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PAIRING: benjamin poindexter x gn!reader
WARNINGS: intentional lowercase, no use of y/n, established relationship
GENRE: fluff, slight angst
SONG INSPIRATION: lost with you by patrick watson
WORD COUNT: 599
NAVIGATION | REQUEST | BENJAMIN POINDEXTER MASTERLIST
youβd always woken up a little before dex, especially when neither of you had set an alarm for the next morning, it was one of those mornings.
the longer you sleep beside him, the more you seem to notice about him. one of those things was that he never really looked peaceful when he slept, not fully. even now there was tension tucked into him, jaw faintly set, brows just barely drawn together like he couldn't seem to bring himself to relax even whilst he was resting.Β
one hand rested close to his chest, fingers curled loosely into the sheets, your chest ached at the sight of him, as much as people had to say about dex, heβd gone through more than anyone should have to carry. things that carved themselves into a person. even when he smiled, even when he tried, you could still catch the shadow of it behind his eyes.
but right now he was here. safe and warm with you. you shifted carefully onto your side, propping yourself up on an elbow as you looked down at him. a strand of his hair had fallen over his forehead. you brushed it back gently, fingertips barely touching his skin.
he didnβt wake, so you lean down, pressing the lightest kiss to his forehead. then another to the corner of his brow, another to the bridge of his nose, his breathing changed just slightly, deeper then slower, but he stayed asleep.
a smile tugged at your mouth, you kissed one closed eyelid, then the other. his lips twitched faintly, you like to think that somewhere in sleep he knew exactly what was happening but didnβt mind one bit.
you kissed over the line of his cheekbone, then the other side, trailing affection over every place you could possibly reach, wanting to try to rewrite every cruel thing the world had ever handed him.
βyou deserve everything good,β you whispered against his skin, another kiss to his jaw. βyou deserve softness.β another beside his mouth, βyou deserve to be loved.β saying it quietly into him even though he couldnβt hear youβ¦ well thatβs what you thought.
this time when you leaned in again, his hand caught your jaw gently, your breath hitched. benjaminβs eyes were half open, sleep heavy, lashes low over them. he looked up at you with sleepy confusion, softened by exhaustion.
βhow long,β his voice rough with sleep, he cleared his throat a little, βhave you been attacking me?β you laughed under your breath. βlong enough.βΒ
his thumb brushed your lower cheek where he held you. βi was aware.β
βoh, were you?β
βmhm.β his eyes slipped shut again for a second. βdidnβt want you to stop.β you got giddy all over again, bending down to kiss him properly this time, catching his lips with your own, happily savouring the moment. when you pulled back, his arm came around your back, hand sliding lower until it found your ass, squeezing as he dragged you closer.Β
βyou know,β you murmured, brushing your nose against his, βi plan on doing this every morning.β
he swallowed thickly before speaking up, βno oneβs ever done that before.β the room felt like it went still. you touched his face, thumb smoothing over the line of his cheek. βthen they were incredibly stupid.β
for a second something flickered across his face, that disbelief he always had when your kindness reached for him, never quite knowing what to do with it. it didnβt take him long to tug you down against him, burying his face in your shoulder as he held you tighter.
PAIRING: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader
WARNINGS: misunderstanding, no use of y/n, intentional lowercase
GENRE: angst
PLAYLIST: here
WORD COUNT: 1k
NOTE: been thinking about this for a bit, let's pretend sophie did actually leave for the americas :)
three months was not very long in the eyes of the ton, but in the heart of a man it could stretch intolerably wide.
it had been three months since sophie had gone to the americas, three months since whispers had briefly fluttered about benedict bridgerton only to die when no scandal followed, three months since he had quietly removed himself from every gathering.
every musicale, every dinner where laughter rang too sharply against his grief. society had not known why he disappeared, only that he had and in his absence, curiosity had bloomed.
when he finally returned to the ballroom that evening. under the gentle but insistent encouragement of violet bridgerton, the air seemed to shift. heads turned, many conversations faltered. mothers nudged daughters forward with hopeful eyes.Β
he had been missed. he had been speculated about. and, most dangerously of all, he had been romanticised in his absence.
you watched it happen from the far side of the room.
the orchestra swelled and dipped. laughter floated around the particularly large room, and yet he stood apart even when he was surrounded, bowing when required, smiling when expected, speaking charmingly in a way that had undone so many before.Β
but his eyesβ¦ his eyes were elsewhere. distant, almost strained?Β
you had not known the cause of his sorrow. no one had. whatever had passed between him and the mysterious absence at the centre of his silence had remained precisely that, mysterious. you only knew that tonight he lookedβ¦ unwell.Β
not physically, no. he was as handsome as ever, but there was a tightness to him. a sharpness. as if he were holding himself together by sheer stubborn will. when the third eager debutante of the evening laughed too loudly at something he had said, you saw it, the flicker of his composure breaking.
he excused himself with practiced grace. no one stopped him, you hesitated for only a moment before following.
the balcony doors whispered open and shut, the night blew a cool air against your overheated skin. the noise of the ballroom dulled behind thick glass. he stood with his hands braced against the stone wall of the balcony, shoulders rigid, breath coming slow.
you took two quiet steps forward.
βi did not realise the air inside had grown so very thin,β you joked gently, not wishing to startle him.
he turned sharply at the sound of your voice. the expression on his face was not grief, it was exhaustion sharpened into irritation.
βforgive me,β he huffed out, his tone clipped but outwardly civil. βif you have come in pursuit of some arrangement or introduction, i fear you waste your time. i have neither the inclination nor the patience this evening.β
the words were polite, the dismissal unmistakable. you stared at him. he had not truly looked at you yet, not really. heard your voice, had seen only silk and silhouette and assumed the rest. another hopeful, another ambitious motherβs dream.Β
your spine straightened. βi beg your pardon?β you replied, coolly. βi have no desire to be arranged, introduced, or otherwise inflicted upon you, mr bridgerton.β
that caught him. his gaze sharpened, finally focusing.
you stood a few paces from him, hands clasped tightly at your waist to conceal your temper. the night breeze tugged at the edge of your skirts and loosened a curl near your temple. you had not followed him for yourself.
βi did not come to claim you,β you continued, voice steady despite the heat rising in your cheeks. βi came because you looked as though you might collapse under the weight of everyone wanting something from you. i thought perhaps you required a moment of normality.β
silence fell between you. he blinked. he focused on you, it was subtle at first, the shift in his expression. the irritation faltered, his defensive rigidity softened. his eyes moved over your face as if committing it to memory against his will.Β
you were right. you were not simpering, you looked⦠offended and beneath that, more concerned than anything else.
god, you were beautiful.
not in the fragile, porcelain way so often paraded before him. you were vivid, alive, your eyes flashed with intelligence and temper in equal measure. you stood as if you belonged to yourself entirely.
he had not expected that. βi see,β he cleared his throat, suddenly regretting his words. you had already begun to retreat from the moment.
βhow foolish of me,β you replied stiffly, lifting your chin. βto mistake your solitude for distress. i shall not make the error again.β
you gathered your skirts slightly to navigate the threshold back into the ballroom. the movement revealed the delicate line of your ankle, an act so small yet it undid him more thoroughly than any practiced flirtation.
he felt it then, the pull. a quiet awareness blooming in his chest. enough for him to want to follow you back into the building
he was still caught in the memory of another, he tries to remind himself. still aching from a departure he had not prepared for. his heart had not mended, he had sworn it would not be so easily diverted by a pretty face and sharper tongue.
but you were not simply pretty, you had seen him and that was infinitely more dangerous. βwait,β he gently called.
you stepped back into the golden wash of candlelight, not hearing him. swallowed once more by music, people talking to you. from the balcony, he watched as you rejoined the crowd without seeking him again, your expression composed though your steps were a touch sharper than before.
he had dismissed you, realising you had meant it when you said you wanted nothing to do with him. inside, a gentleman bowed before you, requesting your next dance. you accepted without hesitation, letting him write in your dance card before he guided you to the floor.
benedict remained where he was, hands tightening back onto the cold stone as something as wholly inconvenient settled in his chest. for the first time in three months, his grief did not stand alone.
it was accompanied.
and when you laughed brightly, carefree. as your new partner spun you around the floor, he realised with a dawning dread that he did not wish to be watching you, but instead dancing with you.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Anya is LIVE right now
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PAIRING: hudson williams x fem!reader x connor storrie
WARNINGS: no use of y/n, intentional lowercase
GENRE: fluff
PLAYLIST: here
WORD COUNT: 1k
NOTE: i have no reason to be making series and taking this long to update, im sooo sorry, thought i'd post this to tide you over! cause i'm strugglinnnggg to think of where this should go lmao
navigation | request | two is infact better than one masterlist | part one | next
it had been about a week since you last heard from connor or hudson. a week since the event, since youβd nervously typed your number into their phones. at the time, it had seemed like a good idea, low pressure, but now, sitting at your kitchen counter, you were starting to rethink everything.
your phone buzzed in your pocket. you jumped, stomach dropping, only to see it was a notification from instagram, a post your friend tagged you in. you sighed, disappointed. you really had tried to be nonchalant about it at first.
#youβd told yourself you wouldnβt check every five minutes, that youβd focus on work, on emails, on literally anything else, but somehow, that had lasted exactly two days.
now, even with your schedule packed, the anxiety was very much still there, you couldnβt shake it. you caught yourself glancing at your phone again. you had counted, at least, fifteen times in the past ten minutes. your thumb hovered over the screen ready to unlock and check for a new message. any message.
a small part of you tried to reason it out. βitβs only been a week,β you muttered to yourself, staring out the window as you sipped on your tea. βtheyβre busy. youβre busy. itβs late, itβs fine.β but it didnβt feel fine. it felt like your brain had turned against you, the wait really was killing you.
the exposure that you had gotten online after that night shouldβve been enough to distract you.
your interview clip had somehow become the clip. edits of your interactions with the three of you. people dissecting your answers, your follower count had jumped overnight. your publicist had sent three different emails with subject lines in all caps.
it was good. really good.
but none of it stopped you from checking your phone again and again. youβd told yourself you just have to be patient. then again you didnβt want to have misread that night. the touches, the kisses on your cheeks, the hugs at the end of the night.
maybe theyβd just been caught up in the atmosphere, hell maybe you had been too.
you exhale slowly and force your phone face down on the counter. tomorrow you have a photoshoot anyway. big brand, big opportunities, you need sleep, not to be up spiraling.
the studio air smells faintly like hairspray and coffee. youβre ushered from makeup to wardrobe with gentle hands guiding your elbows, stylists murmuring about lighting and fabric drape. the space is bright, aggressively white and the music playing over the speakers echoes throughout the room.
you slip into work mode easily, itβs muscle memory by now. your chin angled, shoulders dropped, eyes softened just enough to look candid. the photographer moves around you in slow arcs, camera clicking in sharp bursts.Β
the photographer lowers his camera slightly, studying you for a second before lifting his hand.
βhold that.β you freeze mid motion, eyes lifted through your lashes. your fingers are hooked loosely into the hem of the sweater, shoulder tilted toward the light. the fan blows air towards you, pushing your hair back just enough to expose your jawline.
βbeautiful,β he murmurs, circling you slowly.
he steps closer, not touching at first. just gesturing. βturn your body slightly- yeah, give me more of this side.β
you shift your weight onto your back foot, hip angling subtly as your shoulders rotate. the sweater slips a fraction lower down your arm and the stylist moves in quickly, adjusting it with careful fingers before stepping away again.
βgood. relax your mouth,β he suggests, tapping his own lip as demonstration, which made you smile quickly before snapping back into professionalism.
you part yours slightly, exhaling through them so your expression softens. your hand slides from the hem of the sweater to your collarbone, fingertips brushing lightly across your skin absentmindedly. the camera clicks rapidly.
βchin up. not that much-Β there. stay right there.β
he steps forward then, gently placing two fingers beneath your jaw to tilt it a few degrees toward the light. itβs brief and professional, his touch gone as quickly as it came. you follow the direction instinctively, arching your neck just enough to elongate the line.
βyes! thatβs it.β
the music shifts to something slower. you roll your shoulders back between frames, letting tension drop. on the next cue, you pivot fully, giving him your side profile. one hand slips into the pocket of the jeans theyβve styled you in.
between outfit changes, you step off set and reach automatically for your phone.
still nothing. you swallow it down, the disappointment, the tiny sting in your chest .
itβs fine, you tell yourself again.Β
by midday, youβre in your fourth look. softer lighting now, warmer tones, your makeup slightly smudged on purpose for the look. youβre leaning against a backdrop when your assistant hurries toward you, weaving around cables and light stands.
βsorry,β she apologises quietly, holding your phone out. βi think youβll want to take this.β
your heart stutters before you even get a good look at it, your fingers clumsy as you unlock the screen. seeing that youβve been added into a new groupchat.
connor: hi. iβm hoping it isnβt too late to text you
hudson: weβve been arguing about who should message first for a week. sooo heyy
the breath you let out is shaky, almost embarrassing in itβs relief.
βeverything okay?β the photographer calls from behind the camera. you canβt stop smiling. βyeah, actually.β you call back softly as your thumbs move quickly to reply back.
you: i was starting to think you two forgot about me
the typing bubble appears almost instantly.
hudson: we absolutely did not forget
connor: we just didnβt want to seem too eager
a quiet laugh escapes you, and you press your lips together to try and hide it as the stylist comes in to adjust your sleeve again.
hudson: are you busy today?
you glance up at the lights, the camera, the team moving around you.
you: photoshoot. trying to look professional
connor: when are you free?
you hesitate only long enough to feel your pulse in your fingertips.
you: tonight maybe?
you: wait whyy?
thereβs a minute where they're typing, your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for their reply.
connor: we were hoping youβd say that
you lower your phone slowly, staring at nothing for a second as the warmth spreads through you, not anxiety this time. something more anticipatory.
βready?β the photographer asks. you straighten your shoulders, handing your phone back to your giddy manager, step back under the lights, and this time when the camera flashes, your smile is anything but fake.
PAIRING: hudson williams x female!reader x connor storrie
WORD COUNT: 809
navigation | request | two is infact better than one masterlist
the night doesnβt end all at once, it thins out.
one goodbye bleeds into another, arms around shoulders, fingers squeezing wrists a little longer than necessary. everyoneβs riding that strange post award high. champagne breath, mascara smudges, laughter that comes a second too late.Β
you keep smiling because itβs second nature by now, because you love these people, because youβre good at this.
but your head is pounding.
by the time your manager leans in and whispers, βweβll take the back,β you donβt even hesitate to stand up. you nod, relief washing through you as security tightens around your sides, steering you away from the main exit.Β
you adore fans, always have, but paparazzi at the end of a night like this arenβt worth the riskΒ . theyβre impatient and pushy cause theyβre also all tired and need to get paid.
the back of the venue is quieter and much cooler. a service alley lit by soft yellow bulbs and the glow of idling cars. your driver is already there, the door open, waiting on you.
you take a breath. one more step and youβll finally be done for the night.
βhey- wait up!β
you flinch, heart jumping as you turn.
hudson and connor come into view, jogging toward you, connors tie is crooked. connorβs hair has fallen out of whatever careful styling it had earlier. both of them are slightly out of breath, hands braced on their thighs for a second as they stop.
you blink, then laugh.
βoh my god,β you breathe out, half amused, half startled. βi thought i was about to get yelled at.β
connor laughs too, shaking his head. βyeah, no. sorry. we didnβt mean to scare you.β
hudson straightens, rolling his shoulders as if heβs trying to calm himself. βwe justβ¦uh- didnβt want to miss you.β
you glance between them, smiling softening. βeverything okay?β
thereβs a pause. hudson looks at connor. connor looks back. hudson exhales. βwe were wonderingβ¦ if we could get your number.β
connor nods quickly, βonly if youβre comfortable. just to stay in touch.β
the honesty of it, catches you off guard in the best way.
βyeah,β you blurt out without thinking, βof course, thatβd be lovely.β
the tension in their shoulders visibly releases.
connor hands you his phone first, then hudson does the same. you take them both, thumbs moving easily as you type your name and number into each. you donβt rush it, thereβs no reason to.
when you give their phones back, hudson glances down at the screen then back up at you.
βthank you,β you shrug lightly, βiβd have been disappointed if you didnβt ask.β
that makes connor laugh under his breath.
for a second, none of you speak. the alley hums softly, the distant crowd, an engine idling, the muted clink of someone packing equipment inside the venue.
you step forward before you can overthink it.
connorβs closest. heβs taller enough that your arms slide around his middle, your cheek brushing the front of his jacket as you lean in. the hug is brief but warm, the kind that says thank you for being kind to me tonight.
his hands come to rest lightly at your back, careful, respectful, he only pulls away when he feels you do it first. his head dipping instinctively.
as you separate, he turns just enough to press a quick kiss to your cheek, soft and unassuming, it happens on reflex rather than intention.
then youβre turning toward hudson.
you fit into him a little differently. one arm loops around his shoulders, the other settling at his side as you lean in, closer than you need to be. he stills for half a second before his arms come around you, slower this time.. you feel the warmth of him through his silk shirt, the way his chest rises.
when you pull back, he does too, eyes dropping briefly before lifting again, thatβs when he leans in, brushing a kiss to your other cheek as you separate. it lingers only a fraction longer than connorβs, this one very much intentional.
you step back with a smile you donβt quite bother hiding, heart still humming, that same quiet infatuation curling in your chest, the one youβd felt all night, watching them, feeling oddly seen.
βgoodnight,β you bid them, βgoodnight,β they echo.
hudson smiles at you, βmake sure to let us know when you get home safe.β
you nod, stepping into the car, sharing one final look as the door closes behind you.
neither of you notice the figure a few yards away, half hidden behind a van. their phone still angled as they stopped recording the video.
by the time your car disappears down the street, the moment is no longer just yours and by morning, it wonβt matter how βinnocentβ it was.Β
the internet will decide what all of it really meantβ¦
PAIRING: steve harrington x gn!reader
WARNINGS: grief, mourning, no use of y/n, intentional lowercase
GENRE: angst
PLAYLIST: here
WORD COUNT: 1k
NOTE: this was made before steve and dustin made up in the show lol
navigation | request | steve harrington masterlist
the van door slams harder than it needs to.
it echoes through the parking lot, for a second everything goes quiet. dustin limps off toward the curb, backpack bouncing against his spine, shoulders tight.
steve stands there, jaw clenched, hands fisted at his sides. you can practically see the regret clawing at him, fighting with the fear that put it there in the first place.
βsteve,β you call, already stepping toward him.
βi know,β he starts, rubbing a hand through his hair. βi know, i shouldnβt have-β
you catch his wrist.
not hard. just enough to stop him from walking away.
βcome here,β you tug him a few steps to the side of the van, out of earshot. your voice is calm, βyou need to be nicer to him.β
steve lets out a breath through his nose, defensive instinct flaring. βi am being nice. iβm just- jesus, iβm worried, okay? heβs acting like nothing happened. he obviously got into a fight and it's like throwing himself into this as if heβs got nothing to lose.β
βand why do you think that is?β you ask.
he opens his mouth. closes it again.
βi know heβs grieving,β steve says, faster now, βi know that. i get it.β
you tilt your head slightly, βbut do you though?β that makes him stop.
steve looks at you then, really looks, he straightens a little. βwhatβs that supposed to mean?β
βit means,β you breathe out carefully, βthat knowing someone is grieving and understanding what that grief is doing to them are two very different things.β
steve scoffs weakly, βiβve lost people too.β
βi know,β you agree, βiβm not saying you havenβt. iβm saying this is different.β
his shoulders tense, βdifferent how?β
you swallow, choosing how you were gonna put your words out, βdustin didnβt just lose someone, he had to watch his best friend die. in his arms. eddie died holding onto him.β
steveβs face goes slack.
you press on, voice steadier than you feel, βhe felt his weight go limp. heard him struggle to breatheβ¦ heard the last thing he ever said.β
steveβs throat bobs, βthat wasnβt just someone he cared about,β you continue. βthat was his person. the one who made him feel less weird, less alone.β
steve looks down at the ground. his foot nudges a pebble back and forth.
βi didnβt mean to snap at him,β he mutters, βi just- every time he runs headfirst into danger, it feels like iβm about to lose him too.β
βi know,β you add softly, βand thatβs why iβm telling you this now, before you say something you canβt take back.β
he doesnβt look up.
βwill, mike, lucas,β you go on.
βtheyβre hurting too and theyβre all trying to deal with it in their own ways. but theyβre alsoβ¦ whether they mean to or not, putting pressure on dustin to move on. to be okay. to act normal again.β
steve frowns faintly, βtheyβre just trying to help.β
βi know,β you repeat, βbut from dustinβs point of view? it probably feels like everyoneβs saying, you should be over this by now.
and thatβs the last thing you do to someone who lost the person they loved,β you sigh. then you pause. let it hang there, let him feel the weight of it.
slowly, you continue, a little quieter now, βcan you imagine if i died?β
that finally makes him look up. his eyes snap to yours, startled. βdonβt-β
βjust imagine it,β you get out quickly, βimagine watching it happen. imagine holding me while i bled out, while i begged you not to let go and then imagine people telling you that you need to move on already. that youβre being reckless, that youβre not acting like yourself.β
he reaches for your hand, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles, βyou wouldnβt be able to, you wouldnβt want to, because loving someone doesnβt just stop when they die.β
his breathing turns uneven.
βpersonally iβd be furious, iβd be broken and iβd probably do stupid things too, because when the worst has already happened, danger doesnβt really feel like it matters anymore.β
steve swallows hard. his eyes shine, he blinks rapidly, jaw trembling despite his best effort to hold it together.
βi didnβt think about it like that,β he whispers.
βi know,β you step closer, βthatβs why iβm telling you.β
he drags a hand down his face, βheβs keeping eddie alive the only way he knows how.β
silence stretches heavily between you, steve stares at the concrete, eyes unfocused. βi was so busy being scared,β he admits. βscared he was going to get himself killed. scared iβd fail him like i failed eddie.β
βyou didnβt fail eddie,β you disagree immediately. he shakes his head, βi shouldβve been there.β
βso should a lot of people,β you reply. βbut that doesnβt mean it was your fault.β
steveβs shoulders sag, the fight draining out of him all at once. βi was an asshole to him.β
βyes,β you shrug, βyou were.β he huffs out a weak breath, you give him a small, sad smile.Β
he looks back where dustin disappeared to, guilt written all over his face. βi need to fix this.β
βthen start by apologising,β you suggest. βnot for being worried. for making him feel like his grief was wrong.β
he nods slowly. βyeah.β hesitates, then asks, βdo you think heβll forgive me?β
you squeeze his hand. βdustin loves you. he just needs to know youβre on his side."
steve closes his eyes for a moment. when he opens them again, he sighs, βi get it now,β he says hoarsely. βi really do.β
you lean in and press your forehead to his shoulder. βthatβs all i wanted.β
he wraps his arms around you, βthank you,β he murmurs into your hair. βfor calling me out.β
you hold him there for a beat longer before pulling back, βgo talk to him,β you push him in dustin's direction. βiβll be right here.β
steve nods, takes a steadying breath, and goes over, mumbling to himself on the way.
PAIRING: hudson williams x fem!reader x connor storrie
WARNINGS: intentional use of lowercase, no use of y/n
GENRE: fluff
PLAYLIST: here
WORD COUNT: 805
NOTE: lowkey wanna make a series out of this . . .
navigation | request | two is infact better than one masterlist
thatβs the thing about the globes. every five steps, someone stops you. a producer you havenβt seen in years. a reporter who remembers a quote you gave once and will never let it go. a camera swiveling toward you the second you slow down.
youβre midway through another interview when it happens.
the interviewer. bright smile, mic angled, tilts her head toward the carpet behind you. βso, we have to ask. heated rivalry has basically taken over the internet. have you watched it and if you did, did you like it?β
you blink. then your face lights up.
βdid i like it?β you repeat, already laughing. βi loved it.β
the interviewer grins, clearly pleased. βyeah?β
βoh, i binged it in less than a day,β you ramble. βlike, canceled plans, phone on silent, unwell about it.β
somewhere just off to your left, you're oblivious that hudson is mid interview himself, glances over, already slightly smirking to himself. he knows where this is going.
βthe chemistry,β you continue, hands coming up as you talk, animated now. βthatβs what got me. it wasnβt just tension for tensionβs sake, you know? there was so much chemistry. like, the way they looked at each other-β
you cut yourself off, laughing. βsorry. iβm getting too into this.β
βno, please,β the interviewer says. βgo on.β
βit just hooked me,β you nod, βi donβt even know how to explain it. you start one episode thinking youβll stop halfway and then suddenly itβs four in the morning and youβre like, what am i supposed to do with myself now?β
the camera zooms slightly closer.
βand,β you add, turning fully toward the lens now, eyes sparkling with mischief, βi am formally begging. publicly. on record. please cast me in season two.β
the interviewer laughs, βoh?β
βi donβt care if itβs a small scene,β you insist, clasping your hands dramatically. βiβll be a random girl in the background. iβll do something embarrassing. iβll do anything.β
you glance straight into the camera again, completely unserious and fully committed. βcall me.β
hudson actually snorts from his interview, shaking his head.
youβre still smiling when movement catches your eye, someone passing just by you. tall. dark suit. familiar face.
connor storrie.
your brain short circuits instantly.
βoh my god, wait, connor,β you blurt, turning completely away from the interview without hesitation.
the interviewer looks momentarily startled as you call out, βhi! hi, sorry, hi!β
connor stops mid step, clearly surprised. his face breaks into a grin the second he realises youβre talking to him.
βhey,β he acknowledges, laughing a little, stepping closer.
you donβt even think, you reach out, lightly grabbing his arm to get his attention fully. βhi. iβm so sorry, iβm being rude, iβm mid interview, but i wanted to say hi.β
he laughs, shaking his head. βno, itβs okay, hi to you too.β
he leans in and pulls you into a quick side hug, arm warm and around your shoulders. itβs brief, cameras immediately swing toward the two of you.
βgood to see you,β his words quiet against your ear.
βyou too,β you reply, beaming up at him. βseriously.β
he gives a little nod, still smiling, before letting you go and continuing on toward his own interview spot.
the second heβs gone, you turn back toward the camera, pressing a hand to your chest dramatically.
βiβm fine,β you announce, βwoo! i'm totally fine.β
the interviewer laughs, βyou alright?β
you fan yourself with your hand, a little over the top. βit should be illegal.β
βwhat should?β
you glance between where connor disappeared and now realising where hudson is doing his own interview a few feet away, then back to the camera.
βis it weird if i say that they both smell and look so good?β you fangirl, βitβs actually unfair to the rest of us.β
βi mean,β you continue, grinning, βhow is anyone else supposed to compete with that? i walked onto this carpet confident and now iβm just-β
you flutter your hand again, mock dazed.
βruined,β the interviewer finishes for you.
βruined,β you confirm.
hudson glances over again, catching the tail end of your dramatics. he watches you with an amused, fond smile, completely unaware that he's just watched you just publicly sing his praises.
βand final question,β the interviewer says, still smiling. βif you were cast in season twoβ¦ who would you want scenes with?β
you donβt even hesitate.
βboth,β you blurt out, βtogether, preferably.β
the interviewer laughs as the segment wraps, thanking you. you step back, still riding the buzz, cheeks warm, heart thudding.
as you finally move toward the ballroom entrance, hudson finishes his interview too, catching up to you as you go and take your pictures.
walking side by side with you now, he raises his brows, amused. βdid i hear my show just got aggressively promoted?β
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PAIRING: rosita espinosa x fem!reader
WARNINGS: heartbroken rosita, lowercase intended, no use of y/n
GENRE: fluff
PLAYLIST: here
WORD COUNT: 915
navigation | request | rosita espinosa masterlist
you roll your shoulders as you step off the ladder, rifle slung across your back, stride heavy from hours of pacing at the gate.
late shifts always leave you feeling half wired. too tired to think straight, too awake to sleep.
youβre halfway down the street when you notice her.
rosita sitting on the bench of her porch, one leg crossed over the other, cigarette glowing faintly between her fingers. the porch light is off, leaving her mostly in shadow, but you recognised her presence nonetheless.Β
you slow without meaning to.
she doesnβt look up right away. just stares out at the street, jaw set, eyes fixed onto nothing. smoke curls upward, catching moonlight for a second before vanishing.
you hesitate at the edge of the porch. you donβt want to intrude. but something in your chest tugs, βcouldnβt sleep?β you ask quietly.
her head tilts toward your voice, βguess not.β
itβs flat, not rude or anything, just tired.
you step closer, boots thudding softly against the wood. the porch boards creak under your weight, she shifts slightly, making room without looking at you.
you sit beside her, leaving an inch of space between your shoulders. for a moment, neither of you speaks.
the cigarette burns low. rosita flicks ash into the ashtray on the table beside her with a sharp tap.
βi donβt know how he did it,β you voice breaking, clearing it after.
she glances at you, brow furrowing, βwhat do you mean?β
you exhale, staring out at the empty street, βi donβt know how he could have possibly left someone like you.β your swallow, βso strong. were so dedicated to him. soβ¦ genuine.β
she scoffs softly, shaking her head. βyou donβt have to-β
βsashaβs great,β you continue, quick to add it, not wanting this to sound cruel. βshe really is. butβ¦ shit.β you finally turn to look at rosita. βthat man doesnβt know what heβs lost out on.β
for the first time all week, her mouth curves, not a full smile, but something close to it, βheβs a dick,β she takes another drag.
you huff out a quiet laugh, βyeah. agreed.β
she glances at you sideways, then holds the cigarette out, offering.
you take it, your fingers brushing hers for half a second longer than necessary. the paperβs warm when you bring it to your lips. you inhale, then blow the smoke out the side of your mouth, away from her.
βby the way,β you add casually, handing it back, βyou look pretty.β
she lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. βbullshit.β
you tilt your head, studying her openly now. her eyes are puffy, lashes clumped slightly from tears she probably wiped away hours ago. her hairβs pulled back messily, loose strands escaping at her temples, sheβs wearing an oversized hoodie that looks slept in.
βyou donβt mean that,β she gestured vaguely to herself, βi am,β you reply simply. she snorts, βyouβre full of shit.β
you shake your head, passing the cigarette back again, βi disagree.β
she takes it, eyes flicking to you despite herself. you watch her lips as she inhales, the way they part just slightly, the glow reflecting in her eyes. when she exhales, her shoulders ease, just a fraction.
βyouβre pretty when youβre thinking.β
her fingers still mid flick. ash drops, forgotten.
that makes her swallow. you can see it, the way her throat moves, the way her jaw tightens.
you lean against the back of the bench, gaze drifting up toward the star, βitβs not just that, though.β she doesnβt interrupt.
βi like the way you correct people when they underestimate you, but never make a big deal out of it. the way you laugh with your whole body when something actually gets you.β
rosita stares straight ahead now, cigarette forgotten between her fingers.
βand the way,β you continue, quieter, βyou show up for the people around you. every single time..β
her laugh this time is shaky, βyou make me sound better than i am.β
βi make you sound like you,β you disagree. βand i'm not gonna lie youβreβ¦ kind of incredible.β
the silence returns, stretches between you, thick but not uncomfortable. somewhere down the street, a door creaks, a breeze lifting the hem of your jacket.
rosita finally turns to you, cheeks warm, eyes shining, βyou always notice people like this?β
βonly the ones who matter,β you reply honestly.
that does it.
she looks away, lips pressing together, shoulders drawing in as if sheβs suddenly unsure what to do with herself. she rubs her thumb along the cigarette filter, then stubs it out.
βshit,β she mutters.
you smile gently, not pushing. βi should probably go wake the next person for their turn.β
she nods, relief and disappointment tangled together in the motion. βyeah, of course.β
you stand, joints protesting after hours on your feet. for a second, you hesitate, resting a hand on the porch post near her, close but not touching.
βsleep well, rosita,β you smile at her.
she looks up at you again, eyes searching your face. βyou too.β
you step off the porch, hands in your pockets as you start back down the street, your steps quiet against the pavement.
a yawn slips from her as she stands, the fight finally leaving her body. for the first time in days, sleep feels possible. she wouldnβt say it out loud, not to you, not to anyone, but your presence had loosened something inside her.
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