#Muffin's Goodnight Stories

[ask-skull-and-muffin]

Goodnight Story #1

It's not a good night. The shadows stretch endlessly, there seem to be whispers hiding in the dark corners and even watching it all doesn't make it go away this time.

Eventually, Reborn just finds himself in the kitchen, with the lights turned on, checking over his guns and knives. Because if something is out there, he should be able to take it out, right? Nothing that can hurt him is invulnerable. There is always some kind of weakness he can find and exploit...

Either ways, Reborn isn't alone for long. Opposite the kitchen is the room Skull sleeps in, and with the lights on and all the doors open, Skull eventually awakes and comes over to check out what's happening. Reborn expected this. Skull always slept with his doors open, probably because he is very trusting and naive. This isn't unusual.

They don't really exchange words. Skull rubs some of the sleep out of his eyes, frowning a bit as he looks at the pile of weaponry on the table. He goes to grab a glass of water, sipping that slowly as Reborn systemically puts his weapons away again.

Because with Skull here... The whispers quiet down. The shadows settle more fully. And the World narrows down to this spot of bright purple. It's hard to look away from Skull sometimes. Tonight that's a blessing.

Skull finishes his glass and sniffles once, looking out the window, before pushing off the kitchen counter and curling one finger at Reborn. Perhaps a bit too obediently, Reborn gets up and follows Skull, taking along the black leather briefcase that holds his guns. Skull gives him a raised eyebrow, but doesn't voice any complaints.

Hell, he even let's Reborn put the suitcase besides his bed!

Reborn sits on the bed, watching quietly as Skull moves around the room, getting ready for bed again. Now, Skull does close and lock the door. He locks the window, even pulls the key out of the inside of the bathroom so he can lock that door too, opens and closes the closet so Reborn can see nobody is inside there either.

And it helps a little bit. Reborn even finds his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. He tenses up again when Skull walks over to him, but it's something at least. Skull just had to grab something from the nightstand, so Reborn just tries to take a breath when Skull leaves him be.

Skull plugs the thing he grabbed into the socket by the door, immediately bathing the room in an incredibly soft purple light. Reborn almost grimaces, a part of him deeply humiliated by the fact that this is even an unspoken agreement Skukll and him have.

If people knew that the World's Greatest Hitman needs a Nightlight to sleep properly....

Reborn would never hear the end of it, so he appreciates that this is just normal to Skull. He jumps just a little when Skull sits next to him, stretching once, before scooting backwards to cuddle into his bed, just like that. No words spoken, no strange looks.

Skull is very odd, but Reborn knows he isn't exactly normal either. So he joins his Cloud in bed, cuddling in and watching at the purple light chases away all the stretched shadows. Instead, the light creates a fluffy, fuzzy reality that feels... Safe somehow...

Reborn finds his eyes drooping shut against his will and forces them open again, frowning faintly in displeasure. Skull blinks at him, not impressed, but not judgemental. Instead, he reaches out and grabs hold of Reborn's hand, pulling it between the both of them and covering it with his own hand.

Skull's bare hands have a surprising amount of scars and callouses. They feels very warm and rough. It's pretty grounding. Reborn can only sigh when Skull gives him a firm look.

He's not gonna get away with resting tonight. He has to sleep or Skull will sulk for the rest of the week...

Skull traces a line down Reborn's hand, just to make Reborn aware that he'd closed his eyes again, but this time he doesn't feel the need to open them again. He shrugs, mostly to himself, sinking deeper into the ridiculously soft mattress and the incredible nice pillow.

Skull pulls the covers up over his shoulder, scooting a bit closer, still holding his hand, before sighing the softest words ever. "Goodnight Reborn..."

Reborn hums faintly in reply, several sleepless nights rapidly dragging him down into a hopefully dreamless sleep.

Their hands remain loosely connected through the entire night...

[dira333]

Lovesick Fools - Barou Shoei x Reader

another (very late) contribution to @tetzoro 's Summer Olympics Collab!

Barou Shoei has two different sides to him.

There’s the King of Soccer, the one who dominates the field, who needs to do things on his own, even if it means becoming the villain of the story.

And there’s the Shoei you’ve gotten to know in all the moments he isn’t playing. A perfectionist. A heart with so many walls up, Fort Knox would be proud. A boy who didn’t believe love could be for him until it fell into his lap.

-

“We can’t tell anyone that we’re dating,” he announces one Friday afternoon after practice, his hair down for once.

“Okay?” You had expected him to come over, had cleaned the kitchen and prepped the snacks, your favorite cozy blanket already out for a snuggle season.

“I got the spot. For the Olympic team.”

“That’s wonderf-”

“If they know we’re dating they’re not going to ask you to come along.”

You blink. “Why not? It’s not like we can’t work together.”

“I asked if they knew which Manager would be asked to come and Isagi told me that Reia is out because she’s dating one of the players.”

You sigh. “They’re probably not going to ask me anyway. The team has some major games planned and even without you here they will need me.”

“Still,” he pulls you in, an earnest look on his face. “We cannot tell anyone, okay?”

“Fine,” you agree, slinging your arms around him. 

-

The letter arrives on Monday, an unassuming white envelope containing the information you’d silently dreaded.

You’re one of the Manager’s called in. You’re going to be flying to Paris with Shoei. Oh, to experience one of the most romantic cities on earth with your partner without letting anyone know that you are, in fact, dating.

At this point, you’d have taken the L of staying back home if it had meant being able to hug him goodbye openly.

-

“What are we going to do about the others?” You ask, phone pressed against your ear as you’re packing your bags. “Half of the team knows we’re dating.”

“I told them to keep it to themselves,” Shoei grunts. “Is my Pajama at your place?”

“Uh, yes, should I pack it for you?”

“I’m coming to fetch it. I’m not sure we’re going to have a chance to switch it.”

You sigh. “I really wish we didn’t have to do that. It feels so dishonest.”

“We can pretend we’re falling in love in Paris.”

“Mhm, because you’re going to be so charming, sweaty, and stressed after practice.”

“You did fall for me like that the first time, so I don’t see why you’re complaining.”

“Meanie,” you stick your tongue out at him even though he can’t see it. He sighs. 

For a moment he’s silent too, before he grumbles.

“I’m bringing my stuff. I’m sleeping over tonight.”

-

Somehow you make it through the first day without a slip-up. 

Even though Bachira calls you “Missus Barou” - he apologizes immediately for the friendly teasing and you thank the heavens that no one important overheard - and Rin sends you weird looks when you make it a point not to sit next to Shoei during dinner.

But then you’re in your room with the other managers, unable to fall asleep without your goodnight kiss, the cardboard bed not helping the slightest.

“I just… uh… need to pee one last time,” you excuse yourself, wandering out into the dark hallway only to run into Shoei, hair down, scowl on his face.

“Can’t sleep without you,” he mutters and you’re thankful for the darkness allowing you to curl into his embrace.

“This will have to do,” you mutter, kissing him the way you would at home.

-

Practice starts early, despite the jetlag. 

At least the breakfast is good - you take one chocolate muffin with you for later, unable to withstand the temptation of baked goods for long - and you’re promised to have the evenings to yourself to sightsee.

Paris is filled with tourist attractions. It wouldn’t be that much of a coincidence to run into Shoei if you’re both out to sightsee, right?

It’s only when he grabs your hand and you flinch away, scared that someone in the crowd could see, you realize just how stressed this situation is making you.

“Hey,” he grabs your hand again. “Please. I need this.”

“I know, I know.” You take a deep breath, try to calm yourself. “I’m just freaking out. What if anyone finds out?”

“You’re here now. They can’t fire you, right?”

You huff. “They might. I’m just a manager.”

“If they fire you, I’ll leave with you,” Barou promises.

Still. You keep PDA to a minimum until you’ve picked a spot for dinner, a table at the back of a cozy little restaurant, your faces hidden from sight.

-

And you might have made it out unscathed, with Shoei’s perfectionism and your anxiety working as a team, if not for your daily goodnight kiss.

The other managers are convinced you’ve got a nervous bladder with how you’re darting out of the room as soon as the lights are out, claiming you need to pee just one last time.

You don’t know what the boys are thinking, what Shoei tells them when he leaves to find you.

All you know is that it feels good to sink into his arms, to kiss him in the darkness where no one can see-

until someone turns on the lights.

You blink against the brightness, still very much clinging to Shoei.

Ego stares back at you, his features unamused as he walks past you toward the men’s bathrooms.

“Use protection,” he drawls out before closing the door behind him.

“Do you think we’re getting fired?” You ask, breathless with fear.

“No,” Shoei grumbles, pulling you closer. “I don’t think he cares.”

-

You don’t sleep much that night, which isn’t ideal because your first match is the very next day.

Not even the chocolate muffin tastes as good as it’s supposed to, anxiety weighing you down.

Shoei takes one look at the shadows under your eyes and marches up to Ego right before training.

“Can we talk for a moment, Coach?”

“No,” Ego drawls lazily. “You need to get ready.”

“About what you saw last night…” You wring your hands, too aware of all the other players listening in.

“Listen,” Ego turns toward the team, addressing all of them at once. “My Diamonds… I don’t care what you do after dark. But if you don’t show up at your best on this field, you’ll be cut from the roster. I don’t have time for lovesick fools.”

A few of them whistle through their teeth, realizing what this must be about.

Shoei glares at them until they stop before marching over until he’s by your side.

“Hear that?” He asks, barely able to contain the satisfied smirk. “You’re safe. I always play at my best.”

“Shut up,” you tell him, trying to sound stern but failing miserably. “You’ll just trip over your own Ego.”

“Never,” he promises, before kissing you, the whistling and whooping players around him be damned.

[dw-squirrel]

Uhh untitled debriel piece. Unedited, but I will probably come back and edit it more later. :) It's kinda like- a snippet? Should I like write this out as a full length story? 🤔

(a tad bit inspired by a debriel rp with my fiancé)

Before he even had to ask, Gabe would tell Dean he's loved. Before he had a chance to question, Gabe would tell Dean he's enough. He'll always be enough.

The questions and doubts still arise, but they work through it together. Somedays were harder than others. But there rarely comes a night where these two go to bed wondering if they're loved. They feel it, not just in words, but actions. The little things.

"You're all I ever wanted and more. More than enough, better than I deserve..." Dean would say as he kissed Gabe goodnight. The words left unspoken would be- 'i feel like we're writing a chick flick now.'

Gabe would smile, returning the kiss and similar words. "you're the only one I'll ever want. If I had to do things over again, I will always choose you. Always look for you. You're my person, I love you."

These quiet moments would only be kept between them. Not wanting others to see just how sappy and emotional they could get. Yet most everyone already knows. It's not really a secret anymore.

--------------

Being an archangel, Gabriel didn't need sleep. But he would lay with Dean for a while. Holding him and keeping the nightmares away. His husband had been haunted by nightmares ever since before they'd met.

Gabriel promised he would do anything to assure Dean wouldn't have to experience another nightmare.

In the mornings, they'd make breakfast together. The archangel technically didn't need to eat. But he enjoyed the special moments of the late morning hours, cooking breakfast. Never early morning, Dean was not a morning person. Unless there was a pot of coffee ready.

He'd enjoy listening to Dean talk about whatever plans he had for the day or any funny things he had forgotten to tell him the night before. He'd listen as the retired hunter went on and on about how good the food was.

It would be the same breakfast they made every morning. Bacon, eggs and pancakes. Though sometimes they'd switch it up and make muffins instead of pancakes.

Dean made the bacon, Gabe hated making bacon. Simply because he hated if the grease popped him, he was an archangel it wouldn't leave any scars or hurt much- but he was still a bit of a baby about it. He admitted that. So Dean made the bacon, the first piece to get done always was split in half for the two to share.

The days would generally remain the same, occasional bumps along the way. But they'd fallen into a routine. They opened the bakery in the morning after they ate their own breakfast. They'd work there til lunch, then hand it over to their employees to work and close in the evening.

After leaving the bakery, they'd take their lunch break then head over to the bar. Yeah, they ran two places. The bakery was Gabe's, the bar was Dean's. They shared ownership of course, but Gabe was more in charge of the bakery, while Dean was more in charge at the bar.

When the day started to come to a close, it would once again end on a positive note. Sappy love notes or words spoken aloud. It was the first taste of normalcy that Dean had experienced in years.

-------

He married an archangel, he was safe here. They didn't hunt as often, unless a huge threat came up like an apocalypse level threat. For Dean it was hard to adjust.

Gabe always hated fighting, he wanted no part in it unless it was absolutely necessary and even then it was difficult to convince him to join a fight. Dean however had grown up a hunter and this was all he ever knew.

There were times he'd snuck out on a hunting trip. But sneaking out when you're married to an archangel is kinda- well it didn't go unnoticed. Gabe knew Dean had left. They'd fought over it a few times. He would fear one of these times Dean wouldn't come back.

Dean always came back, generally with little to no injuries. But the scariest time would be when Dean hadn't checked in for several days. Gabriel tried to give him his space to do what he wanted to do.

But the second he knew he'd almost lost him, the archangel begged the hunter to stop going out to fight the supernatural. "Please, Dean. I. Can't. Lose. You."

"you won't, I know what I'm doing," Dean would reply.

"it makes no difference. I know you know what you're doing. Skilled or not, it's a risk going out there. A risk I hate that you're still taking and you almost died, Dean! You almost died! Do you have any idea how scared I was?"

He hadn't seen Gabriel cry often, but the tears were starting to form..Dean only stared, not saying a word yet.

"You are my husband, De. I have never- never loved anyone or anything more than I love you. I would do anything and everything to protect you. Tear the whole world apart to find my way to you, but that doesn't mean we should keep getting into situations where I would have to do something like that! We're safe here. Why can't you just stay here?"

"someone has to fight monsters.."

"and why does that someone have to be you?!" More tears had filled the archangels eyes. "Why Dean? Why? Haven't you already sacrificed enough of your life to this? We were supposed to get out. Sam is out, he's safe and enjoying himself. Why can't- why aren't you allowed to do the same?"

Dean would be silent for some time, trying to come up with an answer. Eventually replying with, "I can't get out. No one ever gets out permanently. It's just a part of me I can't run away from or ignore...I'm sorry."

The archangel nodded, a part of him understanding. Though he wished it wouldn't be like this. "Just please be safe, De. I can't lose you," he said the second time those words would be spoken in this conversation. "I love you."

"I love you too," Dean would reply as he took a step closer and wrapped his arms around the older man.

"if this is gonna continue though, the sneaking at least has to stop. Hunt if you have to, just tell me, please."

The request was valid of course, Dean always felt bad for leaving without saying a word. He nodded, agreeing.

The hunts became less frequent though. Something about how scared Gabe had been, stuck with Dean. How terrified Gabe was of losing him. He didn't want to cause his husband any pain or grief. So he started hunting less and less.

He'd go out if there was something nearby. He always came home. Dean was basically retired from hunting now.

Retired and living a somewhat normal life, married to an archangel. Yeah- maybe not normal. How many people could say they were married to an archangel?

[your-sweet-cookies]

🥱

SEND 📞 + AN EMOJI BELOW FOR A VOICEMAIL MY MUSE LEFT FOR YOUR MUSE

Before going to bed, Kukki always makes sure to leave Hinata a goodnight voicemail, even if she's incredibly tired, because she knows this is going to help her brother fall asleep easier if he hears her calm and soothing voice on the other end. "Hi Hini! Ready for your good night bedtime story and lullaby? Tonight's song is... "You'll be in my heart"! But first the day's story." Kukki goes on to tell Hinata about her day's positive events which he missed or hasn't been caught up on.

"And then I went with Niragi on a cute little trip in which he showed me a really beautiful waterfall hidden deep within the forest, afterwards I spray-painted some artistic graffiti together with Cass; tried a new muffins recipe with Kuina; leant some ne parkour tricks from Sayuri and pulled a funny prank on Takeru with Narumi!" Kukki's giggle can be heard, followed by a sleepy yawn afterwards. "Okay, if you aren't asleep by now, I will sing you the lullaby now! Good night and the sweetest of dreams big bro!" And the last thing that follows is her gentle soft humming, before Kukki too falls prey to her own exhaustion and finally falls asleep.

[social-muffin]

I actually have 70 khr fanfictions on Ao3. Most of them are Skull-centric, so if you frequent the Skull Tags, maybe you know some of my stories for him! :D

Oh gosh 1880 is a source of joy absolutely! I like. Making them more evenly matched. There is something poetic to be found, in Kyoya being the happier out of the two actually. And him using his own happiness to drag Takeshi out of his darkness.

Yes, I have a fanfiction planned of the two in which Hibari actively engages with Baseball, because it makes Yama happy. I just. Need to get through the difficulty of the post writer's block gunk. :/

Which reminds me! I do have another writing specific Ask Blog in which I post feel-good Drabbles/Goodnight stories frequently! There is some Skull and Hibari content in there. Just check out @ask-skull-and-muffin!!

Yes I have a few fandom blogs 🙃 tho the last one to be mentioned is just an smol, ongoing Story Ask Blog called @ask-kyoya-hibari-and-kyo-kun. Which is. Not subtle with who my fave is lmao.

Hello, KHR Fandom! Looking for people to follow.

Trying to get back into using tumblr more often, so I'd like to introduce myself to my favorite fandom.

My name is Lari and I'm in my mid-twenties. I've been in the KHR fandom for over a decade now. My favourite characters are Fran, Mammon, Chrome, Belphegor, and Verde. I am very ship friendly, OC friendly, and the only character I dislike is Iemitsu but even he's growing on me lmao.

Anyway, I am looking for KHR fans to follow! I'd like to get back into the fandom like I was a decade ago, where I was sharing headcanons and plot ideas and all that jazz. If you have any suggestions, or if you just like or reblog this post, I will likely follow you!

Note: I am against harassment, TERFs, and I am very pro-fiction, so please understand this when you interact with my post.

[ramp-it-up]

Chris Evans

Imagines (RPF)

AdorkableChris777*

You meet Chris and don’t know it. What happens next?

Choices *

It’s the first weekend alone with your husband after childbirth. What do you choose to do? The choice is yours.

Don’t Touch My Hair*

Even though he’s your crush, Chris can run off at the mouth sometimes.

Shorts Story

Beauty turns into a beast when you see Chris in this shorts.

Sorry, Not Sorry*

Is someone going to be sorry they were a brat? Maybe. Maybe not.

Asks

Maëlle

A German exchange student catches Chris’s eye.

Easy *

It was absolutely necessary to write a CE drabble due to his piano thirst trap. How I Met Your Father universe.

Peek

You’re cooking up something good for Chris.

TikTok Challenge

You prank Chris.

Mountaintop

Chris takes you there.

Warm You Up

Chris says goodnight..

It’s Over

If you and Chris had just communicated, none of this would be happening.

Chubby Dumpling

Chris misses his chubby dumpling.

Work from Home

When Chris works from the kitchen table, you get to as well.

Kitty Kat

A Kitten is eagerly awaiting Chris when he gets home.

Santa, Daddy

Thanks to a bet with Scott, you are Santa’s helper for the night.

A Blessing

A drabble inspired by buzzcut Chris.

Series

Again Series

You do it again and again and again…

Bottle Rocket Series

Seb is your Daddy. But you also want Chris to be your Sir.

The Customer Series

Chris is a bit of a fuck boy. But everyone knows how he feels about you, his favorite interior designer

The Fit and the Feel Series

You’re caught between a rock and a hard body. Chris and Henry.

How I Met Your Father Series

Your kids ask you how you and their dad met. It’s a funny story.

The List Series (Dark! Chris)

Chris loves you, but he goes too far. How long until you find out, and will it be too late?

The Princess & Mr. Evans Series*

You interview Chris for your dissertation and it’s love at first sight. The journey to the altar and beyond is like a fairy tale.

A Starting Point Series

You are Chris’ Director of Diversity at A Starting Point. And he’s in love with you.

———————————————————

Chris Evans Characters

Andy Barber

The Bar AU Series

Barkeep! Andy + You = ❤️‍🔥. How does your fellow bartender Frank factor into the equation?

Andrew & Princess Muffin Series

You were Andy’s paralegal. Now you’re his everything.

Ransom Drysdale

The Minx Series

You are cute, smart, and have one man in your sights. Ransom Drysdale

Lloyd Hansen

The Perfect Shot

It’s just another day at work as Lloyd’s intern.

TEACH ME + R U SHY?

More than just candy hearts, Lloyd gets his just desserts.

Jake Jensen

Angel Baby Series

Jake finds his perfect girl, you, but you’ve already found him.

Great Minds

To Jake, protecting you as an asset means more than just keeping you safe.

Ari Levinson

Little One*

Dom Ari teaches you a lesson in front of his friends.

Ari Love

Ari is your superior for this mission. Will you both survive the training?

My Favorite Things

Ari is your best friend in town. Could he be a little more?

Personal Growth

Ari was learning a lot of things about himself in this leadership program. Thing #1: He was a simp for you.

Johnny Storm

Make it Hot

Johnny just wants to make it up to you.

Cassandra’s Muse

Johnny, Wade (Deadpool) and Logan (Wolverine) experience your professional skills in the void. Together.

Steve Rogers

One-Shots

Call me Captain When I…

You were Steve's subordinate, but you'd met as friends. And Steve needs your help with something.

Mood

You and Steve were “special” friends. Until something that happens on one of your training missions puts Steve into a mood. In the same universe as Call Me Captain When I…

The Sweetest Nectar (w/ Sam Wilson)

Steve is pining for you and the fact that you are Sam’s girl doesn’t mean a thing.

Series

All the Stars Series (w/Clark Kent)

Angst. Smut. Cheating. Choices.

Always and Forever Series

The team finds you. You find love with Steve. Then he leaves. And then you find love with Bucky. Will you make the right choices?

The Greatest Series

You are your superstar little sister, Aria’s, publicist. She sets you up on a blind date with Pilot Steve Rogers. You two get along like oil and water, but it’s fire and desire with just one bed when you all go on Aria’s honeymoon in romantic Italy.

Sugar is Sweet Series

Steve and Bucky. You’re caught in the middle but these two friends don’t share, they compete. Who will win? And will it be you?

Sugar, Cubed Series x

Revisiting Sugar and the boys from the Sugar is Sweet series, and Bucky and Steve sure have grown up from their college days. They are no longer playing around. They are coming for you. How do you choose? And do you have to?

This Thing of Ours AU (w/ Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson)

This band of brothers by choice are running a crime syndicate while managing the women in their lives. Let’s see if they survive love and the mob. Includes Try a Little Tenderness.

The Avengers

Shield High School Faculty AU

What happens when hot, horny teachers get together?

Those Who Seek Release— One shot

You hang out with the crew and decide to chemically unwind. What could happen?

108

[nextdoor-neighbors]

Sweet Revenge

Request: hi babes! ur writing is amazing! i was wondering if i could request a fred x reader where reader and fred get into a fight over fred being flirty with other girls and the next morning reader is in a very revealing outfit and makes all the boys (harry ron george neville and even draco if you’d like) jealous all day and ignores fred and u can choose how it ends!

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Some sexual content near the end

“Nice one, Y/N!”

“Yeah, that was awesome!”

You smile proudly at your patronus. It was the first time, after hours upon hours of trying both during and after Dumbledore’s Army meetings, that you were able to successfully produce your patronus. You stand with Ginny and Hermione, who are as excited as you are. You turn to see if Fred, your boyfriend, had seen your success. After all, he was the one you’d been complaining to about not being able to do it, so you hope that he saw you finally succeed.

Instead, you’re met with Fred standing across the room, surrounded by the Gryffindor Chasers and a few other girls, who are all giggling at something he said. You watch, your heart dropping, as he sends a wink in Angelina Johnson’s direction before going back to whatever story he was animatedly telling them.

You can’t believe him. There’s no way you’re going to be able to produce your patronus again - at least not now, with anger building in your chest. Fred is a very friendly, very flirty person, and you’ve known that, since before you started dating. And it’s not that you ever expect his attention all the time, but to flirt openly with other girls with you in the same room?

You turn back to Hermione and Ginny, who noticed, too. Both girls have a scowl on their faces.

“That git,” Ginny grumbles, “I’ll hex him, if you want. Actually, I don’t care if you want me to or not. I’ll do it anyway.”

“No, no, Gin, it’s fine,” you say, “I’ll talk to him after the meeting.”

“Let me know when you’re done. I still want to hex him for being an idiot.”

Ginny’s protectiveness of you, despite you being a year older than her, makes you laugh a little. The two of you were friends before Fred and you started dating, so naturally, the relationship came with lots of threats and warnings from Ginny to Fred about what she’d do to him if he ever hurt you. But still, you want to approach this situation on your own.

The meeting ends soon afterwards, and you go to leave the room without waiting for Fred, the image of him flirting with the group of girls burned in your memory.

“Hey, Y/N, wait up!”

You keep walking, your stomach twisting as you hear his footsteps growing closer.

“Hey,” Fred repeats as he reaches you, his tone breathy after his run down the hall. You don’t even look over at him.

“Hi,” you say shortly.

“Are you upset?” he asks, “Were you not able to produce your patronus again? You’ll get it one of these days, I know-“

“No, I did it,” you interrupt, your tone still flat and uninterested.

“Y/N, that’s great! Then why are you-“

“You were just too busy flirting with other girls to notice,” you finish, cutting him off again.

He goes silent, and you risk a glance over at him. You know that he knows exactly what he was doing, and that’s what makes you so upset. But now, he looks slightly dumbfounded, as if he didn’t think it would affect you.

“And so what?” he finally says, turning to look at you, a hard look in his eyes. “It’s not like... It’s not like I was doing anything wrong, y’know, like, like... like cheating-“

“Really?” you ask, stopping in your tracks in the middle of the hallway. The two of you took the longer path back to Gryffindor Tower, so you really hoped that nobody was going to come down this way, too.

“We are in a relationship, Fred, in case you forgot!” you continue, your voice growing louder as your anger spills out, both at the initial flirting and now, at his horrible response. “You can’t just flirt with other girls! It’s still shitty to do!”

Fred just looks at you for a minute, his face mirroring your anger, before turning to walk away.

“I was just telling them a story,” he says, defensively, “And I’m sorry I missed your patronus, but I can’t be paying attention to you every second, okay? I have other friends to talk to.”

“I’m aware, Fred. I’m glad you have plenty of friends to talk to, but talking to them is different than openly flirting with them! And with me in the same room? Why would you do that?”

He doesn’t respond as you approach the common room. He grumbles the password to the Fat Lady, and you follow him silently into the common room. It’s mostly quiet besides a few younger girls sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace and giggling to each other.

“Look,” Fred says, quietly, turning around to face you. “I’m sorry I made you upset. I just think that you overreacted-“

“No, Fred,” you reply, trying to keep your voice as quiet as possible so that the girls on the couch don’t overhear, but in your anger, it’s extremely hard. “You should’ve thought about what you were doing first. Now, I’m tired, so I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

You walk past him, up to your room, not bothering to stay and hear him say goodnight in return or turn around to look at him over your shoulder. You’re too frustrated with him right now, and you already have a plan for tomorrow to get back at him. You know you shouldn’t, and that it’s petty, but if you’re completely honest with yourself, you think it’ll be a little fun.

Once you’re up to your room, you give a very short rundown of the situation to Hermione before going to bed. It takes you a while to fall asleep as you toss and turn, thoughts of Fred flirting with the other girls and then defending himself with that firey look in his eyes filling your head as you drift off

-

You wake up early the next morning to properly choose your outfit. Unfortunately, it’s a schoolday, but you can work with that.

You choose your shortest skirt and tighest shirt, making sure to leave the top few buttons undone. You’ll fix yourself up before class, but you have all of breakfast to work on your plan. Next, you sit yourself down on your bed, pulling up your knee-high socks. You then let your undone tie rest over your shoulders and pull on your robe, letting it hang open to display your outfit choice. You actually look pretty good, if you do say so yourself. You’re normally so careful to wear your uniform properly at all times, and even on weekends, you usually still wear outfits that cover you up a good amount, so you’re sure to catch some eyes today.

“Good mor-... Oh. Wow.”

Hermione looks you up and down a few times before meeting your eyes with a slight smirk.

“You’re trying to get a reaction out of Fred, aren’t you?”

You smile. “Do you think it’ll work?”

“Absolutely.” Hermione looks you over once again. “You’re going to drive him mad. Let me get ready and I’ll walk down to breakfast with you. I want to see this.”

You know that most of the boys would be down at breakfast by the time you and Hermione got there, because that’s how it usually goes, which works perfectly for your plan.

Once Hermione is dressed and ready, books tucked under her arm per usual, the two of you head down to the common room. Ginny sits, perched on the armrest of one of the chairs, waiting. When she sees you and Hermione approaching, she hops off the armrest. Her eyes widen at you and she whistles.

“Something tells me this new look has to do with Fred? I’m not complaining at all, but you better fill me in.”

You explain the situation to Ginny as the three of you make your way to the Great Hall.

“Hermione’s right,” she says, “Fred’s gonna go crazy with all the boys who are gonna be checking you out today. Girls, too.” She winks at you, which makes both you and Hermione laugh.

Your eyes go right to the Gryffindor table as you walk into the Great Hall, where you see Fred, sitting between George and Ron, with Harry next to Ron, and Lee Jordan next to George. It’s a perfect setup, because there’s three spots waiting across from them for you, Hermione, and Ginny, between Neville and Dean Thomas.

The only one from that group who looks up as you walk in is Harry. His eyes widen as he looks at you, and some water drips down his chin from the goblet he was drinking from. You can’t help but laugh.

“Might have to take a few notes from you to get Harry’s attention like that,” Ginny teases quietly as the three of you approach the table. You take the middle seat, across from Fred, and Hermione and Ginny take the seats on either side of you.

“Good morning, boys,” Ginny says, loudly, interrupting their conversation.

All eyes turn to Ginny, but immediately drift over to you. You watch as Ron’s eyes drop to your chest, and he blushes deeply before looking up to your face again.

“Lookin’ good, Y/N,” Lee says, loudly, to which George elbows him, probably because he can already feel the anger radiating off of his twin.

You look at Fred, finally, who has his jaw set as he looks you over, but he stays silent.

“Thank you, Lee.” You smile sweetly at him before dropping your eyes to grab some food.

As you bite into a muffin, you look back up to George, who’s already looking at you. He raises his eyebrows at you when Fred isn’t looking, as if to say, what the hell are you doing?

You simply wink at him in return, just as Fred glances over at you. But you avoid Fred’s eyes, looking back down to your breakfast.

Once you finish eating, you stand up.

“I have to head back to my room to get my things before class. I’ll see you guys later.” You smile at everyone, again avoiding looking at Fred. You know that you’re pissing him off, especially by ignoring him, but it’s almost like a game now.

“Y/L/N-“

You turn towards the voice as you leave the Gryffindor table to see Draco Malfoy walking towards you. Now that’s a surprise, and if there’s anything that’s going to make Fred completely lose it, it’s Malfoy talking to you.

Draco looks you up and down as he approaches, and you keep walking out of the Great Hall, nonverbally telling him that if he wants to talk to you, he’ll have to follow, which is exactly what he does.

“You still dating Weasley?” he asks, a smirk on his face. You roll your eyes.

“Yes, I am, and if you’ve just come to insult my boyfriend to me, I’ll hex you. Again.”

Panic flits across Draco’s face momentarily as he, no doubt, remembers an incident between the two of you a few months prior. Soon enough, it’s gone, and his smirk is back as he shoves his hands into his pants pockets.

“No, I just came to say that when you inevitably get sick of him and all of his equally annoying siblings, you can come find me.”

“You just insulted him. Not only him, but his siblings, who happen to be some of my best friends,” you point out, more annoyed than anything. You’re not actually going to hex him (this time), but it’s fun to see his reaction when you threaten it.

Draco scoffs. “Considering what I could say about them, annoying is practically a compliment. I’m just saying-“ He looks you up and down once again- “I’m sure I could show you a much better time than Weasley.”

You roll your eyes again as you approach the stairs that will lead you up to your common room. “Keep dreaming, Malfoy.”

You part ways from him, heading back to your room and grabbing your books for your first few classes. You look at yourself in the mirror as you fix up your uniform. As much fun as you’re having, you also don’t want house points taken away.

When you head back down to the common room, you’re surprised to see that Fred isn’t there. You’d been expecting him to follow you and give you some sort of reaction, and you were slightly disappointed that he didn’t. Although, that’s probably because Ginny is chewing him out at the breakfast table. You wouldn’t put it past her to call him out in front of everyone, which was something you’d always admired about your best friend.

You know you won’t see Fred again really until lunch, so the morning drags by. You sit by Neville in Transfiguration, and he gets slightly flustered when you strike up a conversation with him.

Surprisingly, Fred isn’t at lunch, which worries you a bit. You ask George where he is, and he just shrugs and says he had something to do, which is completely unlike him.

The afternoon drags by just as the morning did, and instead of going straight to dinner after last period, you make a beeline for the common room, hoping to catch Fred. After not talking to him all day and getting attention from every boy except for him, your anger at him has subsided for the most part, and now, you just miss him. Of course, you’re not going to let his actions from yesterday slide, but you want to talk it through with him.

Thankfully, he’s in the common room with George. They’re on the couch, talking amongst themselves about products for their shop. Fred looks up at you as you walk over, but you can’t read his expression very well past the furrow of his eyebrows. George glances up and quickly closes up the suitcase they’d been holding between them, whispering something to Fred before leaving.

“Hi,” you say - the first thing you’ve said directly to him all day.

“Hey.” He looks extremely good: he’s in his school shirt still, the top few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, displaying his freckled forearms. His hair is messy, just like it always is after he runs his fingers through it when he’s stressed. He chews on his lip as his eyes scan your body. Your robe hangs over your arm, so you’re left in your tight shirt and short skirt.

“I know what you were doing today. It’s because of what I did yesterday, right?”

He doesn’t sound defensive, as you expected him to. Instead, he sounds... defeated, almost. You walk around the couch to sit next to him, taking the spot where George was. Fred immediately reaches out, resting his hand on your knee.

“Yeah,” you admit, “I wanted to make you jealous.”

He waits to respond as a group of fourth year boys walks through the common room to leave. Once they’re gone, he says,

“Well, it definitely worked. Nobody could keep their eyes off of you. And it made me realize...” He lets out a deep sigh. “How stupid I was yesterday. You were right. You, and George, and Ginny, and everyone else who called me out on it. I’m really sorry, princess. I hope you can forgive me.”

You know Fred well enough to know that he really means it. And while you forgive him, you can’t help but want to rile him up again, just for fun.

“I forgive you,” you reply. “Does this mean you’re not mad about Malfoy flirting with me and telling me that he can show me a better time than you can?”

Fred reacts instantly, sitting up straighter and his hand tightening on your knee. There’s a glint in his eye that you recognize very well.

“He did what now? That little-“

He cuts himself off, and instead, a smirk forms on his lips as he grabs you, and in one swift movement, pulls you on to his lap. Once you’re on his lap, your skirt hiking up your thighs, he grabs your hips tightly and leans towards you, lips against your ear.

“As if he - or anyone who was checking you out today - could make you feel better than I do.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words and at his body pressed against yours. He may piss you off sometimes, and you may piss him off in return, but at the end of the day, he’s yours and you’re his. And you wouldn’t want it to be any other way.

“Oh yeah?” You grind down against his growing bulge, and he lets out a low groan. Everyone else is definitely at dinner by this time, so the two of you are safe with the common room to yourselves. You smirk at him.

“Then show me.”

[dreamwritesimagines]

I really like the HC that alot of mobsters know Peaches and her family because of the bakery and she's sorta like a well loved background character in their lives, so she could be walking late one night and some guys start to follow her to mug her but then they realize who she is and:

"Give me all your shit or- oh, fuck, bakery girl? Wassup girl, what are you doing this late out. Late shift? Yeah same, same. I damn near almost got you, my bad. No hard feelings though, right? Nice, nice, yo, l'm so sorry, here you go. Listen, any other motherfucker around here gives you shit, you just tell me. Yeah, no, have a goodnight, sorry for the mix up. Tell your dad i said hi"

And Peaches would've been freaked out the firsy few times but as the years went by it's just "ah, an honest mistake"

I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS IDEA OMG THIS NEEDS TO HAPPEN IN THE STORY😂😂

I think it'd happen especially if they have new members or something so some new guy would stop her but the older member would rush there and go like,

"I'm gonna smack you new guy- sorry about this bakery girl, he's still learning."

"What the-"

"No problem at all, hi Johnny! How's your grandma?"

"She's good! She told me to thank you for the muffins you sent her by the way."

"Oh no problem at all! Did you try them?"

"Just one, my brothers ate the rest."

"Mm we can't have that, I'm sending you a new batch this weekend okay?"

"You're an angel."

"...Are muffins code for something else?"

"No dude, they're not."

"Oh I'll send you a basket, your new friend can try them too."

[ask-skull-and-muffin]

Goodnight Story #9

[Plain Text: "Goodnight Story #9" bigger and cursive /end pt]

Today was supposed to be a normal, peaceful day for Verde. Unfortunately, Skull, Reborn and Fon somehow ended up bored. So Verde has some slightly annoying company.

Skull is still inspecting Verde's forging oven, naively crawling halfway inside it, unnecessarily fascinated with the way it's set up. Of course Reborn pushes the door shut, making Skull squawk in surprise, before addressing Verde much too nonchalantly. "What are you drawing?"

Verde doesn't look up from his work, calmly continuing to sketch, even as Fon hovers over his shoulder, curiously watching him work. Verde just barely remembers Reborn likes to have his questions answered. "Schematics."

Fon hums inquisitively, shaking his head just a tiny bit. He would not be able to read half of the Italian Verde used in this schematic, so his confusion is understandable. "No... No that's a human arm."

Verde doesn't sigh, but he wants to. Fon is just curious and wants to learn, his lack of a formal education is not his fault. So Verde educates him, his tone gentle. "Prosthesis, Fon. I'm designing a prosthetic arm."

Fon hums softly again, leaning just a bit closer. Verde can feel the body-heat rolling off of him now. The awe in Fon's voice is entirely genuine. "That's pretty cool. It looks... So life-like."

Of course, such a comment draws Reborn near and that man knows no personal space. Verde just huffs when Reborn drapes his weight over his shoulder, snuggling close shamelessly and taking a look himself. The momentary pause that follows really says more than enough, but Reborn voices his opinion anyways. "Are you... Sketching from memory?"

Verde hums faintly in acknowledgement, adjusting himself under Reborn's weight and once again losing himself to focus just a little. After a minute, Fon's weight is a little added surprise, but Verde honestly doesn't mind. At least they're resting on both of his shoulders now and distributing their weight more evenly.

Skull speaks up then, no longer in the Forge, instead he's admiring Verde's indoor garden. He's gently cupped his hands around a still-green orange, fascinated and endeared. "I still can't believe you build all this yourself."

This, of course, meaning the highly sophisticated watering and lighting systems that support Verde's little garden. That was one of his first private projects Verde was able to fund. It's been years since then. "I can build anything. All I need are materials and time."

Of course, Reborn has to be a little shit, sounding entirely too amused as he reminds Verde. "And money."

Verde promptly shakes Reborn and Fon off of his shoulders, frowning to himself. That reminder was unhelpful and uncalled for. Verde quickly resolves to ignore them starting now-

But Reborn sighs, over-exaggerated and impatient. You can practically hear the eyeroll and Verde turns to him, the words to tell him off already on the tip of his tongue. But...

Reborn is holding an envelope, thick with whatever is inside it. He sounds smugly amused again. "Let me finish. You need money for your projects."

Reborn offers the envelope to Verde, something distinctly fond in the look in his eyes. Fon and Skull are nearby too, looking adorably excited now. Somehow Reborn still sounds like he's teasing him. "This is for you. Happy Valentine's, you nerd."

Verde blinks rapidly, briefly glancing toward his calender, before accepting the envelope, entirely suspiscious. Fon and Skull look almost too excited. From that alone, Verde can deduce that this present was probably some kind of group effort.

Verde picks the envelope open, raising his eyebrows in surprise when he unearths an actual stack of bills. By the looks of it alone, this is at least 30.000 Euro. This might just be enough to finish Verde's next 4 projects!

Verde looks at his idiots again, his chest oddly warm, even as his voice comes out unsure and stern. "Why?"

Skull speaks up this time, fidgeting his hands together, shifting around. He's blushing, the way he does when he thinks he's in trouble. "Actually... It was Viper's idea. Cause I kept going on about... Feeling bad for breaking your glass stuff..."

Oh, yes. Months ago, when Skull was in a particularly helpful mood, he'd dropped a whole box of glassware. Several beakers, numerous vials and even some syringes and droppers where lost. But nothing particularly important was broken. Verde had told him it was fine. He'd even outright forgiven him after Skull brought him some new glassware from who knows where.

So this is just silly-

Fon gently brushes his knuckles over Verde's cheeks, pulling him out of his thoughts entirely and giving him a very warm smile. "Skull and Viper came up with the idea because of that incident. But it's supposed to be a gift first and foremost."

Reborn is standing back a bit now, his arms loosely crossed, a subtle indication he is not entirely secure with the vulnerability he is about to present. Verde sometimes wonders if Reborn is aware of his own tells actually. "We know how much you love your projects."

Skull and Fon nod their agreement and Verde blinks down at the stack of cash again. He won't reject this, cause that would be quite idiotic, but... It feels wrong to accept this much without somehow returning the favor. So, after just a moment of thought, Verde offers the one thing he can give freely. ".... Thank you very much. May I hug you?"

Skull almost chirps like a bird, nodding enthusiastically and bouncing in place. He is in Verde's arms before Verde has even fully stood up out of his seat.

Fon chuckles at Skull's eagerness, but he too nods, flushing faintly. He moves more slowly, careful to control his strength when he cuddles into Verde's embrace next to Skull.

They are both so tiny in Verde's arms, their cheeks barely rest comfortably against his shoulders. Verde makes sure to give both of them a good squeeze, placing two tiny kisses on top of their hair, before looking at the last person that has earned a hug today.

Reborn is blushing surprisingly brightly, his arms crossed just a bit tighter and he'd averted his eyes for just a moment. Verde catches his eyes when he looks at them again. Verde wordlessly gestures that Reborn can absolutely join this hug, but Reborn hesitates.

So Verde gently pats Skull's back and presses light on Fon's shoulder, slowly breaking their embrace, so both of his arms are free to accommodate Reborn. He offers the hug again, silently. And the hesitation completely leaves Reborn.

Reborn is a bit taller than Fon and Skull. He can rest his chin on Verde's shoulder quite comfortably, but he also hugs like a vice. If Verde hadn't preemptively reinforced his skin with just a touch of lightning, he might've gotten a bruise from that tight squeeze.

Instead, Verde is perfectly content like this, cuddling Reborn closer for a moment, before moving to put a kiss on the man's head. That accursed fedora gets in his way though, which very briefly gives Reborn a case of the giggles. Then Reborn tips his hat back and goes up on his tiptoes, placing the gentlest of kisses on both of Verde's cheeks.

And just like that, Reborn breaks the hug and tugs his fedora back down again to cover his expression. He's blushing and smiling and immediately turns to leave the room, because that was probably more than enough vulnerability for him, for the rest of the month.

Verde will also feel very warm and loved for about a month at least. Especially since Fon and Skull overcome their shyness and bashfully request another hug.

And it's only been a few weeks at most since the last time Verde felt this Treasured and Beloved!

.... Verde knows he's earned this affection. They all did.

[typical-simplelove]

Bragger (M. Barzal)

A/n: This is based of Kelsea Ballerini’s Bragger and a very self-indulgent fic. Enjoy!! 

Warnings: Brief mentions of sex

Word Count: 5.3k (including song lyrics)

Italics are flashbacks

“So, Yn, tell us all about Mathew. What’s he like?” Candace, your maid of honor, asks.

You look at her puzzled. “What do you mean ‘what’s he like’?”

You were sitting at your bachelorette party; you didn’t want anything too big, so you decided on brunch with some of your friends, bridal party, and the WAGs.

“I mean, tell us all about him. How happy he makes you, how he drives you crazy but in the good way. Just brag about your fiance. Today is about you so whatever you want to share.

You smile just thinking about Mathew. Yeah, you could talk about him for days. His smile. The way his hair curls over his forehead. His arms. Dear Lord, don’t get started on his arms. You were about to start but remembered Liana, Mathew’s sister, was sitting with you as well. You didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. You also didn’t really want to brag about your relationship.

“Liana, are you okay with this? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” you say. You and Liana have grown quite close during your relationship with Mathew and especially close after the proposal.

Liana just smiles. “Go ahead, bride-to-be. It is your bachelorette party. You go talk about the man you love.”

“Well, then. What do you want to know?” You say with a smirk on your face.

He's got the look, he's got the touch He's got the eyes that make me crush And he's not one to make a scene But he deserves the spotlight He ain't from 'round this side of town But he fits in to every crowd And he knows how to do my body and my heart right

Mathew Barzal. Where do you even begin? The start? The first time you kissed? The way he walks around your apartment without a shirt on because (a) he refuses to do so and (b) knows it gets you going? The beautiful eyes that make you want to melt the minute you look into them? Just the fact that he knows exactly what to do to make you weak in your knees? The fact that Mathew knows exactly what to do to make the heat rush to your face and make you flustered? The list goes on and on.

“Tell us about something he does that annoys you but you secretly love,” Tessa, your high school best friend, says. She knows exactly what you’re going to say. You have spilled this to her multiple times. However, the fact that she’s asking makes your heart grow warm, best friends forever, right?

You pretend to ruminate over what to say. You, once again, look at Liana for reassurance. You doubt she wants to hear about her brother walking around half-naked. She nods and signals you to continue. You take a deep breath; you never did like talking about yourself. “Um, well, he walks around our apartment without a shirt on all the time. Not even in the mornings after we wake up. He just refuses to ever wear a shirt.”

Some of the girls sigh. Grace, Anders’ wife, and Sydney, Matt’s wife, look at you with understanding. Hockey players really hate wearing shirts and love showing off their chests. Grace and Sydney know exactly what you’re talking about.

“He claims it’s because he knows he can get a rouse out of me, which he can, but it’s also because I don’t think he likes to wear a shirt.”

“Mathew is very proud of the way he looks,” Liana adds and you smile knowing that she knows what Mathew is like. “When he used to come home before dating you, mom had to remind him to put on a shirt.”

You laugh. “I try to tell him to put on a shirt but he always just,” you pause reminiscing the memory. “He’ll just,” you feel the rush of heat to your cheeks as you try to put the words together.

“Even without Mathew here, he’s got you flustered,” Grace says with a warm smile. She loves seeing two young people hopelessly in love.

You shake your head playfully but put on a large smile. “He’ll do this thing with his face and then kiss me in a way that knocks out my breath, and I just forget about him putting on a shirt.”

“He just gets away with not wearing a shirt? He just kisses you and that’s it?” one of your bridesmaids questions. She smirks. “My husband has to do more than just kiss me for me to forget he’s walking around without a shirt.”

“Well, no wonder you’re pregnant,” you playfully retort. She knows you’re joking, and she smiles back at you.

“You’ve got me there, ynn.” The group erupts into laughter.

“Well, then, if we’re on the topic of kissing. I’m not going to ask what happens behind the doors for your own privacy. But, what’s it like kissing Mathew?” Lila, another bridesmaid, asks.

You melt at the thought of kissing Mathew. A wide smile erupts across your face.

“Clearly he kisses tremendously well,” Liana says, and her response shocks you.

You look at her and glare at her playfully.

“I’m just making an observation. Just the thought of kissing my brother puts a giant smile on your face.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong there. I’m not sure if this is going to make sense but just here me out. When he kisses me, I never doubt he loves me. It doesn’t matter if it’s a small peck, a passionate kiss, or we’re making out. Sorry, Liana. There’s always love, and it’s almost as if it’s overflowing.”

“Oh, to be young and in love,” someone comments and everyone laughs.

“We do this thing where, assuming he’s not on a road trip, we always kiss each other good night, even if we’re angry. Yeah, I know the marriage advice. Don’t go to bed angry. Blah blah. Okay. But still. We’ll be angry and have yet to resolve the fight and just go to bed. We kiss each other goodnight angrily but the love is still there. I don’t doubt it. The way his lips linger on mine, and the gentleness despite being angry is there. I always go to bed knowing that we can sort out whatever problem we are having at the moment.”

“You guys are literally what I strive to have in a relationship,” Candace says. She wiggles her eyebrows as she says the next thing. “Any more kissing stories? Maybe some not so clean?”

You were taking a sip of your mimosa, and you choked on it. The heat immediately rushes to your face, and you know exactly what she wants. Just thinking about Mathew’s lips on anywhere else other than your lips has you turning to putty. You have to put down your glass for fears of dropping it and spilling it. These were nice glasses. You had them made that says ‘I Do Crew’, and you didn’t want to break them. Your reaction has everyone snickering.

“I hate to interject but if you’re going to talk about your sex life, I’m going to have to walk away,” Liana says. She can stomach talking about her brother kissing you but anything more than that was not something she was comfortable with.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m comfortable talking about that, especially this sober.”

“Well, then, we have to think of something else. Come on ladies, we can figure this out.” Candace says. You really didn’t like talking about yourself. You don’t want to brag because you know that not everyone can have what you have with Mathew.

I don't wanna be a bragger But my man's a heart attacker Like McConaughey and Jagger Hotter than a Saturday night I can't help it that I flaunt him (All the time) I understand why you would want him (I don't mind) And you can keep up all the chatter 'bout my happy ever after 'Cause all that really matters is he's mine

Candace is about to say something but is stopped when you get a phone call. You look at the caller ID and see that it’s Mathew.

“Speaking of the lover,” Candace says, and you glare at her. “Just answer the phone. We’ll use your reactions as a conversation point.”

You pick up the phone and instantly have a giant smile on your face as Mathew says “Hi, baby.” The girls around you hoot and holler at your grin.

“Hey,” you say back to him.

“Wow, it sounds like you’re in a hockey locker room. How’s it going? I just wanted to check on you. I’m about to head out for my event.” Tito is taking Mathew and his friends to go golfing and then a dinner tonight for Mathew’s Bachelor party.

“Yeah, it seems like that sometimes. We’re doing well. We ate already and might get some dessert in a bit.”

“What are you guys talking about?”

“Funny enough, you.”

You can’t see him but you know that there’s a giant smirk on his face. “Oh yeah? What about me are you talking about?”

“Nothing in particular. Just everything I love about you. The way you walk around the apartment without a shirt. The way you kiss.”

“Well, make sure you tell them about that thing I do with my lips that makes you moan my name in bed.” You instantly feel the heat rush to both your face and core remembering exactly what Mathew is talking about.

“We’ve established that I wasn’t going to talk about things like that and also your sister is here, so.”

“Well, I’ll let you go and also Tito is yelling at me to get going. I love you, future-Mrs.-Barzal.”

“I love you, too, future husband.” You hang up the phone with a giant smile on your face and the girls around you all smile. “What?”

Sydney smiles back at you. “The giant smile on your face. Mathew makes you really happy.”

Your smile, if possible, gets wider. “Yeah, he makes me really happy, and I love him more than anything.”

“It’s obvious,” Candace says. “Also, what did he say to tell us that we established we weren’t going to discuss?”

You feel your cheeks warm up again. You ignore Candace’s statement and turn to the chocolate-chip muffin on your plate.

“Oh come on, Ynn. Tell us.

“Um, Liana, I’m sorry you have to hear this,” you begin hesitantly. She just looks at you. “He told me to tell you guys about that thing he does in bed that um,” Liana nods for you to continue. “Makes me moan and yell his name.”

The girls just stare at you.

“I’m not going to, though. That’s, um, a rather private matter, and I feel the need to express that I am not going to elaborate.”

Liana smiles. “Hey, at least my brother knows how to make you feel good, right?”

You look at her and are surprised that she’s not completely disgusted with what you said.

“Don’t worry. I’m here as your friend not Mathew’s brother.”

“Yn, we want more, please tell us more!” another one of the girls at the table says to you. You really didn’t want to brag about your relationship with Mathew. It was strong, loving, healthy, and made you extremely happy. There was something about Mathew, however, that made you want to talk about him and put him on display.

You smile. “What do you want to know?”

I've got his nights, I've got his name There ain't no shame in this girl's game If he was yours, you'd do the same Without apologizing

The girls wanted a story from the first year in your relationship. What story to tell them? There were so many. You first thought instantly goes to the first time you ever wore his jersey and went to one of his games. You begin telling the story.

You and Mathew had been dating for almost seven months before he invited you to a game. He wanted to make sure that you weren’t with him for his money or fame, and you understood that. You never prompted him or forced him to insert yourself into his life. You let Mathew decide when he wanted to introduce to his friends and teammates. You were fully content on watching Mathew from your television on game nights.

However, one night, Mathew decided that he wanted to have you at the game. It was a home game against the Rangers, a rivalry that has a long history in New York. He bought you your tickets and told you that your seats weren’t with the other WAGs per your request. You didn’t want to sit with them quite yet until you were ready, and Mathew respected that. Also, he had yet to tell anyone on the team he was seeing anyone.

When you left for work the morning of the game, Mathew was still there. However, when you got home, he wasn’t but in his place was a jersey. Not just any jersey, however, it was Mathew’s jersey with his number and last name on it. You looked at it and smiled; you couldn’t wait to wear it for him.

About an hour later, you put on the jersey and head to the arena. When you’re seated, you finally realize how close up your seats are. You looked around and were so giddy. You were going to be watching your boyfriend, whom you were sure you were in love with, play the sport he absolutely loves.

You watched the boys come out for warm ups, and your heart swelled. He was in his element, and he looked so happy. You loved how effortlessly he made the sport look, and you loved how he interacted with his teammates. You were so caught up in watching him that you didn’t notice that Mathew was watching you. It took a few moments, but you did eventually realize, and you both laughed. You remember someone, who you now know was Anders, smacking Mathew over the shoulder.

The Islanders won that night in a overtime, and you were beyond elated. Mathew told you that he’d meet you at your car and that he did.

When you saw him, you jumped into his arms and held him tightly. “You played so well, baby.”

Mathew pulls away for a moment and looks down at you. “Yeah, well I had the woman I love in the stands and my new good luck charm.”

You pull back for a moment. Were you hearing this right? Did Mathew just tell you he loved you?

“Before you start overthinking everything and scrunch up your nose in that really adorable way, let me just confirm, yes, I do love you. Yn, I love you.”

“I wasn’t going to overthink anything, you’re wrong.”

Matthew laughs. “You know, you’re avoiding the obvious.”

You knew you were. “I thought I was pointing out the obvious.”

“Do you need me to say it again, yn?” Mathew asks.

You pretend to ponder it. “Yeah, I do, Mathew.”

“Yn, I love you.”

You smile. “I love you, too, Mathew.” You remember him leaning down and kissing you. You remember that you both had to eventually separate so that you could drive back to your place. You remember that night that you fell asleep in Mathew’s arms hopeful of what can happen one day.

“Oh yeah, I remember that,” Grace says. You look at her puzzled. “Anders, Tito, and I think Sydney and Matt were there, too. Anders said that Mathew was staring at a girl, so we all followed Mathew secretly, and we saw you guys.”

“That’s right! That did happen!” Sydney remarks.

“So, you weren’t really shocked when Mathew finally introduced me to all of you?”

“No, we really weren’t. We didn’t quite see your face, but we knew Mathew was seeing someone.” Sydney answers.

“We finally realized what was behind Mathew’s stellar playing. Anders once came home from a roadie saying that Mathew was playing extremely well and wasn’t sure what to correlate it to. Now we know, it was you.” Grace says.

Your smile reaches ear to ear.

“That’s so cute and romantic, you guys. The two of you were made for each other.” Candace dotes.

You smile. You didn’t want to brag but yes, you and Mathew were made for each other. Yes, sometimes it was hard, but you knew that at the end of the day, you and Mathew loved each other to pieces.

“Hmm. Tell us about meeting Mathew for the first time. That has to be a story.” Tessa. You smile at the memory.

You were running late. The uptown 4 train in Brooklyn was having a bunch of delays, and you didn’t have time to walk to the closest 5 train station. The 4 train heading uptown to Brooklyn Bridge finally came and you jumped on. You breathed a sigh of relief as the train rolled away from the station. However, you became aggravated when it stopped in the middle of the tunnel, and an announcement came that the train would be moving shortly. Yeah, you knew what that meant. You could either be moving again in two minutes or two hours.

Twenty minutes passed, and your feet were starting to ache. You really wished that you wore flats on your commute and then changed into your heels at work.

“Did you want to sit?” someone asked. You remember looking up. “Your feet look like they’re killing you, did you want to sit? I don’t mind standing.”

“Oh, um, no it’s okay, I’m good.” You remember saying.

“No, really, I insist,” he insisted.

You shake your head. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“So, then, if I stand up, you’re not going to sit down?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No, someone else can sit,” you remember saying. You weren’t one to take up offers like this out of respect for the other person, and you were also very stubborn.

He chuckles and sighs. “Can you just sit? I don’t know why you won’t take up the offer of my generosity. I just don’t think you’re really all that comfortable.”

You hesitate.

“What if,” he proposes. “I got up and said I wanted to stretch my legs, and you just took up the opportunity to sit?”

You look at him and are about to say something, but he gets up and mumbles something about needing to stretch his legs. He gives you a knowing look (one that you’ve grown to love). and you know you are going to sit. So, you sit. You breathe a sigh of relief, and he laughs softly.

“See, was that so hard?”

You look at him and grumble. “No.”

He laughs and time passes quickly. It only took thirty more minutes after this for the train to start moving. You exited the Brooklyn Bridge - City Hall station ninety minutes after you would have liked. You were fast walking because you had to catch the Uptown 3 train.

“Hey, wait,” you don’t think this person is talking to you, so you keep walking. He taps your shoulder, and you finally turn around. “I know this is weird, but can I get your number?”

You remember looking at him shocked and he laughed at you.

“I’m Mathew, and there’s something about you that I want to get to know better.”

For some reason, that cheesy line made you smile, and you gave him your number. And, as they say, the rest is history.

“Wait, Mathew took the subway?” Liana asks puzzled.

“Yeah, he said that he was running late for meeting Tito, and he thought taking the subway would be faster. Clearly, it wasn’t.” You explain.

“Oh, Yn, give us more stories about you and Matthew,” one of the girls says.

You smile softly. You really weren’t sure what else more to say. You really didn’t want to brag about your relationship with Mathew. The constant theme in your relationship was that you kept private things private. Mathew was private in the sense of the media, and you were just a private person all around. But, something about today and the girls asking made you want to spill literally everything.

“I’d ask about the proposal, but Mathew has shared that a million times,” Candace jokes. “Just give us a random story that makes you laugh or smile.”

“I can give you that,” you say. You ruminate for a moment and begin.

Matthew was spending the weekend with you because he didn’t have any games, and they just came off of a two week road trip. You guys missed each other, and, at the stage your relationship was at, being without each other for even an hour was unbearable. This was not to say, though, that it was easy to be apart now. Only, now, you both have learned to find a way to make that pain ease a bit.

It was 12:34pm on a Saturday, and you were hungry for lunch. Mathew said he was taking you out for his favorite sushi place and told you to eat a light lunch. So, you were going to make some avocado toast. No, nothing fancy. The basic summary was that you had pumpernickel bread and a ripe avocado that might go bad soon.

You retreat from the warmth of Mathew, the pillows, and blankets to make some toast. You didn’t hear Mathew follow you; you actually didn’t think he was going to considering you told him you’d just bring it to him. You put the bread in the toaster and pulled out a knife to cut the avocado. You waited for a few minutes as the bread toasted. You looked out into the living room but didn’t see Mathew. You figured that he went to the washroom.

The toaster dings, and the toast pops out. You put the toast on the plate and begin cutting the avocado to spread onto the toast. Suddenly, you feel two very strong arms snake around your waist. It’s Matthew, who else?

“You cut your avocado weirdly,” he says, and you just look at him.

What? “What?”

“You cut the avocado weirdly.”

You snicker. “What is a not weird way to cut your avocado?”

“I don’t know, I just know you cut it weirdly.”

“Why can’t it be that I cut it normally, and you cut it weirdly?”

“Because, yn, you need a weird thing.”

You giggle. “Why do I need a weird thing?”

“Because all people in a relationship have a weird thing that only the other person in it knows.”

“So, you’re telling me that my weird thing is that I cut avocados weirdly?”

“Mhm, exactly.” Mathew takes a piece of toast with avocado already on it and bites into it.

“Despite that, though, you still make very tasty avocado toast, babe.”

“Well, if my weird thing is about cutting avocado, what’s you weird thing?”

“I don’t know, you have to figure it out on your own.”

You remember smiling and then kissing his cheek. Dinner that night did not disappoint, and Mathew brought you to the right restaurant.

“Did you ever figure out what his weird thing was?” Sydney asks.

“I mean, no? But, like, the way I cut the avocado is not weird, so I’m not sure what he was getting at. I told him that the way he ties his shoes was weird.”

“Not the skates?” Grace asks.

“No, not the skates. I told him that there was a difference between the skates and the shoes.”

The girls laugh. “How did you do that? Isn’t it the same?” Candace asks. “It is, but he wouldn’t tell me why the avocado cutting was weird, so I did this. He took me to the rink the day after I told him and forced me to watch him tie his skates like ten times. I guess it’s what I deserve.”

“That was a cute story. As my future sister-in-law, I want to say, I’m glad Mathew has you in his life.” Liana says.

You smile. “I can drink to that.” You all clink your glasses and take a sip.

You loved these girls and were so glad that you got to celebrate your Bachelorette with them. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

If he were a wine, he'd be the shelf at the top (Top) If he were a house, he'd be the end of the block (Block) Walked up to my heart and went, "Knock, knock, knock" So I've got to show him off

You got home that day at 4:00 pm and before Mathew. You were expecting that; Tito told you that Mathew and the boys would be out later only because their day started later. You went into your bedroom and changed out of your bride-to-be outfit and into your comfortable clothes. You took off your makeup and put your hair in a comfortable style. You were going to use the time to open some of the invitations you’ve received and mark down their attendance and meal choices.

Constantly, though, your mind went straight to Mathew. Every thought you had went back to Mathew but not in a sophomoric, conceited way. In a way that expressed your true love for him and how you felt. You didn’t like talking about your relationship with Mathew often; you enjoyed the privacy, and it allowed you to grow as a person both in the relationship and outside it.

However, this didn’t mean that you didn’t want to talk about Mathew all the time. You knew that if you didn’t control yourself, you’d be one of those girls that brought up her boyfriend at the most random times. You also knew that those types of girls were annoying, so you tried not to be like that.

That didn’t mean you didn’t let your mind wander to those places. Mathew was amazing. Sure, there were some flaws, but the great things about him enormously outweighed the flaws. Mathew had the most beautiful hazel eyes you have ever seen. Even if you had friends who hazel eyes, their eye color didn’t match Mathew’s, nothing could. He could be doing the most mundane task or thing and you’d immediately fall more in love. No question about it.

Physically? Mathew had the body of a Greek god and that drove your crazy. When he constantly walked around with a shirt on? You had to force yourself not to jump up and kiss him or run your hands down his broad, firm chest. When you both sat on the couch and he didn’t have a shirt on, you absolutely adored just running your hand up and down his abs as if it were a pillow. Yeah, you wanted to shout from your balcony that you had a hot boyfriend, no, fiance now, that you loved. You loved running your fingers through his hair. There was softness that was indescribable. His hair was rough but also soft at the same time. You constantly wanted to be touching him. All the time. You just needed to be close to Mathew at all times. You didn’t want to say you were clingy because you weren’t. You were just in love and wanted to be in the presence with him at all times. You loved to tell Mathew that you felt so lucky that you got to even be in the same universe as him. He laughed and said the fact that he got to even get your number was remarkable to him.

You were both crazy about each other and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

I don't wanna be a bragger But my man's a heart attacker (Oh, he is) Like McConaughey and Jagger Hotter than a Saturday night I can't help it that I flaunt him (All the time) I understand why you would want him (I don't mind) And you can keep up all the chatter 'bout my happy ever after 'Cause all that really matters is he's mine

Mathew got home that night at 9:32.

“Oh, you’re home early,” you said, and he came down and sat next to you.

Mathew smirked. “Hiding me from your boyfriend?”

Your face turns warm. “No, I just thought that you’d want to celebrate the last of your bachelor years with the boys instead of at home with me.”

“I celebrated my bachelor years already; now I’m coming home and celebrating what my future holds.”

You smile. “Look at you, Mathew Barzal; don’t you know the way into a girl’s heart.”

“I only want your heart, babe,” Mathew says and then kisses you. “How was your day with the girls?”

“It was nice. Oh! Did you know that Anders, Matt, Tito, Grace, and Sydney knew we were dating before you began officially hinting at it and introduced me?”

“What?”

“Yeah! I was telling them about the first time I went to one of your games, and Grace said they caught on to you staring at a girl. She was saying that they followed you secretly and saw us.”

“That’s, wow. I’m not sure how to respond.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter, now, does it? We are getting married.”

“That indeed we are, babe,” Mathew says as he reaches down and places a kiss on your temple. “So, what else did you talk about?”

“Wedding planning, you, other stuff, normal girl talk.”

“Did you just say ‘you’ as in me?”

You turn your head away bashfully. “Maybe.”

Mathew laughs his deep belly laugh. “What did you guys say? I mean, I know you were talking about me, but I didn’t think it was a lot.”

“They just wanted me to brag about you and everything. I told them about the story of when we first met, the avocado thing, how you don’t walk around with a shirt, the first time I went to one of your games.”

“Oh, speaking of,” Mathew takes off his shirt, and you laugh. Of course.

“They just wanted me to brag about my love and relationship with you.”

“You should, as bride-to-be.”

“How was your day?” you ask.

“Pretty good; it was fun, but I missed you.”

“Yeah, I missed you, too.”

“It’s funny, we can go a long time without seeing one another when I’m on the road. Don’t get me wrong, it’s quite unbearable but this honestly felt worse.”

“My take is that because we both know that we’re in the same city and can be with each other in probably under an hour. However, when you’re on the road, it’s less hard because you know that you have to be there.”

“Look at you, my intellectual fiance. Our children better get all your traits.”

“I think they should get your looks.”

“I don’t think so; no no.”

“I’m not arguing with you on this. How about a good mix?”

“Perfect, babe.” Mathew kisses you. “Do you want to go to bed? Maybe I can do that thing to you I was referencing earlier?”

The heat instantly rushes to your face, and Mathew instantly knows he’s got you in the palm of his hands. The way your eyes bulged out and swallowed deeply, Mathew just knew.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” he picks you up and carries you to bed.

Yeah, you didn’t want to brag about your relationship with Mathew, but he was too amazing not to.

I don't wanna be a bragger But my man's a heart attacker (Oh, he is) Like McConaughey and Jagger Hotter than a Saturday night I can't help it that I flaunt him (All the time) I understand why you would want him (I don't mind) And you can keep up all the chatter 'bout my happy ever after 'Cause all that really matters is he's mine

Taglist: @goalision @coffee-ontherocks @glassdanse @barzal-burakovsky @petey-patty @beauvibaby @boqvistsbabe @rmaye @heatherawoowoo @heaveniish @stars-canucks @tkapuckit @mellany1997 @nhlboyshavemyhart88 @heybarzy @2manytabsopen @habsfan @besthockeyfics @plds2000 @kaitieskidmore1 @iwantahockeyhimbo @sidscrosbyy (Join my taglist here!)

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - phone notes

This work, 他的备忘记, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it!

[ VICTOR ]

Friday morning: Quarterly director’s meeting

Ensure amended report is in the dummy’s bag

Someone wants banana muffins for breakfast

Take her to the new French restaurant

Get Goldman to purchase the limited-edition lipstick at 12:00 sharp

Ran out of bedtime stories. Buy a new book.

Cat food

Don’t criticise her too much when reviewing her proposal. She takes it personally

Take out the pudding in the fridge... forget it, she has definitely eaten it already

Goodnight kisses

[ GAVIN ]

Get her octopus dumplings

Saturday: Stargazing at the mountaintop

Tracking device in the ginkgo bracelet is getting old. Change it to a better one

ysl 74... I don’t know what shade of red this is, but she likes it

She has overtime today. Bring a coat when picking her up

Milk tea + pearls + succulents + pudding (it must be warm)

It’s her... week. Buy some heating pads

When on a mission, call her every day

She has a bit of a temper when she first wakes up, but gets better after kisses

Never let her go in this lifetime

[ LUCIEN ]

The little lazy cat doesn’t like blowing her hair. Remember to blow it dry for her

Hug her tightly when she’s asleep so she feels safe

Likes snacks, doesn’t like exercising, likes drinking yogurt

She says if she gets fat, I can use homeopathy to help her “exercise”

Wake her up half an hour before the alarm rings, or she’ll be late

Make sure the little liar eats during mealtimes

Visit the oil painting museum over the weekend with my little butterfly

During her menstrual period, stop her from eating certain foods even if she acts coquettishly

Leave some documents lying around so she visits my workplace

She seems to like the term “teacher’s wife”. I should bring it up with my students when I can

[ KIRO ]

Snacks: Chips, fries, popcorn, fried chicken, biscuits, ice-cream, cake

Take Miss Chips out for a proper dinner: steak, hotpot, mala soup, sushi, seafood buffet

Supper: skewers, clam noodles, fried rice, porridge, teppanyaki, fried chicken

Locations Savin has discovered: Television cabinet, coffee table drawer, entranceway plant cabinet (T^T)

Safe locations: Apple Box’s kennel, the space underneath my bed, the fire hose cabinet in the carpark, Miss Chips’ closet (Savin will never find this one) (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

Miss Chips says she’s bringing me fries on Saturday (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ

Don’t let Apple Box and Cello onto our bed. Miss Chips is all mine!!! <(￣ ﹌ ￣)>

Next Monday, 9.09am. New song release. It’s a song I wrote for Miss Chips heheh

When Miss Chips is going through that week, eat comfort food with her

Sing songs to lull Miss Chips to sleep. Make sure she doesn’t stay up to play games, or we’ll both oversleep (-ω-、)

[ SHAW ]

Buy cola

Don’t call her fat or say that she’s old (it’s quite difficult)

Control yourself. Don’t keep channelling lighting. She’ll be afraid.

Remind her to carry an umbrella every day

Buy fake hair and scatter it around to scare her into sleeping earlier

Don’t drink cold cola in front of her during her time of the month. Drink it behind her back.

Dumb final paper

Promised to visit the antique store with her over the weekend

Maintain the dragonfly eye bead

Don’t even breathe in front of her when she’s angry

--

More translated and original works: here

--

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author

[blushie14]

Sleepy Muffin [Skephalo]

Bad needs more sleep nuff said >:v

It is now eleven o’clock at night. Darryl stares at his computer screen for a while until he sighs a bit in frustration. He's got a lot of work done, except for a video that he's been planning to upload today. 

Hours of editing was spent, but unfortunately Darryl has been unlucky lately. The editing software has been acting up and he would sometimes lose a little bit of progress. He was truly exhausted and it was getting harder to focus, but he wanted to get this video out asap. 

Maybe he should take another coffee break. 

He got up and walked out of his room. As he went into the kitchen, Zak was also there eating leftover take out and scrolling through twitter. "Oh hey! How's the video coming along?" 

Darryl grabbed a mug while waiting for the coffee to brew. "Ah, well… it's coming along. Hopefully, I won't lose my progress again though." 

Zak nodded but also had a look of slight concern. "Uhhh dude? Isn't that like your third cup of coffee?"

Darryl stayed silent holding the empty coffee mug, staring blankly at the wall.

"Darryl?... Darryl… Darryl!" 

"H-Huh? Sorry what? I-I blanked out for a moment!" He poured the coffee in his mug and started to drink.

"Jesus Christ, how tired are you?!" 

Darryl's mug was already almost empty as he put it down. "I'm really tired, but I'll go to sleep once I'm done. Promise." He yawned out.

Zak stared at him as he finished his coffee and walked back to his room. He has lived with Darryl for a while. He already knows that he pushes himself to work for hours on end until he gets it done. 

He also knows all too well that a sleep deprived Darryl has unpredictable results. Zak ponders for a moment before he eventually decided to go into Darryl's room. It is probably a good idea to check up on him. 

Zak opens the door and sees Darryl at his desk. He walked over and hugged Darryl from behind while resting his head on top of his head.

Darryl whined a little bit. "Geppyyy I'm still editing. What do you want?" 

Zak chuckled. "Just wanna watch you edit Darry. Something wrong with that?" 

"N-No I guess not.." Darryl blushed a bit before continuing to edit. 

Zak observed him while silently taking note of a few things. Darryl's eyes could barely stay up and he was barely making any progress editing this video. A little time passed by before Zak asked a question. "Soooo how many cups of coffee did you drink?" 

Darryl massaged his temples and yawned as he tried to think about his answer. "Uh… let's see…"

"Oh my god, it shouldn't take you this long to remember how many cups you drank."

"No! No, it's not that. I-It's just that.." Darryl nervously giggled, starting to feel loopy. "Are you talking about how much I had today or?" 

"...What do you mean?" Zak had a bad feeling in his stomach.

"I've been awake for like.. I think it's been 38 hours?"

"Wh- … Ah-..." Zak stood up in shock while Darryl laughed a little more and hid his face. 

"Oh no, I should've kept my mouth shut. Zak, just pretend you didn't hear that okay?"

"NO! Are you- you've been up more than 24 hours?! Are you crazy?!

"Nooo just leave me aloneeee don't worry about it!"

"Darryl I'm- I'm not leaving until you go to bed." 

"I am gonna go to bed, just give me five more minutes to edit this clip.."

"No, you need to go to bed! You've been replaying that snippet for like ten years and still didn't change anything."

Zak refused to let him stay up any longer than he had to. He kept insisting that he should go to bed now while Darryl was still being too stubborn to give in. Eventually, Darryl closed the editing software after saving his progress.

"Okay fine, I'll go to bed now. Are you happy you muffin head?" Darryl pouted, making Zak giggle a bit.

"Yes, now go to your bed."

"I will! Just say goodnight and go!"

"Ah ah ah! I said I'm not leaving until you go to bed."

Darryl groaned "Seriously?… Oh my goodness, fine!" He walked over and sat on his bed. "Better?" 

Zak smiled. "Yup! Now get some rest, okay?" Darryl nodded while Zak left his room. He closed the door and was about to walk away before he stopped himself.

He had a strong feeling in his stomach. He had a hunch that he needed to check if Darryl was actually going to bed. Lo and behold, the moment he opened the door, he saw him back in his chair staring at his monitor.

"Darryl, I swear to god." He facepalmed and laughed while the other let out a small scream before quickly standing up. 

"Wait, Zak it's not what it looks like! Look, I'm going to bed for real." He walked over, sitting on his bed again. "Okay, you can leave now." 

Zak rolled his eyes before sitting right next to him. "Nah, I think I'll stay right here." He smiled while Darryl started to protest.

"Wait you're not leaving? No, come on I promised I'd go to bed."

Zak crossed his arms. "I know, but you didn't promise you would go to sleep. So I'll just wait here until you fall asleep." He smirked, not falling for this again. 

Darryl went quiet for a moment. "...Nooo why would you do that, you're being ridiculous." 

Zak giggled, and the other being loopy couldn't help but giggle along. "You and I both know that the minute I walk out that door, you're just going to go back to your computer desk!"

"Nooooo! I wouldn't! Skeppy, leave my roooooom!" 

"Maybe, and this is just a thought, just maybe I'll leave once you go to sleep." 

"You go to sleep, you dunderhead!" 

"No! You first!" 

They bickered back and forth for a few more minutes until Zak had an idea to make up a "deal" for the both of them. 

"Okay, okay look. How about this. Let's say if I fall asleep before you do, you can get back on your computer and do whatever you want for as long as you want. And I'll never bother you about sleeping ever again."

Darryl's eyes lit up for a bit. "Wait really? So I don't have to sleep right now? And I can finish editing my video."

"That is only if you can stay up longer than me." He chuckled. There was no way he's going to fall asleep before he does.

"Hmm… you sure you wanna do this?" Darryl was confident he could stay up a little longer. He's made it this long, there's no way he was gonna fall asleep now.

"I mean, either way there's no way I'd be able to stop you if I fell asleep before you do. So yeah."

"Okay then, deal!" Darryl laughed. "You made a huge mistake, you muffin. I've had a few cups of coffee and I'm going to stay up so that I can finally finish editing!"

Zak giggled, "Whatever you say Darry. Whatever you say." 

Time went by as Darryl rambled on about random topics as a way to keep himself awake. Darryl was yawning every now and then while Zak stayed silent, wide awake.

"Dude, stop yawning. You're going to make me tired."

Darryl let out a devious laugh. "Hmmm maybe this is my plan all along Zak!" 

Zak covered his mouth with his sleeves as he had a mini giggle fit. 

More time went by and Darryl resorted to making up a story in song format. 

"🎶 Ohhhh there once was a little ducky boy, who was planning something for his ducklings. He wanted to make his little ducklings happy cuz he loves each and every single one! Buuuut then his own ducky, who he loves very much, wanted to be a big meanie pants. He forced the little ducky to stop and nowww, the little ducky is sad! 🎶"

Zak couldn't help but laugh at how adorable that was. He decided to go along with the analogies. 

"The ducky loves his little ducky too, which is why the ducky wants his one and only to take a break." He cupped Darryl's red face in his hands. "The ducklings will be patient and understand that the little ducky is tired." 

Darryl let out a flustered whine. "But I promised them a new videoooo!" Zak only sighed in response.

Even MORE time goes by. Darryl was laying on Zak's shoulder, struggling to keep his eyes open. Zak was also a little tired, but he was definitely wide awake compared to Darryl. 

"Hey… Zak? Have you- have you ever noticed that the word 'fridge' has the letter 'd' in it, yet the word refrigerator doesn't have a 'd' in it?" 

At that moment, Zak wheezed and lost it at this point, covering his face as he laughed head off. Darryl was giggling as he continued to talk.

"Whahat? It doesn't mahake any sehehense!" 

"BAHAHAD PLEHEAHEASE GO TO SLEHEEHEEP!" 

"Nooooooo!" 

It took a while, but Zak finally calmed down. He put one arm around Darryl and gently started playing with his hair, just because he felt like it. 

Darryl had his eyes shut for a moment before jolting awake again. "Zak noo…. quit making me tired, you.. you muffin…"

Zak smiled and wrapped both his arms around him, snuggling against him now, still playing with his hair. 

Darryl could feel himself drifting to sleep. "Gep..py..no.." Zak could barely hear him mutter his words. Despite his mumbling protests, Darryl started to hug Zak on instinct.

"You were saying Darryl?" Zak giggled as he heard him mumbling more words. Darryl's mumbling started to get slower and slower, until it eventually came to a stop.

"Are youuu finally asleep?" Zak heard nothing in response. He lightly gasped when he heard light snoring. 

"Awww.." He giggled as he hugged him a little tighter. Zak didn't want to leave his side. "It took you long enough.." He slowly closes his eyes.

"Good night, I love you.." 

[End] 

[helahades]

Can’t Give You Love

(Steve Rogers x Black!Fem!Reader)

A/N: ***Important*** This story has strong noncon concepts, and delusional thoughts from Steve, who is the aggressor. None of these things are okay irl, and because of the sensitive nature of these concepts, warnings are below the cut.

This is my entry to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor’s recent challenge. ♥️♥️♥️My prompt: (#21) Character A meets Character B at a nightclub. Character A wants a one night stand but Character B wants more.

Summary: You take Steve home after a night out, celebrating your graduation. You fall asleep. Steve decides he hasn’t had enough.

Warnings: Smut. NSFW. Somnophilia, Delusional Steve. Justification of terrible thoughts via Steve’s POV. Mentions of blood and violence. Steve pretending to be a good guy.

Word Count: about 3.1k

—

Steve’s favorite part of the night is the beginning. Club goers come in all shapes and sizes, in all levels of modesty. To be in a world of such varied and unburdened interactions reminds him of the true simplicity at civilian level. Makes him feel almost human. Despite all his moral dilemmas, he is still a man though, and he isn’t just here to be thoughtful. He likes to look, and he’s he’s delighted when his eyes find you.

Watching you from the bar, he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the way you constantly pulled down the skirt of your curve hugging dress, the way you adjusted your “Congrats Grad!” pin like it would spear you to death right there on the dance floor, the way you would go to dance, swinging your hips each way like no one was watching. It excites him watching you, because you keep throwing tells that you’ve never done this before, that this isn’t your scene. For a while, he had been bored with that, but you’re not just a shy lamb, there’s something else.

Your laugh is uninhibited, and there’s a starter spark threatening to flame behind your eyes, dare any man get too touchy with you or your friends. Steve loves a protector.

When you approach the bar, it’s hardly for your first drink, but there are no indicators in your demeanor. He only knows because he’s been watching you all night.

You’re there for a moment, watching the workings behind the bar before turning to him.

“So,” you giggle, flame coming to life, “come here often?”

He’s hooked.

“Not at all actually. This isn’t really my scene.” A lie. He fidgets with his drink as a special touch.

Your eyes soften, empathetically and imperceptibly to anyone who wasn’t analyzing the fine details.

“To be honest… it’s not really mine either. Think I’d rather celebrate graduating by sleeping—But anyway, why’d you come out tonight if it’s… not your scene?”

You’re fully engaged. It seems that you love the game of conversation.

“The truth is… long winded.”

“Well,” you say softly as possible, still wanting to be heard over the pulsing of the bass, “I’m pretty tired of dancing, so you’d be doing me a favor giving me a reason to stay.”

You pull up a stool and prop your head on one arm.

With a soft chuckle, Steve continues.

“I guess…I had been looking for love. For… the one, yknow? And I didn’t realize until tonight that it’s not gonna happen.”

“What changed tonight?”

Your drink arrives.

“It’s nothing about tonight in particular, tonight’s just a night—but I’m sorry. You’re here to have a good time,” he finishes, scooting away just a bit as he does so. A test.

Your brow furrows and you think a bit before closing the gap. Smart girl. But he’s got you.

“I’d have a better time, literally anywhere else,” you giggle again, shifting and sitting up to sip your drink. Seeming to realize what you implied, you gather the boldness to finish it.

“So… do you wanna get out of here?”

—

You decide to drive, saying you only had that sip to drink. Steve says he believes you. He doesn't really mind anyway, and he can’t tell you he knows a different truth, lest he reveal himself.

Watching you as you talk as your minidress rides up your thighs, he realizes upon arrival that he can’t remember whether the drive was long. Sloppy of him.

You park the car and shift in your seat.

“I really want to kiss you—what was it?”

“Steve.”

“Steve,” you repeat, sitting back in the driver's seat.

“God I want to kiss you. I can’t show you love,” you taunt gently, in a comfortable way like you’ve known him forever, “but I can make you feel really good,” your voice finishes sweetly.

He feels his cock swell, and in that moment, a large warm hand is cradling your jaw and pulling you close for a sugary, tequila spiked kiss. His lips are plump, warm, now wet as you run your tongue over his bottom one.

From between your legs, heat rises all the way to your chest, and you break away to fumble for your house key.

As Steve sits, collecting air while you fumble with your pineapple keyring, he tries to recall, but he knows he’s never tasted anyone so sweet. You’re warm like muffins fresh out of the oven. You have just enough fight to convince yourself you’re hard to get, and that makes him dizzy.

He tries not to think about the fact that you’re already wet. Because he’s a gentleman. Always a gentleman first. Always the golden boy. Since retiring, he knows his role isn't what it used to be. Sam holds the shield with ease, and honestly, Steve had never pictured life without that shield and moniker before going on the run. When he was on the run, he was living from one moment to the next. Between here and there, he was never really thinking about his own wants, what would make HIM feel alive.

He’s living a different life, though, because now he can. He’s got all the time in the world. After too long of fighting some new cosmic force, of each threat being crazier than the last, he wants the old school life. That sentiment is one he had thought had left, and he wants to taste with you in case it does again.

Seeing your dress ride up your thighs tonight, he thinks of how his flannel might do the same while you cook him breakfast. But he would be right beside you helping, and you wouldn’t look as out of place as you did in that club, because secretly, domesticity with him is what you’re made for.

He’s no fool. He knows you don’t see it yet. But tonight he will bring you to the edge again and again before pulling you into a world of pleasure you’ve never known. And then you’ll know.

—

As he curves his hips up to meet yours, the squelching sounds your pussy makes are obscene. The ones from your mouth are even sexier, and it makes this all seem like a lucid dream. You’re riding him, and he’s...encouraging you by taking control from where he lies. You love it. He’s a gentleman, so he won’t be any rougher.

You say you like it rough, but you’ve never had rough from him. That’s a test for a later time. He doesn’t want to scare you.

“Ooh yea—Steve, please! Right there—like that, don’t stop!”

He doesn’t. He won’t. You don’t need to beg, but he loves it when you do.

Your thighs shake, your mouth falls open in that cute way it does, and you fall forward, catching your hands on his chest. You seem to be in love with the hair there, and everywhere on him. Something about that appeals to a monster in him he doesn’t address.

You wince when you finally dismount, pulling yourself off his incredible length, and looking down for the millionth time to check if the condom is still there, before he discards it. He tries not to roll his eyes as he comes back to lie with you. It’s ridiculous, really. You’re his now, there’s no need for this barrier. He holds the monster back that gives him thoughts of you round with his child.

You plop on the bed next to him and shuffle under the sheets.

“That was sooo good. Thank you. I’m so glad you’re not some creep,” and you giggle it like you do.

Scratching softly at his beard, your eyes close sleepily.

“You can let yourself out. I trust you.”

Hm. Of course you do. You’re his and he is yours. It’s already that easy.

He can’t understand why you want him to leave though, and as you drift off, he wonders if you noticed that he hasn’t shifted from his spot.

The crickets are chirping happily with the night, and after a few seconds, your sprinklers turn on. He thinks about kissing you goodnight, eating dinner together, cleaning the pool while you braid your hair.

Cool and light, fan turned air swirls over him as his back moulds into the mattress. It’s too soft, and somehow he's feeling a little too warm, but maybe that’s what new beginnings do.

Scratching his neck, he sighs at the ceiling before trailing his hand lower...lower… under the sheets, and down to squeeze his cock. It’s still damp with the wetness of you, and he gives it one more slow squeeze. There’s excitement there lingering, and he knows he hasn’t had enough yet.

He could jerk off right here next to you. You’re asleep and you would never know. Maybe he could even cum on your naked stomach, rub it in a bit. Maybe he could cum in your mouth. He tries to blink that thought away. But his cum would look so nice on your pretty skin, or even…

Inside you.

He can’t. You’re asleep. He’s already had you once. He should be sated. All of a sudden, he remembers asking about your New York license plate. He remembers you saying you’d lived there for years before coming out here. And it’s easy for him to conclude that he’s saved you. At least once.

For every threat that plagued New York while he was an Avenger, you’re alive and snoring softly next to him, and that has to be fate. He may not be a hero now, but he was once, and that counts for something right? And he saved your life, at least indirectly. And he can’t ignore your soft breaths pushing past your plump lips, and the way you face him in your sleep like he’s your lover. He’d only be taking what he’s owed. It’s the least he can accept in return for your life.

Tentatively, he shifts and lifts an arm and gently strokes your bottom lip with a thumb. Pushing it just past where your mouth is slightly open, and behind your teeth to push gently on your tongue. The wetness of it is arousing enough, but he pushes further back, and feels your throat constrict in a gag, wetness moving around him pushing his finger to the roof of your mouth.

Then, you’re pulling your head back, gentle discomfort clouding your sleeping features. A pause. And with a rolling slow stretch, you’re lying on your back, legs spread. It’s practically an invitation.

Moving over you, he winces at the way the rubbing sound of his skin on the sheets sounds like an earthquake in the quietness of your room. Propping himself up, covering you like shade, he's aware of the shape of your body’s heat pressed up against such a large surface area of him, and it stirs something deep and dormant. He can practically feel the blood rush to his cock again.

He pushes your thighs further apart with his own, and notes the smoothness of your skin against his, which is hairier. (He abandoned shaving entirely once he dropped the life of being an international symbol. It’s the small protests.)

A choked groan escapes him as he rubs the tip of his cock over your clothed clit, and his breath blows a couple hairs against your forehead.

He pauses.

He hears your fan slicing through the high air.

He hears your refrigerator make a shifting sound as the ice machine starts in the distance.

Most importantly, he hears your breath, still coming even. He chances another rub, pleasure shooting through him like lighting.

Something about both being so close to you again, but also the thought of getting caught in this compromising position has his body alive.

It’s the way he would feel in fights as his younger self, when being a hero was new, and he didn’t know where the next attack would come from. Before violence turned to muscle memory.

Steve decides you’re much prettier than violence, and he likes the wetness of your cunt, of your tongue swirling, much better than the feel of blood streaming over his hands. He lives for this, and the chance of having you while you’re sleeping is a new thrill.

He doesn’t want to take too long really, and he’s not proud of it, but he moves slowly, and pulls his knife from his pants on the floor, inches down your body, and slices your panties open with the blade.

The sound of the fabric ripping is new. Taboo. And he’s harder than before, excitement squeezing his chest. He pauses there for a moment, eye level with your cunt, noticing the slight glisten, noticing flower like curves, remembering how you feel inside.

Scooting a pillow out of the way, he straightens up and sits back on his calves, appreciating you fully. Then, he’s closer, quicker, less careful, as his hands land just over the bend of your knees to turn your thighs out, opening you up to him, then pushing your legs further apart.

It’s really not the time, but he thinks about his life before the serum. On the days when all he could do was sit in bed, draw—but most importantly—think, he would think about a wife. His brain would tease him with fantasies about things he thought he could never have. He would think about being stronger, able to make love to his girl the right way.

He won’t waste his chance now. Coming back up and positioning himself over you once more, he grips the base of his cock and bites his lip, tapping it a couple times on your sensitive pussy.

He freezes when you shift your hips.

A moment.

A breath.

Then the head of his cock breaches your walls and the rest of him follows. You’re not as wet as you were when he first had you, but that can be remedied. It makes the squeeze feel tighter, the moment feel longer. He’s kissing on your neck now, slowly pulling all the way out, before pushing deep back in, relishing in this unbearably and oddly pleasurable friction.

Your breathing quickens, somehow still even, and he needs to be closer. Rolling his hips into you, he’s right against you, damn near balls deep, and he doesn’t know if he’ll last, hearing all your sleeping whines.

He’s obsessed with how your breasts bounce. Your nipples are hardened by the cold, and this stimulation, and they draw small circles in the air with each thrust. His eyes flicker to your face one last time, and as a wave of pleasure rolls through him, his monster deciding he’s done being a gentleman.

With another thrust, and a softly choked groan into the silent night, a wave of your slick is rushing around him, and the sounds drive him crazy. Over and over, he thrusts into you. Gentleness gone, along with his cool reservation of the sounds of his pleasure, he’s damn near growling now, hooked on having you this way.

He adjusts himself, wanting to see the exact motions that are moving you up the bed, that have you whining, your sounds losing their softness. Each time he plunges into you he shudders. The wetness of you, the way he’s using you, the way he can take what he pleases, and the thought you’ll maybe only know because of the soreness.

He slows, cock pulsing, for gentler thrusts. Not for you, but for the artists details. He canvases the soft ridges inside you that have him like a vice grip. Takes the time to note the sharp, raw scent of you mixing with him.

Sitting up and back, he pulls you by the hips from where you lie, your ass lifting off the mattress, and your upper body still unresistant to his manipulations. He has a better view of you now, rubbing the head of his cock over your clit, around your entrance, tapping it on your mound to tease himself. He’s rewarded with another gush of wetness, and it runs down his cock, down his balls, into your sheets, and as he pulls you onto his length again, he growls when he catches the scent swirling through the air.

You’re so fucking pretty like this. He can’t believe he’s never had anyone this way. Then, he realizes, it’s special. For just the two of you, as lovers.

He feels a tug. A throb in the base of his cock then upwards as pleasure overtakes him. He chuckles wickedly, and that cuts off in a hedonistic moan as he knows you won’t be able to stop him. He hears you try to tease that he’s not ready for kids, hears the edge of fear in your voice from before. You don’t do this all the time, and it’d be terrible for a stranger to impregnate you.

But Steve is different. He’s not a stranger. He’s the one for you. You just don’t know it yet. He fucks into you angrier, ignoring how he's overstimulated, how your pussy is puffy and raw, remembers how you told him to let himself out. It would be another joke to laugh to had you not meant it. He just has to feel you. Has to see you take his cum like you were meant to. It’s not his fault. It would have been easier, more gentlemanly had you let him while you were awake.

He’s only a man, really, he has to take what he wants. The feeling swells in his balls again, the pressure of coming release running up his shaft, and his cock feels even harder somehow.

Rushing through him as his thrusts get weaker and he leans more weight on you, the bliss of your wetness squeezing and tugging him involuntarily is indescribable.

He gasps, filling the whole of his lungs, curving his hips into you with short, desperate stutters, stronger pressure pushing up the base of his cock, before finally releasing into you with a deep groan. The new loose feeling, this mess, has him seeing stars.

Steve can’t help but to pause, not because you’re waking up, but because he’s feeling his cum take form wherever it can fit around his cock thats pulsing inside your pussy that’s throbbing too. What can’t fit spills out of you, dripping and smearing, and in his post orgasm haze, he slowly fucks it back in. He pushes it in deep with a wicked moan, thighs shaking in pleasure.

It’s done.

And when the clouds leave your eyes, and you’re really awake as he pulls out of you, flinching at your own sensitivity, your eyes widen in horror as a hand flies between your legs, still processing what he’s done.

And because he’s a gentleman, he has to ask.

“What’s wrong, lover?”

—

(reblogs appreciated!)

tags: (only tagging people I know are comfortable with dark fics) @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @threeminutesoflife @honeychicanawrites @avintagekiss24 @xbuchananbarnes @sapphirescrolls @jtargaryen18

[jobean12-blog]

Hello lovely!! I was really hoping I could request a funny/fluffy one shot with Bucky and reader *trying* to make love but their youngest child keeps disturbing them? And to solve their issues, maybe bucky puts a cardboard cut out of him in the child's room to distract them temporarily so he can finally have a moment with Y/N! Thank you 😘😍💙🥰

Ta Da!

Pairing: Bucky x reader (Dad!bucky :)

Word Count: 1,012

Summary: You and Bucky are trying to find some time to be together but the constant interruptions make it difficult. Bucky comes up with an idea that just might work!

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for this fun request! So cute and SO REAL. I hope I did the situation justice. I had fun writing it and even made myself laugh haha! Hope you enjoy! Thank you all for reading! Much love ❤❤❤

Warnings: super fluff, cute kids, Bucky being a kick ass dad, implied sexy times 

“Ok, I think she’s finally asleep,” Bucky says as he pulls his shirt over his head. Smiling up at him you fold down the sheet, “get in here.” His body is warm and soft as he pulls you close, his lips meeting yours in deep kiss. Just as he flips you onto your back you hear a shrill whine from down the hall. Bucky groans into your mouth, “what did she say this time?”

Giggling, you give his butt a squeeze and sigh, “pretty sure she said daddy come here.” With a roll of his hips Bucky stands, shuffling down the hall into your daughters’ room. “Hey, sweetie, what’s going on?” He kneels next to her bed and fixes her covers, gently smoothing his hand over her hair. “Hi daddy! Where did your shirt go?” she asks, big blue eyes wide and questioning.

Bucky can’t help but laugh, “well, I got under the covers and it was too warm, so I took it off. Now, it’s time for bed, no more questions, you need your sleep.” Her little lips turn down and her eyes water, “but daddy, I want to come sleep with you and mommy.” Now it’s Bucky’s turn to frown, hating to say no to her. “You can’t baby. You’re getting to be a big girl and it’s important you sleep in your bed and let mommy and daddy get rest so we can all play tomorrow!” He says the last part brightly, trying to get his 4-year-old to see reason.

“Ok, you’re right. We have lots of playin’ to do!” she says matter of factly before placing her head back down on the pillow. “That’s my good girl, now sleep tight, I love you.” “Love you, daddy.” Bucky slowly backs out of the room, tip toeing down to your bedroom. He crawls back under the covers, “where were we?” he asks, working his hand under your shirt.

“Daddy, mommy! Look, I got warm under my cover so I tooked my shirt off too!” Bucky gives your hip a firm squeeze, sighing as he whispers in your ear, “did you even hear her coming down the hall?” You peek over his shoulder, your daughter standing proudly next to your bed, shirtless. “Not at all,” you reply, slightly amazed.

Bucky sits up, running his hand over his face but smiling all the same. “Mommy, did you get hot too? Were you gonna take your shirt off?” your daughter asks, climbing onto the bed and pointing to your bunched-up shirt. Laughing you pull it down, bringing her into your lap, “something like that, baby.”

Rocking her you ask, “why aren’t you sleeping, sweet girl?” Her big blue eyes lock onto yours and your resolve starts to crumble, “well, I miss you and daddy, and I wanted to visit.” Kissing the top of her head you hold her close, explaining, “I know baby, we miss you too, but you have to sleep and we need to sleep, like daddy said, we need energy to play!”

She snuggles into you, a quiet, “I know mommy,” mumbled into your shirt. “I’VE GOT IT!” Bucky shouts, startling you both. “What, baby?” you ask, raising a brow. “Where is that cardboard from the box for her new bed, is it still by the back door?” You think for a moment, chewing your bottom lip, “ummmm, yea, it’s still there, why?” With a smirk, he hops off the bed, “be right back.”

“Mommy can we read a story while we wait?” Shrugging your shoulders in defeat you say, “sure, go grab one and we’ll read.” With a happy squeal she jumps off the bed and runs down the hall, returning quickly with her favorite book. “I’m ready,” she says, sitting back in your lap.

You read the book two and half times before Bucky comes back into the room, a large piece of cardboard behind his back. “Ta da!” he says excitedly, holding out a piece of cardboard almost as tall as him, complete with pants a tee shirt, brown hair, and scruff. “It’s daddy!” he cheers. Your daughter climbs off the bed and walks over to it, poking it a couple of times and finally saying, “I’ll be right back.”

Bucky shoots you an “I give up,” look and you bury your face in the pillow to hide your laughter. “Oh, so you have a better idea?” he says teasingly, walking the cardboard cutout of himself over to you and hitting you with it. Your laughter can no longer be contained and your barely register your daughter returning with her bag of markers.

“Can I have that daddy?” she asks sweetly, tugging on his hand. “Sure, baby, here you go,” he says, placing it down on the floor next to her. She whips out her markers and starts adding some finishing touches. More hair, extra blue on the eyes and finally a whole in the t shirt. She explains each new addition with determination, standing back when she’s done with a pleased, “ta da!”

There is nothing that can hold back your laughter now, Bucky joining right in as you both fall over on the bed. “It’s perfect,” he says between laughs. “Let’s go put it in your room!” With a little wave she says, “night mommy, love you,” and follows Bucky out. She tells him where to put the “daddy board,” and crawls into bed. “Now you’ll be in here too!” she whispers with a yawn. “Of course, baby, I’m always right here.”

“Love you daddy,” she says as her eyes close, now heavy with sleep. “Love you baby girl. Goodnight,” he whispers, kissing her chubby cheek. When he walks back into the room, he finds you sprawled out, your shirt already off and a smirk on your face. “Did it work, she asleep?” He doesn’t answer, slowly crawling over your body and leaving a trail of kisses along your silky skin. Once he reaches your lips he hums, “she better be, ‘cause I don’t even care if she wakes up again, I need you. Now.”

@aesthetical-bucky @buckys-broody-muffin @book-dragon-13 @devynsdiary @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @hailmary-yramliah @itsunclebucky @ikaris-whore @jhangelface0523 @jewelofwinter @jewels2876 @loricameback @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @marvelgirl7 @metal-armed-cuddly-dork @mushyjellybeans @marvelandotherfandomimagines @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin @scarletsoldierrr @sallycanwait68 @softpeachbarnes @the-wayward-robot @when-the-hell-is-bucky

[moonlightserenadeeznutz]

Remus shows Sirius around Wales (Part 2)

For @daylily-evans

(Part 1)

~ Remus’s house was not dissimilar from all the other houses they had passed, medium sized and grey-stoned. But it still felt... different somehow. Sirius couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it felt like Remus. It felt like the Lupins. It felt like home.

The front garden was blooming with flowers, their scent mingling with the air and making the whole area feel like a dream. “Mam likes to garden,” explained Remus, which- judging by the sheer amount of meticulously cared for flowers- seemed like an understatement.

They crossed over the threshold as Lyall opened the door. Sirius had always imagined the inside of Remus’s house to look like a cross between a library and a normal muggle residence, what with Remus and his father being avid readers, and his mother being a proud preserver of her muggle heritage, and Sirius was happy to see that his imagination hadn’t been far off.

The entrance hall immediately opened up onto the living room, the walls of which were lined with bookshelves. And in the corner of the room, surrounded by a comfortable looking sofa and matching armchair, was a medium sized black box, perched atop a wooden table, which Sirius recognised to be a television. Sirius knew quite a bit about muggle objects and technology by now, keen as he was to learn about it all in order to spite his family. He remembered a half term during second year when Remus had written to him and explained what a television was so that he could excitedly share the news that his parents had finally bought a set. And Sirius was interested to see that this must have been that very set.

Remus had begun to carry his trunk upstairs, and Sirius followed him with his own trunk.

“I’ll cook your favourite tonight, carru,” called Hope, as Remus retreated onto the first floor landing.

“Diolch, mam,” he called back.

“What’s your favourite, carru?” Asked Sirius jokingly, though he was genuinely interested nonetheless.

“Spaghetti with my mam’s tomato sauce,” replied Remus. They’d reached his bedroom door. Of all the things that Sirius was most excited to see on this visit, Remus’s bedroom was definitely top of the list. Everything else: the living room, the house, the garden, the shops, the country; it was Remus intermingled with other people: his parents and his neighbours and Mrs. Hughes with the muffins. But Remus’s bedroom was one hundred percent pure Remus.

“My room,” said Remus, placing his trunk down with a thump. “Don’t get too excited,” he added, as if he’d been reading Sirius’s mind.

“Can’t make any promises, carru.” Remus opened the door and dragged his trunk through the doorway. Sirius followed suit and immediately looked around.

Yes. This room undoubtedly belonged to Remus Lupin. It was the opposite of Sirius and James’s room at the Potter’s house. Theirs was messy, disorganised, clothes everywhere and posters of Quidditch teams and punk bands plastering the walls. Remus had posters, but they had been put up with care rather than been used as an alternative to wallpaper. He had a poster of the Welsh National Quidditch team, and a chart above his desk mapping out the cycles of the moon, and clippings from The Daily Prophet on one of the walls. Above his dresser, upon which sat a record player and a few record sleeves (Sirius took a note to have a look at them later), a collection of Chocolate Frog cards had been stuck up in neat, horizontal lines. Everything in the room was neat.

A mark of a Hogwarts student was their home bedroom containing various things from childhood that were never thrown out or stored away during the short few weeks that one spent at home over those seven long school years. The newspaper clippings were all dated from 1971, with articles that Sirius could imagine an eleven year old Remus would be interested in: Man Claims to Know What Boggarts Really Look Like. Man Falls Five Thousand Feet from Broomstick and Lives. A bookshelf boasted a number of thick books, but on the very bottom self, some children’s books still remained. Tales of Beedle the Bard, a seperate copy of The Fountain of Fair Fortune (Sirius had never been allowed to read that one. His parents considered it to be blood traitorous and disgusting. In fact, Beedle the Bard as a whole had been banned entirely, save for The Warlock’s Hairy Heart, which depicted an incredibly powerful wizard who was desperate to preserve his magical lineage. It didn’t have a happy ending either. So it wasn’t surprising that Sirius’s parents approved of it). There were some Welsh titles that Sirius wasn’t able to read: Y Tri Mochyn Bach, and Charlie a’r Ffatri Siocled, as well as some other muggle stories. Or at least, Sirius assumed they were muggle. He didn’t recognise the titles: The Seven Swans, Jack and the Beanstalk, A Collection of Tales from the Brothers Grimm.

“This is your bed,” said Remus suddenly, shaking Sirius out of his reverie. Sirius turned to look at a mattress next to Remus’s bed. It was all made up with sheets and a duvet and a pillow.

“I would ask if it’s alright for you, but I expect you won’t be spending much time in it.” He raised his eyebrows and Sirius took the cue.

“Now, Moony, what would your mother say?”

“She’d say...  peidwych â chael fy nhudalennau'n fudr.” He shot a swift smile at his friend before lifting his trunk onto his bed and beginning to unpack it.

~ The two didn’t have much time after unpacking to do anything, before Hope called them down for dinner.

Hope was a wonderful cook. Sirius had to stop himself from shovelling the meal down in one, not wanting to appear rude, but he certainly praised Hope generously once they had all finished eating. Hope was smitten.

“Sirius, carru, you’re such a gentleman! You found a good one here, Remus.” Remus smiled, embarrassed, but at the same time, silently agreeing.

~ Unlike Sirius’s parents, Hope and Lyall were respectful of boundaries. Once they’d said goodnight to the boys, Sirius and Remus went the rest of the night undisturbed, and Remus had been right: Sirius spent perhaps half an hour on his mattress before crawling into Remus’s bed. He wrapped his arms around Remus’s torso and rested his head on the boy’s shoulder.

“It’s lovely here,” Sirius murmured, tickling Remus’s cheek with his breath. “Wish we could swap lives.”

“You mean I get to stop being a werewolf and live with Prongs? Hm... I could go for that.”

“I mean I’d get to kiss myself.” Remus laughed, a laugh that was slightly cut off by Sirius raising his head to kiss him, as a demonstration of his previous statement. The room was quiet. Peaceful. Remus stroked Sirius’s hair.

“Tomorrow, I’ll show you around properly.”

~ (Part 3)

Welsh Translation:

Carru (pronounced Ka-ree): Love

Diolch (Di-ol-kh): Thanks/Thank you

Y Tri Mochyn Bach (Ee tree mo-kh-in ba-kh): The Three Little Pigs

Charlie a’r Ffatri Siocled (Charlie ar fa-tri sho-cled): Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

Peidiwch â chael fy nhudalennau'n fudr (pay-doo-kh ah kh-eye-l fee nee-dah-len-eye-n fee-dr): Don’t get my sheets dirty.

Sorry if I haven’t got the pronunciation spot on. It’s very hard to describe.

[elisela]

make my wish come true buck x eddie, g, 2k, fluff and sweet drunk boys for @madamewriterofwrongs because for once it wasn’t @tylerhunklin who said “yes write it” after sending me a TikTok

--

“Four,” Buck says. His head is tipped back on the couch, cheeks flushed, eyes bright—Eddie wants to reach out and touch him, to trace the lines of his face with gentle fingertips, to press his mouth against Buck’s and see if his lips are as soft as they look, if they would give way underneath Eddie’s teeth and thumbs and—“no, five,” Buck says, looking over at him. “Six? I dunno, Eds, s’probably time for water.”

“Probably,” he says. He doesn’t move. The kitchen—it’s so far away, and the couch is already tilting a little, pressing Buck right against him, his body radiating heat that Eddie feels down to his bones. He presses a palm down on the arm of the couch, but his stomach lurches as soon as he shifts forward and he gives up. “Gonna regret this in the morning.”

“Long way from now,” Buck says, and his head drops onto Eddie’s shoulder. “Hey, Eddie. Truth or dare?”

“This is a bad idea,” Eddie says. He’s still sober enough to know that Buck’s usual dares take a dangerous turn when they’re drunk—it’s only happened twice before, but he can still recall how cartwheeling into the side of the house had quickly ended the game last time. Still. “Dare.”

“I dare you to do a handstand for five minutes,” Buck says. His breath blows out over Eddie’s skin as he laughs, seemingly already picturing Eddie struggling in his mind.

“Fine,” Eddie says. He still doesn’t move. “I’m gonna puke on your floor though.”

Buck’s arm slides along his waist as he twists, ending up with his face smashed into Eddie’s neck, his weight pressing Eddie back into the couch. “Nevermind,” he says, and he rubs his nose into the crease of Eddie’s neck, laughing again when Eddie tries to push him away. “I don’t wanna clean it—no, stay—”

Eddie relaxes, stops struggling against him, but Buck’s still got most of his body tucked against Eddie’s so he doesn’t feel bad about the hand he keeps on Buck’s waist. “S’this mean I win?”

“No,” Buck says. “I get a do-over.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do too,” Buck says, poking him in the ribs. “You can’t just say you win, Eddie—” the way Buck’s lips brush against his skin drives him crazy, and he’s too buzzed to remember that he really shouldn’t be leaning into it, he should probably pull away, move himself across the couch and to a safer distance, where he couldn’t smell the shampoo Buck uses from the way his hair tickles under Eddie’s nose, “—uh, did you say truth or dare?”

He frowns. “Um. Dare?”

He always chooses dare. Buck somehow hasn’t caught on, but he’s not worried about Buck’s dares, all some variation of physical stunts that will likely result in one of them breaking a bone at some point if they keep it up. But truth—he’s heard the questions Buck asks Maddie, asks Chim. He can’t risk that Buck wouldn’t dig straight to the bottom of his soul if he got a chance.

“I dare you to get us water,” Buck mumbles.

“Okay,” Eddie says, and neither of them move for several minutes. Buck’s head gets heavier on his shoulder, and Eddie feels his own tilt down until his cheek is resting on Buck’s forehead. It’s—gravity. Alcohol. Nothing he’s doing of his own volition, just—”you still awake?”

Buck hums. “I’m hungry. Let’s go get tacos.”

His stomach turns over. “Pancakes.”

“Oh, those dumplings you like at that one place—”

“The one by—”

“No, the other one,” Buck says. “Think they deliver?”

“Not at three in the morning,” Eddie says. He doesn’t really know what time it is, but it’s been dark for hours now, so—maybe.

“You ever been to San Francisco?”

“Not since I left my heart there,” he says, and snorts when Buck makes a confused noise. “It’s—nevermind. No. Have you?”

“”m gonna take you ‘n Chris,” Buck says. “There’s a place, they have these green onion pancakes—it’s amazing. I dream about ‘em.”

“When’d you go to San Francisco?” He’s heard Buck’s life story, knows the trips he’d been on with his family, the route he’d taken through South America and up through Mexico before landing in Los Angeles. Nothing further north than L.A. had ever been mentioned.

“After Abby,” Buck says. “Drove up the coast, tried to get used to being alone again. Didn’t need to, I still got you guys.”

His throat is only dry because of the alcohol. God, he wants. He wants to tell Buck that he always has him, has Chris, that as long as Eddie’s alive he’s going to wait until Buck decides he wants him. He thinks—well, he’s never quite sure if he’s reading things the right way. There’d been the ghost of Abby, then Ali, then a long stretch of no one until Buck had started to make comments about dating, about finding someone, but—nothing ever came of it. And every time Eddie thought, this isn’t something just friends do—like this, this cuddling on the couch with Buck’s fingers pressing idle patterns against his skin—he’d turn around and see Buck getting just as close with Hen, his feet in her lap on the couch at work, or catch him flirting with other people.

It’s fine. Eddie’s just not used to friendships like this, such tactile, vulnerable relationships, but he can live with it, even if he constantly wants more, even if he sometimes would bet on Buck wanting more, too.

“You ever go?”

“No,” Eddie says, even though he’s pretty sure Buck had already asked. His hand is in Buck’s hair, somehow, scratching the pads of his fingers against Buck’s scalp. “Want to.”

“Let’s go,” Buck says. “Trade our next shift, we can take Chris—”

“Our next shift is Halloween,” Eddie says, and there is absolutely no one who will trade them if it means they end up working on Halloween.

“The one after that, then we have six days—there’s the bridge and Chris would love Alcatraz and we could drive up—”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Eddie says, a yawn interrupting his words.

“Cool,” Buck says, and Eddie can always tell when he’s smiling by how his voice sounds. “But ‘m still hungry.”

“Water.”

“Carbs,” Buck says. “Oh, sourdough bread. You think Uber Eats can bring it?”

“I think we should have water and go to sleep,” Eddie says, but again—he can’t bring himself to move. Buck is warm against him, soft and happy, and Eddie would stay awake all night if it means getting to touch him like this, getting to drop his chin down so that his lips almost brush Buck’s forehead as he speaks, a poor imitation of the way he wants to kiss him.

“You remember the sourdough french toast we had last Christmas? Where’s that? I want it.”

“Chris wants a dog for Christmas,” Eddie says, dropping his hand to the back of Buck’s neck and squeezing. The groan it draws out of Buck is enough for him to squeeze harder, and the little gasping noise he makes when Eddie rolls his thumb up behind Buck’s ear—“I think I’m gonna give in.”

“You should,” Buck says. “A big one. What do you want for Christmas?”

“Someone who will take care of a dog when Chris inevitably loses interest in twice-daily walks,” Eddie says, shaking his head. It bumps his chin against Buck’s head, and he catches himself just before he presses an apology kiss to the spot. “Dunno. It’s October, I haven’t thought about it. What do you want?”

“You,” Buck says sleepily. “And carbs. Maybe together, like, at the same time. Oh, you know those banana muffins you make and you make them into pumpkin muffins for Halloween? Do you have Christmas muffins? Like—wait, what would you put in Christmas muffins?”

“Maybe eggnog,” Eddie says, and then he blinks when everything Buck said filters through the haze covering his thoughts. “Wait. Did you—”

“Eggnog in muffins? Eddie, that’s gross.”

“‘s’not gross,” he says, because he makes amazing eggnog french toast—well, Sophia makes it, same thing—and he can’t see why eggnog muffins wouldn’t be delicious as well, but really there are more pressing issues here like “did you say—”

“You.”

His hand stills on Buck’s neck. “Like,” he says, slowly, trying to force reason through everything he’s had to drink tonight, “like—you want to spend Christmas together?”

Buck snorts, but he doesn’t say anything for a long moment and Eddie wonders if he’s drifting off to sleep, or if he’s having the same trouble trying to think clearly. “If that’s what you want me to mean,” he says finally, yawning. “You’re right, we should sleep.”

“I want to know what you meant,” Eddie says, and a second later Buck’s hand is cupping his jaw and pulling him down, tilting Eddie’s head as he brings him into an open-mouthed kiss; Eddie tastes the bitterness of the vodka on his tongue as Buck kisses him, swallows down the soft noises Buck makes, keeps his hands absolutely still against Buck’s body like if he moves it’ll break the spell. “If you forget this in the morning—” he says when Buck pulls away, and Buck laughs softly as he moves away, shaking out his limbs before standing up.

“I won’t,” he says. “Come on, you can sleep in my bed. I’ll keep my hands to myself, I promise.”

“I—” can’t make that promise, he thinks. His lips are still wet from Buck’s kiss, and he shakes his head. “No, I’ll sleep here. Don’t—just—”

“You worry too much,” Buck says, “I’m a little buzzed but not so drunk I’ll—” he trips over an errant shoe as he passes by, and Eddie reaches out to steady him. “Okay, just because I tripped doesn’t mean—”

“Just go to sleep,” Eddie says. “Goodnight.”

“Eddie.”

“Goodnight,” he says again, because maybe he can forget—or not forget, but convince himself that one kiss doesn’t mean that much, that the thrill it sent up his spine was just because it’s been so long, that—

“Goodnight,” Buck says, and he bends down to kiss Eddie’s forehead before he stumbles his way out of the living room and up the stairs. “You can come join me when your back starts to hurt, old man.”

Eddie flips him off, even though Buck can’t see, lays down, and prays.

-----

“God,” Buck groans the next morning, cursing loudly when he runs into a chair and it scrapes against the floor, “death would feel better than this. I want coffee. Come make it for me.”

“Just because I cave to a ten year olds whims doesn’t mean I’ll cave to yours,” Eddie says, pulling his arm down from where it had been over his eyes, blocking the sunlight. “Do you have to have so many damn windows?”

Buck’s been up for ten minutes, talking loudly to Eddie the entire time, and it’s all Eddie can do to lay there and pretend like his heart isn’t breaking. He knew it, he knew, he should have—stopped him, or something. Should have let the “you” go unanswered, ignored it, realized that being lonely and drunk caused a person to do things they didn’t mean and make promises they wouldn’t keep.

He closes his eyes again as Buck walks over to the couch, lets himself be manhandled into a seated position while Buck sprawls out next to him. He can do this—it’s just the same kind of contact they usually have. He’ll be fine.

“Whatever,” Buck mutters. “Here, I want you to listen to this,” he says, nudging Eddie until Eddie opens his eyes and looks at him. “Ready?”

“Sure,” Eddie says, waving a hand weakly. He’s not sure what he expects, but bells and Mariah Carey in October is definitely not it. “Buck.”

“Told you I wouldn’t forget,” Buck says, leaning against him. “I’d kiss you again but something died in my mouth overnight—”

Eddie leans over and hits the pause button on Buck’s phone. “I’m telling everyone you played me All I Want For Christmas is You, you know.”

“Good,” Buck says, grinning. “It was pretty romantic of me, right?”

“I think we have a very different idea of what is or isn’t romantic,” Eddie says, but he turns his head to the side and presses a kiss to the corner of Buck’s smile, then another, and has to pull himself back before he does anything else. “Let’s go talk about it during breakfast. I’ll take you out.”

“It’s a date,” Buck says, and leans in to kiss him again.