding someone who will make you forget about it was very important.
The rest of the road was spent in the same good mood, and these conversations did help you to forget about your anxiety due to upcoming events. Upon arrival, all the management team and the band settled in the hotel. As James promise, you've been given a private suite overlooking the most beautiful park in the city center. But due to an unknown coincidence, you lived not on the same floor with the attendants, but through the door from the group.
Matt carried your things to your room and you agreed to meet for lunch in 20 minutes.
Since you were able to miraculously did a make up even in the car, thanks to the sensitive driving, now you decided to change into more presentable clothes in which you will be at the concert.
Without changing the habit of choosing clothes carefully and for a long time, you took off your hot sweatshirt, remaining in only sweatpants and starting to go through the whole suitcase in search of those things that would match your mood. You had a couple of looks planned, but today's unexpectedly warm weather changed your plans a little, so you confidently took out a black leather skirt and a white blouse.
A piece of matter fit all your forms perfectly, so you were satisfied with the choice, spinning in front of the mirror by the bed. The black bodice harmonized perfectly with the skirt, and the crazy idea of staying only in it, without putting on anything, flashed through your head like a bullet, but flew out just as quickly as soon as you heard the muffled thud of heels on the carpet outside the door and a muttered "Jamie?" at your door followed by a knock. You hysterically shouted "No!" exactly at the moment when the door opened without a click.
"Shit, Y/N!" Alex, not having time to properly enter your room, but having clearly noticed you in a compromising way, abruptly recoiled, remaining in the corridor, but not completely closing the door so that he could hear you, but not see.
"God! What a mess" you pleaded, rushing to the door. You stuck out only your head, meeting the eyes of the musician, who was discomposedly staring at you point-blank.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Why are you naked?"
You asked at the same time, shouting over each other.
"This is my room! And I'm not naked!"
"Where's Jamie? I thought he was at 312" Turner asked, a little bewildered, clearly embarrassed.
"I have no idea where Jamie is. How did you even get in?" you were still half-dressed, hiding most of your body behind a wooden door.
"I knocked, but it turned out that it was not slammed at all"
"What the fuck? Maybe Matt didn't close when he left," you muttered more to yourself. You clearly saw the question “What did Matt do here?” that arose in Alex’s head, but which he never voiced. Clearly realizing that the dialogue could not be continued in this form, you abruptly switched the subject, trying to tear his eyes from your neck.
"I was changing for dinner anyway, so see you there" you sharply slammed the door in front of him, not wanting to go into details, and tiredly leaned your head against the wooden surface from the inside.
"Crazy" you heard quiet along with receding soft steps.
It was your only meaningful conversation with the singer, since that evening. You understood that it couldn’t go on like this for a long time, but at the moment you didn’t have any ideas how to fix the situation. So you just finally put on the look you chose, after checking that the door was locked, then decided to add a black headband, and being satisfied with your appearance, went downstairs.
After lunch, the whole team went to the stadium, where the technicians had already set up half of the equipment. The guys immediately went to the sound check, and you and Steven went to meet Ashton Gate management. It seemed like there was still plenty of time before the concert, and you thought you would have a few more chances to double-check everything, but in the turmoil that was going on behind the scenes, this turned out to be impossible.
To be honest, you were overwhelmed by what was happening. The soft music, people around, the sun rays moving towards the sunset - this whole scene that was unfolding before you as you unexpectedly stepped onto the empty stage a few minutes before the crowd was let into the stadium looked surreal and incredibly familiar, as if you had been here many times before. The noise and chaos behind you contrasted with the tranquility in front of your eyes. The empty space that was about to be filled with a crowd in just a few minutes brought both excitement and serenity. These were the moments that seemed unreal, but made life worth living.
***
The show was about to start, and you stood next to the dark staircase, where the guys from the dressing room were soon to come up. Leaning on the railing, you nervously twirled a lock of hair around your finger. You went through all the items on the checklist in your head, checking off each one mentally, but something still bothered you.
Alex.
Your unfinished conversations and evasive behavior were weighing on you. You felt guilty, knowing that as his manager, you had behaved tactlessly, driven by emotions. It ate at you from the inside. You decided that you would talk to him today, apologize and put this issue to rest once and for all.
Suddenly you noticed a flickering light from the security, which meant that the group is entering the stage, and you turned sharply, both wanting and fearing to see them. As always, looking luxurious, these four men made their way up to the platform, remaining unnoticed by the audience.
"Good luck, guys! I'm buzzing as hell honestly" you tried to sound confident, but your voice trembled on the last word.
"Miss Y/S, is it just me or are you worried about us?" Nick lightly touched your shoulder in a reassuring gesture.
"Well, it's my first time with you" realizing how ambiguous that sounded, you interrupted yourself with a laugh.
"Oh, you'll love it, babe" Matt mimicked a voice from a cheap adult movie, tossing a stick in the air. It seemed like he could find the right words in any situation, and in the future, you would highly appreciate this skill.
All this time, you were glancing at Alex out of the corner of your eye, trying to read his emotions, but he calmly adjusted the folds on his unchanging dark blue jacket and stretched his neck with turns left and right. Seeing that the guys had moved a little away from you, you looked at your watch, estimating that you had 5 minutes maximum, and whispered to yourself "now or never".
"Alex!" you called him out loudly, trying to outshout the crowd "I wanted to talk, I know it's not the most appropriate time, but-"
"Y/N, forgive me, okay," the man unexpectedly began, barely approaching you. For the first time, you saw genuine excitement in his eyes, here, in the darkness of the backstage area of a 30,000-seat stadium. For some reason, only now you clearly feel the difference in height between you two. He looked down at you patronizingly. Maybe it was because of his heels or the knot of nerves in your stomach that made you feel so small in your attempt to hide from his penetrating gaze.
"I've been a complete jerk and acted childish from the very beginning. You didn't do anything to deserve such treatment. I don't want our tension to affect the group and our work in any way, so I admit my guilt"
You stood in shock, slightly opening your mouth. You absolutely did not expect such a turn of events, so your entire improvised speech evaporated from your mind instantly. He suddenly smiled softly, raising an eyebrow, as if asking 'well, what now?' Still not believing what you heard, you nodded your head almost automatically.
"Y-yes, you were a jerk indeed. But I also didn't behave entirely correctly, my first impression wasn't great either," you sighed in frustration, recalling your memories, "I suggest we start over, huh? Hi, my name is Y/N, I'm your new tour manager, nice to meet you" and to confirm your words, you gracefully extended your hand to him.
"Nice to meet you too, I'm Alex Turner, sort of singing here," he shook your hand with an energetic movement. His palm was dry and steady, causing a pleasant warmth throughout your body, "just business then?"
"Just business indeed. And a little bit of music" you said, more relaxed, smiling with all 32 teeth, still holding onto his hand.
"Deal, Miss Y/S"
For a moment, the roar of fans faded away for you, and you only saw the outlines of his pupils in the semi-darkness and his fingers firmly holding yours. However, your fragile moment was promptly ruined by-
"Al, c'mon!" Jamie impatiently called, and your hand felt the gusts of wind instead of calloused skin of the frontman. You watched him walk away in his waddle manner, as he suddenly turned and shouted, winking "By the way, nice lace".
It took you a couple of seconds to understand what was said, and when the meaning of his words reached you, you exclaimed in indignation "You, motherfucker!" almost stomping your foot, but your cry was lost in the wild roar of the crowd, as the guys were already on stage.
It was a miraculous sight. Four men made people go into ecstasy just with their appearance - this is the phenomenon of the Beatles, and they were proof that rock and roll is alive. As long as they are alive. Every strum on the guitar strings, every touch of the lips to the microphone, every drumstick strike, every hair flip was special in their performance, they themselves were special.
You were fascinated, to say the least. When the performance came to the last song before the encore, Body Paint, one of your favorite songs from the album, that was definitely made to be played live, you were out of words. The whole song built you up to the climax, to the outro that every time was a pure jamming and improvisation. And you literally exploded in ecstasy when Alex started walking around the stage, unable to stand still from the knocking down energy. He closed his eyes in languor, biting his lips, screaming, throwing out his arms, and you couldn't take your eyes off. You weren't dancing or jumping, you were inseparably watching his every movement, arms folded across your chest. Your mouth was agape against your will, and your eyes eagerly punched a hole in the frontman. This is a unique performance, it's something that is hard to explain without feeling it for yourself. You were made up of his music, you literally felt these waves inside your veins, your brain wasn't able to comprehend what was happening, it was like a catharsis for all of you. And you definitely didn't want to be saved.
Suddenly Alex turned his head to your side, continuing to play some divine riff outlining the Van Gogh fields on the guitar strings. His hair was tousled, shirt unbuttoned, but his jacket fitted perfectly. He rested his eyes on your figure, smiling with one corner of his lips, and you looked at each other for good seven seconds which felt like eternity. You were sure that everything was clear in your eyes, and even if he stood next to you and heard you, you wouldn't be able to utter a word.
What you definitely didn't expect when your eye contact was broken and Alex walked to another side of the stage, that tears would involuntarily flow from your eyes. "What the hell..." you wondered aloud, quickly removing the salty tracks from your cheeks. In fact, you perfectly understood why you were crying. From a sense of greatness. The greatness of music, human synergy and the power of unity. It was too much for you, too strong emotions to bear. It was excellent, it was the taste of life, thanks to which you still were here. "God, if you exist, bless this band, they are saints" although it sounded ridiculous and naive, you seriously were ready to pray for the talent of these guys, for the ability to make other people feel alive. You were in your place, you did everything right, you were cruising the victory. Today he convinced you.
As soon as the last chords of "RU Mine?" were played and the bows to the fans were taken, the men disappeared from the deafening roar behind the dark curtains of backstage. Their hair stuck to their sweat faces, and a distinct masculine smell was coming from their shirts. The guys passed by you with exhausted smiles, unable to utter a word from fatigue, and disappeared into the darkness of the corridors.
You didn't know what to do right now. According to your understanding, your job didn't end with pre-concert organization, there were also post-concert tasks to be done. But you were so lost in emotions that you felt like you were drifting away from an anaphylactic shock.
Unexpectedly, Tyler came to you as he was the last one to come off the stage. He fraternally put a hand on your shoulder, tousling your hair with his heavy palm.
"Well, with the initiation into our hell, sweetheart. How're you?"
"Thrilled, and I want more!" you declared confidently, matching his quick pace that was pulling you further away from the frenzy of the crowd.
"Well, don't doubt that, it's just the beginning" he charmingly smiled, and you couldn't help but mirror his expression.
"Now we're going to celebrate, and you're coming with us" it sounded so authoritative that even if you wanted to object, you immediately closed your mouth, nodding in agreement. "Besides, seems like you need to unwind" you remembered.
You left the stadium only an hour later, apparently, it was a normal time for the guys to "recover". You'd made several jokes about one woman waiting for seven men and received offended and teasing looks in return. You got into the same Mercedes you arrived in that morning, and the driver took you to one of Bristol's typical English pubs that the guys loved so much.
You didn't understand their fondness for these quaint places where the sofa upholstery hadn't changed along with the owner. There were so many modern bars in the city, any of which the band could afford to rent entirely, but they paid tribute to traditions, obviously cherishing memories of their lively youth when they started playing their first concerts in similar places. Such a return to their roots after the thousands-capacity stadiums grounded them well. And the warm nostalgia, slipping across the Guinness glasses every time, was a corner of genuine joy for the guys, the only true luxury they possessed.
And overall, you didn't care where to spend money or on what. After all today's events, which felt like a whole month, you didn't mind anymore. In the morning, you looked at your apple orchard in the early mist of suburban London, then stood half-naked in a five-star hotel room in front of a world-renowned music star, and now, in the evening, you huddled next to him on an old leather couch under a red velvet chandelier, drinking a B-52.
Glasses, shots and colorful bottles flashed in front of your eyes like a kaleidoscope. Your head was spinning from the amount of alcohol, and your cheeks hurt from laughter.
"My dear mates, I propose a toast to Miss Y/S and her first concert with us! I don't know if she understands where she has ended up, but we'll make sure she has a great time with us, right, guys? To Y/N!" Matt solemnly proclaimed, rising from the table, and 8 hands, pouring drinks onto each other, reached towards the center of the table to clink glasses.
"Guys, thank you for this opportunity, thanks to James for his unplanned vacation, thanks to Steven and Marcus-" although the latter wasn't here, you decided to thank him as he had been providing you with all kinds of help during these weeks, "for their support and adaptation, and of course, to you Monkeys, for accepting me. I do like your crazy Monkey house" you joked, but it didn't negate the truth. Despite all the past disagreements with the lead singer, you felt that you were still doing everything right. And even if you hadn't gone on this adventure today, you would still feel grateful to fate for such an opportunity to be at the center of life.
"Glad to hear that," Jamie chuckled ironically, "as they say, welcome aboard"
And with these words, you all whistled, and Tom even shouted like a saloon girl from the Wild West. Your evening, or rather the night, continued until 3 am, fortunately there was no concert the next day, so you could at least sleep in a bit. You looked in horror at the amount you had drunk, trying to estimate how long it would take to recover the contents of your wallet. But you had consumed so much gin and tonic that the only thing that really worried you was how to walk straight for at least 2 meters to the bar to pay for it all.
"Drinks on me!" you declared with a mischievous smile to the group as you headed towards the bar counter.
"What, for everyone?" Matt playfully refined.
"Well, yeah," you didn't have the energy to realize his surprise, but he also didn't have the energy to argue with you, "that's no problem".
And thus, the following events spun in your head like a foggy whirlpool. Here you were finally breathing in the fresh air of the street, tilting your head towards the purple sky, then you were half-lying on someone's shoulder in the black minivan, and finally for no reason you were walking barefoot on a soft hotel carpet, but there were no shoes in your hands as well.
You didn't have any memories of walking into your room either. But in the moment, the feeling of soft snow-white hotel sheets flooded your body with long-awaited bliss. You instantly fell into the arms of Morpheus, only on the verge of consciousness noticing that someone took off the headband from your hair, which had been squeezing your head tightly, and silently closed the door.
You may be too drunk to remember each of your actions clearly, but you definitely wouldn't mistake the familiar scent of cigarettes in the room.
---------------------------------------------------
A/N: Oh, so much has happened in one chapter, and this is just the beginning of the tour... I decided to tell the background of Y/N for a better understanding of her actions. What do you think, maybe you want more of "Italian friends" in the work? Whose line do you want to read in more detail? Share your emotions, it is incredibly valuable to me that someone reads this work actually!
xo🤍
Taglist: @missbabyjay @rentskenobi @findmeincorneliastreet @indierockgirrl here it is!
*if you want to be removed or added to the taglist, feel free to ask me!
#alex turner#arctic monkeys#am7 tour#the car era#am7 era#alex turner fanfic#matt helders#the car#alex turner fic#alex turner imagine#alex turner x you#alex turner x y/n#alex turner x reader#alex turner fanfiction#femme like you fanfic#nick o malley#jamie cook#maneskin#vic de angelis#damiano david
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victoria neuman is a WOMAN KISSER SHE KISSES WOMEN i know this for a FACT
#victoria neuman#genv#the boys#i havent even watched the boys yet#i need her so bad#my good friend mikey posted one (1) edit#and it was so over for me#i tumbled down the vic drain#also can ppl pls write neuman x reader fics i beg#i'll pay you....but in cash...
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How to Endure Ardor:
Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader
Summary: Joel teaches you how to love him.
Rating: Explicit 18+
Content Warnings: Post outbreak; QZ Joel Miller; I'm saying this, but the setting is sort of ambiguous anyways, Stream of consciousness, Character Study, Alternating POVs; PIV sex; The troubles and toils of breaking up and then making up with a fucked up old man; Uncaring Joel; Mentions of painful sex; Toxic relationships or situationships or whatever you want to call it; I think I'm addicted to the idea of a Joel who'll never love you and I should probably see a doctor about it
A/N: she remembers how to write, who'd of thought!
Word Count: 1.3K
Read on AO3
This is a lesson:
“Tell me again,” she says, and it’s a begging.
A begging like what? Something that carries shame and smallness in the shape of it. Stay a little longer. It humiliates him for the wretchedness it pulls from him. Joel, please. Seeping blood the color of her supplication. Please, she says, please. And who else says please to him anymore? Who asks him for anything anymore but her? The only ones who ever had are long past and gone, and he can’t even barely remember they were ever really there to ask anything of him to begin with—can’t remember what it feels like to owe someone something and want to give it to them in a way that will actually make him.
Tell me what again? That I want you? That I’ll stay? That I love you? I’ll come back, he says instead, the only thing he can promise and keep. And he wonders if it humiliates her too, the way he lies, the way he runs, the way he swears, the way he always comes back and comes back but never returns with the things she needs. A humiliation just like it is a begging.
The thing they have: it’s strange, fickle, honest in its lies, very, very ugly. An ugliness that is shocking in a world gone to rot already. The sky doesn’t shine anymore and they bask in it.
But also, and, the thing they have: it’s physical, saving.
This is obvious too, even if only to them.
He slides inside and you’re what? Hot and wet and slick, and—yes, a thing like a dream, but still only a thing. Something to have, something close to desire, but not quite, more like biological want. Woman turned possession. In his mind this is an excuse, a reason, a begetting. Like, what—like what? Like when you want a thing very badly but it is very bad for you, and you need to make up any excuse to have it, lie and lie and lie—to your mother, your best friend, the mirror—a begetting like that. Easy to understand only if you’ve been there.
It started simple, it started like nothing, it started like the first time you meet someone and you know they’ll matter, you know they’ll mean something. So it started like what? Like a lie.
Shifts at the QZ, long and toiling and reminders of the sort of life that died in an outbreak of monsters, only if for how unlike that past it was. Humans or fungus or—
—men who hurt—you, men who refuse your love, Joel Miller.
The crutch of your age, of you being weaker or smaller or in need, him being easily felled, wooed, easily conquered by something young and given without a try because there was never the opportunity for trying before.
Now, it is like this: you take my cock and you take my come and you take my nothing, and I give so little and yet you still find a way to take and take and take, leech of a girl, dream of a girl, hungry. And with the excuse that it’s only in a way you contrive for your own self. But in the end, what does that make you? What do I make you into?
These are the things he asks himself.
Perhaps she goes away for a time, tries the route of escape, of variety. But when she inevitably comes back because addiction is riddled always in the same sorts of ways: did you try different bodies? Did you try different flavors and sounds? Did you look for me in all of them?
The answer is usually yes.
At reunion’s turn: he rolls her over to face her, Joel, damp and panting and trying to be something—perhaps better, more honest—after a season of variety and honest attempts and shut eyes. He’s so hard for her, always is.
Again: he slides inside and you’re what? His, undeniably. Not yours. Something to want but not desire because it’s too romantic a notion, and yes, there’s a difference even if he can’t put into words what that difference specifically is. Body and heart, perhaps, definitions that differ between disparate anatomical parts or levels of deniability.
Nothing either of you have ever been able to put into words when lust and love aren’t things you can even say out loud for the shame of them, even if they exist within said same anatomy.
You come together, the season passed, the separation passed but still kept at hand for the next time the closeness becomes too much.
“Tell me again,” she says, and this time he remembers what she’s asking for.
“I fucking missed you, baby. Missed this pussy.” Because he can’t say it’s her heart he missed. Because Joel Miller does not have honesty in his arsenal.
He spreads you wide, knee to shoulder so it hurts and pulls, so it’ll be sore and reminding tomorrow. The slap of his pelvis against the back of your thighs is obscene, wet and lewd, a string of girl cum keeping you connected, such togetherness, curve of your ass to the root of his cock—the two of you are together again.
You know what I thought, when I tried to go away, you say. He doesn’t want to know, but he doesn't tell you so either, only slides in again, the mouth of your womb right there, threatening. I’m never going to feel like this again, and I hate how certainly I know that. He wonders if the unsaid part is that he’s the recipient of that feeling, the hate.
He wonders if the pinch inside him is hurt. He wonders if the throb is love.
All he says because he can’t say the rest is, I missed you, I missed you, and if he could look himself in the mirror—something that’s twenty years past lost—he’d ask: are you alright? Just tell me you’re okay. And it sounds in your own voice and with your own care and the feel of your own warmth. Is there anything I can do?
Other times, he sees himself through your own eyes, and then he knows for certain that the throb is love
So he makes up for lost time, hard—and if it was a thing he knew how to be— loving. Mouth to cunt first, primed and soft and begging, making you come again and then another once more, then inside of you. Slow, splitting you open, red cunt like a wound, balls slapping wet, pulling out to watch the gape of the space he’s carved for himself. His cock is so hard and missing you something desperate. And he’s reminded of what it is to really miss something in a way he hadn’t been in twenty years of apocalypse, he’s forced to realized that it’s been so long since he’d had something to love that he’d not realized the feeling of missing that long past someone had gone away, only faint memory remained.
Violent, is what this makes him after that realization—thrusts turning hard and punishing. How dare you give yourself to me? How dare you then take yourself away? You come around him again, the gift of your orgasm. How dare you not be able to accept the little I’m able to give when I’m trying so desperately fucking hard to give you even just this?
He fucks you mean, he fucks you in the way of a man who doesnt know how to say the things he needs to say, in a way that’s confusing, that could make a less discerning woman feel only the hurt.
But then again, you know him.
Fucks you in a way that is a little bit like love.
And so, amidst all of it, there is an honesty amongst the lies. A truth unspoken that they both know—I’ll come back because I need you, because you’re the only one who can give me the things I'm not strong enough to ask for out loud.
You’re not sure which of the two of you is the one saying it.
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Say you'll see me again even if it's just in your wildest dreams
Pairings: Vic De Angelis xfem!reader
Contents: Fluff, SMUT
Summary: You're an up-and-coming actress, and Vic's best friend since high school. You have been friends and in love with each other for as long as you can remember. So when you have the chance to be together, it's magical.
Words: ~2276
A/N: Firstly, English isn't my native language, so pleeease forgive me if you come across any errors while reading. It's my first fanfiction, but I've planned it so so so much and I sincerely hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it!
"Well, she is..." A torrent of reminiscences flooded your mind, evoking memories of your youthful days, your time together in high school, and the challenging battles you fought to progress in your careers, always finding each other and nurturing your affection whenever circumstances permitted. "the love of my life."
In that poignant moment, it felt as though the air itself froze in your lungs, while a profound chill coursed through your entire being, setting your stomach aflutter.
"So, enlighten us on the factors contributing to your current state of not being together," the interviewer probed.
"We're constantly in each other's company, you know, whenever we can orchestrate it," you responded with a chuckle. "We're currently living the pinnacle of our lives, I mean, career-wise, you know? Måneskin is rocking it worldwide and I've got a TV series and two movies in the pipeline. It's quite a juggling act. Therefore, we're doing our utmost, just going with the flow."
You and the journalist continued to engage in lively discussions covering various topics, including your professional journey and the prospects of your upcoming projects. However, it was the part about your personal life that made you the most jittery. You had openly professed your love for Victoria in an interview for one of the biggest magazines in the world. Not that you both had never expressed your feelings for each other before, but this was different.
"What is the projected publication date for the article?" you inquired of the journalist.
"In a fortnight. Why do you ask? Regretting any of your statements?" she inquired, with a touch of suspicion yet clandestinely relishing the notion of your potential regret.
"Oh, not in the slightest," you responded, chuckling. "Simply curious."
🎸
"Guess who's rocking the cover of Rolling Stone!" your publicist burst into the dressing room, where you were getting ready for a TV show.
"Finally!" You widened your eyes and asked for a moment to quickly skim through the article. Of all the topics discussed, the focal point inevitably became your heartfelt declaration of love for Victoria, as though you had never before professed your love to her.
As you read snippets of the article, your phone rang, and a snapshot of you and Vic materialized with her name.
"Ciao cuore mio," you enthusiastically answered the call.
"So, am I really the love of your life?" Vic responded, her smile palpable.
"Did you read the magazine? I forewarned you, they would exploit it shamelessly, akin to treasure seekers lusting after gold."
"I only read the parts that piqued my interest, obviously. You look absolutely hot in the photoshoot they did. I want a poster of each of those pictures to plaster on the ceiling of every hotel I stay at during our tour." You struggle to contain your laughter, but it's futile.
You both shared a laugh for a moment. You needed to get back to doing your makeup, but hearing Victoria's voice was so invigorating. You missed her immensely.
"I wanna see you. It's been far too long since our last encounter, I can't bear it any longer," Victoria whispered the final sentence, sending shivers down your spine.
You were aware that the band was in the midst of their tour, so if you didn't go to meet her, you wouldn't be able to see each other.
"I have a recording session today, but I'm available all weekend. Where will you be?"
"Hmmm, we'll be passing through Germany. We have a concert in Berlin today and another in Cologne tomorrow. I'll have Sunday free. Fancy a little adventure around Germany?"
"Only if I have a backstage pass for the concert in Cologne."
"You always do, Y/N," Victoria replied confidently.
"Deal, now I have to go, I'm running terribly late. See you there."
🎸
At 7pm, you strolled into the dressing room accompanied by the security guards. Vic, Thomas and Ethan were gathered in a room adorned with an array of intriguing items, and serendipitously, you entered just as Victoria enveloped Thomas from behind, insinuating an intimate encounter. The vibrant energy exuded in that moment reignited a sense of belonging within you.
"I can't believe I made it to this amazing gathering!" You exclaim boisterously, bursting into laughter.
"Now the Måneskin is complete!" Thomas bellows, thrusting his hands into the air as he approaches to embrace you.
"Mia cara amica Y/N, I saved some slices of pizza for you," Ethan chimes in, hugging you while holding his drumsticks.
Damiano appears, shouting something incomprehensible, and in an instant, you find yourself on his shoulders.
"She's the love of my life," Damiano exclaims, mimicking your voice and bursting into laughter. "I've loved her ever since I grasped the true meaning of love. So much love for her!"
You close your eyes and burst into laughter as Damiano playfully mocks you, creating a nostalgic atmosphere where you all feel like carefree teenagers once again.
Suddenly, Victoria appears, perched atop Ethan's shoulders, mirroring your playful stance. You lock eyes, and in that moment, the world seems to stand still, leaving only the two of you. Having been apart for several months, every reunion is an explosion of emotions. One particular phrase she shared with you after a year-long separation still resonates: "I wanna swim between your thighs” Not long after that, Victoria confessed that, inspired by the night you spent together, she wrote "For Your Love" in just 20 minutes.
Your train of thought was abruptly halted when Damiano playfully released you, allowing Victoria to seize your face with both hands. With a glimmer of excitement in her eyes, she examined your features before planting a passionate kiss on your lips.
Regrettably, the kiss was short-lived, as they needed to take the stage. You accompanied them backstage, assisting Damiano and Thomas with their attire. When you approached Victoria to lend a hand, she awaited you with a radiant smile.
"I promise, once we're finished, I'll be completely devoted to you," she pledged, punctuating her words with one final kiss before donning her blazer.
"Oh, baby, rest assured, I'll be right here, hungrily devouring every captivating moment of the concert, my desires ignited by your mesmerizing performance."
"Mmm, I can feel the exhilaration coursing through my veins, knowing that this time, those deliciously naughty cravings will surpass your wildest imagination and materialize into an intoxicating reality."
She gave you a mischievous grin and, before turning towards the stage, playfully blew you an air kiss.
The concert was absolutely mind-blowing. The four of them were rocking it harder than ever, and your heart swelled with pride, having been there since their very first dream of starting a band and supporting them through every phase. Whenever Victoria had a chance to come backstage, she would shower you with passionate kisses, leaving you breathless.
By the end of the concert, they were buzzing with energy.
"You guys were fucking amazing!! I love you so much, I missed you!"
"We missed you too!" Ethan shouted over the roaring crowd, and Thomas nodded in agreement.
"Now that you're a big-shot actress, it's rare to see you tagging along to concerts with us," teased Damiano, laughing and tousling his hair. "But enough with this drama, I know you and Victoria are burning up inside. So go on, go head to the hotel and have a blast!"
"Next time, I'll bring Giorgia along so you won't be bored out of your mind, alright?"
We were teasing each other while Victoria changed outfits, and when she emerged in a different ensemble from the one she wore on stage, you, Damiano, and Thomas attempted to mimic a challenging dance move Thomas had seen on TikTok. Ethan, on the other hand, dared you to perform the same dance while he evaluated and gave it a rating.
As soon as you laid eyes on her, she looked absolutely stunning, even more down-to-earth than she did just moments ago on stage.
"Alright, enough fooling around, I've won, and my prize is Victoria. See you later." You halted the dance, approached Victoria, and planted a kiss on her lips.
🎸
You hop into an Uber to head back to the hotel, chatting away during the ride. Conversation has never been an issue for you both—you always have so much to catch up on since your lives are jam-packed, leaving little time for heart-to-heart talks.
"Last week, I was in Paris, did you catch that? Y/N, I stumbled upon this incredible restaurant that we absolutely have to try together. It's right up your alley, with all your favorite things. The whole time I was there, I couldn't stop thinking about you," she confessed.
"Was that the day you called me, and I couldn't pick up?"
"Yes, exactly! I just wanted to hear your voice. Sometimes it sucks being so far away from you," she replied, her gaze lowered as her hand gently glided up your thighs.
"We've arrived," the driver announces, and you step out of the car.
The moments leading up to entering Victoria's hotel room were a whirlwind for you, consumed by thoughts of indulging in every inch of her captivating form.
As soon as she locked the door behind you, her eyes locked onto yours, a potent mix of desire and admiration shining through. You yearned for her, craving her presence in every imaginable way. With a seductive grin, Vic shrugged off her jacket, revealing a tantalizing hint of her confidence. Closing the distance between you, she extended her hand and deftly slipped the coat off her shoulders, letting it fall carelessly to the floor.
"Now you're all mine," she whispered, pressing her lips against your exposed shoulders, playfully nibbling at your neck.
"And you're all mine, just us here," you whispered, your voice laced with possessiveness and adoration. With a gentle caress, you twirled a strand of her hair around your finger, relishing in its silky touch against your skin. In that moment, the world faded away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a uniquely intimate bond.
With a daring move, she firmly grasped your hips, asserting her dominance. In one swift motion, she pressed you against the wall, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. A surge of anticipation shot through you as your back met the unyielding surface.
Driven by a heady mix of desire and control, her hands began their ascent. One arm encircled you possessively, drawing you closer, while the other embarked on a tantalizingly slow journey, inching higher and higher. The tension mounted, testing your patience, until at last, she cupped your breast, igniting a surge of pleasure that rippled through your entire being.
Vic pulled back her hands with a mischievous grin.
"Not yet," she said, slowly stepping backward toward her bed, still holding your hand, her gaze fixed on you.
She undressed you completely, leaving you completely naked. A triumphant smirk played on her lips as she pushed you onto the bed, delighting in the sight of her breasts bouncing.
"I missed you so much," she whispered.
Crawling on top of you, she captured your wrists, trapping you beneath her. Her lips crashed against yours, trailing down to your chin and neck. She ravished your skin, sucking and nibbling, leaving a trail of moist kisses in her path. Then, with purposeful motion, she positioned her knee between your thighs, pressing it against your moist center. A gasp escaped her lips as you instinctively moved your hips forward.
She showered your body with kisses, leaving love bites on your sides, hips, and thighs. Her gentle touch caressed your heated skin, sending shivers of delight through your body. Vic reveled in teasing you, savoring the sound of your moans. At last, she focused her attention on your most sensitive areas, her mischievous grin fueling your excitement.
Her fingers embarked on a tantalizing dance, teasing your folds and stroking your clit. As she slid two fingers inside you, she lowered her face, nestling it between your thighs. Vic's warm breath against your skin sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. With deliberate slowness, she lavished your clit with a long, languid lick, her tongue pressing firmly against it. Your moans filled the air as you instinctively reached out, tangling your fingers in her blonde locks, pulling her closer to you.
Vic increased the speed of her fingers, skillfully exploring every inch of her pulsating pussy, creating a symphony of juicy, tantalizing sounds. She eagerly sucked on your clit, simultaneously thrusting her fingers in and out with rapidity. The intensity heightened, your muscles tensing, and your body edging closer to the precipice. You couldn't help but let out loud moans, the pleasure intensifying within you.
And then it happened. Your climax crashed over you like a wild wave, and you couldn't suppress the loud scream that escaped your lips. Waves of ecstasy engulfed you as you experienced the euphoric release.
Vic continued to bestow attention on your sensitive folds, indulging in a few more licks of your pussy before planting a gentle kiss on your thigh, a silent sign of satisfaction.
"I missed you so, so much," she whispered, her mouth and chin still glistening, soaked with anticipation.
"Well, now it's my turn..." you whispered, a mischievous grin spreading across your face as you pulled her down, aligning your eyes with hers.
You pressed your lips against hers in a passionate kiss, and then shifted on top of her, reversing roles. This time, you took the lead and embarked on fulfilling her deepest desires, transporting her to euphoric heights just as she had done for you.
#vic de angelis#victoria de angelis#victoria de angelis x reader#vic de angelis x reader#victoria de angelis fic#måneskin fic#maneskin imagine
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a little misunderstanding between two neighbors
deliveries of love | commission by lacampanule
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hiding in the storage room at work writing Dewther smut and listening to Twin Temple in my headphones.... I apologise for whatever happens.
(Now posted on Ao3)
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Eddie letting you release every pent up emotion when you’re with him and he notices you’re visibly just overwhelmed as fuck because life is kicking your ass, I’m talking letting you sob into his shirt, snot and everything, squeezing his hands, encouraging you to throw shit at the wall if you need to, anything to help you release some of the tension that’s built up within you over the past few weeks and then he holds you after while you’re still crying but exhausted so he just lets you sit for as long as you need in his arms while he rubs your back and hides you in his chest away from all the bad and scary things 🥲
#vics thoughts#It’s a rough night boys#idk why I’m so fucking emotional#maybe it’s this whole full moon thing#but fuck I feel so alone even in a room full of people#and I just wish I had eddie 🥲#take me away from this god awful place you magic raccoon man#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie x reader#eddie munson fic
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