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monzabee · 2 years ago

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the first monday in may – dr3

masterlist || part 1 ||

Summary: The one where you and Daniel make your first outing as a couple at this year's Met Gala.

Pairing: daniel ricciardo x actress!reader

Word Count: 4288

Warnings: cursing, mentions of anxiety and medication, apart from that none?? fluffity fluff fluff

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i wrote this on a train and a plane, so if you see any grammar issues or typos or a sentence which doesn’t make any sense, no you didn’t. after mr daniel blessing us with his met look, i just knew i had to write something for it, so i really hope you guys enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it! please know that feedback is always appreciated and my inbox is always open for you guys!! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

A loud groan leaves your lips at the sound of the alarm, your hand reaching out to get a hold of your phone, but accidentally hitting something someone else. Daniel groans as you repeatedly try to hit the snooze button on his chest, and he tries to stop you by grabbing your wrist which is moving too quickly for his morning reflexes.

“Sweetheart– ow– Y/N,” he lets out a frustrated groan as he tries to turn away from you, “please stop hitting me.”

Thankfully for him, you choose to listen to his request as you roll away from him in an attempt to cover your ears with your pillow. “Make it stop, Danny.”

“Okay, just– gimme a second.” His voice is still thick from sleep, coming off more as a mumble than anything else, and his moves are sluggish as he reaches over you to turn off the alarm you’ve set the night before. “Here, done,” he breathes out as he lets himself fall back to his side of the bed, sideways, and breathy from moving quickly while still half-asleep. “Sweetheart, take your head out of there, you’re going to suffocate yourself.” Daniel mumbles, trying to coax you with this fingers leaving feathery touches on your arm and his lips leaving small kisses on the exposed skin of your neck. A lazy grin forms on his lips as you mumble something incoherent underneath your pillow, “I can’t understand you; you know.”

Your moves are almost jerky as you lift your head up and turn your body backwards to shoot him a sleepy glare, “I don’t want to wake up, let me sleep.” You go back to hugging your pillow as you close your eyes, your whiny voice making Daniel chuckle. “Stop laughing at me!”

“I can’t help it, you’re so grumpy in the mornings.” He continues to chuckle and proceed to sit up on the bed with his back against the headboard. “Pass me the phone?”

“You’re evil,” you mumble, reaching to the bedside table to retrieve his phone and turn towards him to hand it, “what time is it anyway?”

Daniel turns the phone on, his eyes burning due to the brightness of the screen as he recites, “6.30.”

“What kind of a person, in their right mind, would want to wake up in this damn hour?” You groan, hand reaching out to touch him in any way possible.

“You said you wanted to work out before all the commotion, sweetheart.”

You can hear his smile through his voice, which makes you finally open your eyes in irritation – though all your grumpiness disappears when your eyes level with his thigh. Your fingers move without their own volition as they start tracing through the helmet design of his tattoo, “Don’t listen to me, I’m crazy.”

“I thought I was the crazy one,” he reminds you, moving his eyes from the screen of his phone and flexing the muscles on his upper thigh to draw out an appreciative sigh from you, “eyes up here, Y/LN.”

You push your bottom lip out in a pout as you meet his eyes. “You know how it makes me feel like when you call me by my last name.”

“Your libido honestly concerns me.” He shakes his head, satisfied when he sees a small smile snaking its way on your lips, his voice is warm as he says, “Good morning, sweetheart.”

Pressing a soft kiss to the skin of his upper thigh, which is exposed thanks to his habit of sleeping without pants. You keep your eyes on his as you straighten up and press another kiss to his lips, resting your chin against his shoulder afterwards. “Good morning to you too, honey.”

He smiles, leaning down to give you a full bodied kiss which leaves you yearning for more; you seek him out as you follow his retreating form, which makes him smile wider as he gives into your wish. The kiss you share might be sweet starting out, but he knows better than to let you keep on going when you nip at his bottom lip. So, being the gentleman he is, he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours as he mumbles, “I take it back, you are very sweet in the mornings.”

The giggle he hears back from you is enough for him to know that this is the window he needs to take advantage of to get you out of bed, knowing that there is absolutely no way you’ll actually work out this morning. He successfully coxes you out of bed with promises of breakfast and morning coffee, directing you to the en-suite attached to your bedroom to help you with your morning routine. He holds your hair as you brush your teeth when it makes you frustrated because of the way it keeps getting in front of your face, and he watches you as you wash and apply numerous products on your face; moisturiser, eye cream, sun screen, and even stays still as you apply some on his face because “You should be treating yourself, especially today, Danny.” You hug him from behind and rest your face against his back as he brushes his own teeth, rambling about the day ahead of both of you. He makes sure to put on sweatpants and a t-shirt before going downstairs with you into the kitchen to make you breakfast and coffee as he promised, not in that order. You sit on the counter next to his work station as sip on your coffee and watch him prepare breakfast; he sings an old eighties song in an awfully off pitch, which makes you smile into the cup and let him steal some of the coffee from it. The two of you have your breakfast against the view of New York City, which is starting to become more and more alive as the time goes on.

“Are you excited for today?” He asks you, leaning against the back of the couch – the two of you are seated on the floor behind it to watch the city scape.

“Honestly?” You take a pause to try to choose the right words. “The only reason I’m remotely excited about it is because I know you’re going to be there. Are you excited?” You nudge him with your shoulder as you give him a playful grin. “The Daniel Ricciardo is making his Met Gala debut; how does it feel to be a rookie again?”

“Ha-fucking-ha,” he mockingly laughs, rolling his eyes at the sound of your laugh getting louder with a small smile forming on his lips, “I am excited, and I think we’re both going to have a lovely night.”

Your laughter continues as you poke him on his cheek repeatedly, making him join you as he starts laughing. “Look at you, being all optimistic and stuff.”

He pulls you over his lap, which ends you half-way straddling his thighs as you rest your hands on his shirt clad chest. “I’m the personification of sunshine, and don’t you ever forget it.”

The rest of the morning is spent with hushed whispers shared between you two, lazily cleaning up the kitchen to the sounds of an old record you found in your parents’ attic and took it back with you to your apartment in New York. Daniel still tries to keep up with the lyrics of the sound in his awfully off-pitched voice, claiming that he is not hearing what you claim would make “the Phantom of the Opera cry.” It’s an awfully domestic scene, a routine the two of you have been perfecting for a while since meeting each other, but it’s interrupted when the two of you hear the front door open, followed by a; “You better be awake and ready to go because I am not dealing with traffic today.”

You smile knowingly at Daniel before calling out, “In the kitchen!”

“Hi, Rosa, you want some coffee?” Daniel asks the woman, who enters into the kitchen with an angry look on her face. He gives you a peck on your forehead and moves towards the coffee machine without waiting for her answer, since he anticipates it’s going to be affirmative.

“Oh, he’s good.” Rosa mumbles, pointing to the man who hands her the cup.

The two of you share another laugh as Daniel returns to his position behind you, wrapping his arms around you. “Are you okay, Rosa?” You ask her as you try to get some of the pastries you had earlier ready for her.

“People are particularly stupid this morning, it must be in the air.” Your assistant mutters as she digs into the croissant, sighing as she takes her first bite. “You are an angel; they should consider you for the Nobel prize at some point in the future.”

“The least I can do is feed you,” you shrug, jumping slightly when Daniel squeezes your waist ever so slightly as a reminder to take the compliment – you turn to give him a look which makes it very clear for him to see you rolling your eyes. “How many photographers are there downstairs?”

“I love it when she refers to them as photographers, don’t you?” Rosa asks Daniel, and then turns her attention to you to answer your question, “A lot, which is why I need you to go get dressed so we can be early for your last fitting.”

You begrudgingly leave Daniel’s arms as you make your way towards the stairs and warning the two, “Do not gossip about me when I’m gone.”

“Wouldn’t dare dream of it, sweetheart.” Daniel nods with fake seriousness, laughing as you roll your eyes at him and poke your tongue before running up the stairs to get ready.

After managing to get ready in record time and making sure you have all the necessities for the day, you go back downstairs to say goodbye to your boyfriend for the day. There is a heavy look in his eyes as he cups your cheeks between his hands and tilts your head back to take a good look in your eyes.

“Don’t forget to call me if you’re feeling overwhelmed, okay?” Daniel asks, which comes off more as an assurance rather than a question. “Do you have everything you need?”

“I do, Danny.” You assure him, hands gripping the front of his shirt. “I’ll see you at the carpet, right?”

“Yeah,” his whisper hitting your lips as he repeats, “I’ll see you at the carpet.” After he gives you a final sweet kiss on the lips, which is interrupted by Rosa screaming for you to be quick, there is a dopey grin on his lips as he watches you walk away. “Who are you going to be wearing, again?” He asks, leaning against the counter.

You roll your eyes at his attempt to learn more about your dress – both of you having agreed not to show each other what you’re going to be dressed in just to enjoy the mystery of it all, you only know the designers both of you are going to be dressed in. “I’ll be the one in Chanel!” You call out to him as you walk out the door.

It’s not that you hate getting ready, not at all. In fact, you love sitting in a chair for three consecutive hours without having to make any moves as the light is shining in your eye. You’re glad to endure the entire process with your team, though, who manage to make the time go faster by continuously talking to you and helping you take your mind off of the anxiety starting to form at the back of your mind. Not only do you have to get ready for one of the most publicly scrutinised events of the year, you’re going to be wearing a dress which you cannot, under any circumstances, spill something on or harm in any way – and the top it all off, your entire process of getting ready is being filmed for one of the most watched YouTube channels of the most famous fashion magazine. So yes, the anxiety you’re starting to feel is not displaced at all.

The makeup-hair-nail extravaganza is interrupted by a delivery, which Rosa doesn’t allow you to go receive at the door in your robe, so while she handles the delivery, you’re stuck with three pairs of curious eyes.

“I wonder who it could be from.” Rosa smiles covertly as she hands you the flowers and the small package that is wrapped up in a bag.

You try to appear cool in front of everyone – but fail miserably as you mumble, “I wouldn’t know, I haven’t read the card yet.” After placing the vase full of colourful flowers onto the table, you spot a card attached which you take off and hold it close to your chest in a playful manner as you read it out loud, “‘You’re my celebrity girl crush’”.

“Is that supposed to be an inside joke?” Mark whispers loudly to Rosa who’s standing next to him as he peruses his make-up bag to find the right colour for your blush.

“Oh who cares?” Your hair artist, Miranda, sighs behind you. “He sent her flowers! Open the box, open the box.”

You roll your eyes at their antics as you open the small box that was in the bag, revealing three thin gold bands, which are decorated by small diamonds. A gasp comes from the man next to you, who is shaking his head in approval as he points to the ring box. “Oh he’s good, they are gorgeous!”

“You know what they say,” you mumble, smiling softly, “all good things come in three’s.”

Rosa gives you a mischievous look, “Isn’t Daniel’s driver’s number three, Y/N?”

You can feel the blush coming onto your cheeks as you wave your assistant off and duck your head slightly to get away from the amused looks of your colleagues, “Stop it.”

After hours of preparation and shooting, followed by the task of getting you into your dress for the evening (which involved lacing up a very stubborn corset) and a round of “Should the hair be up or down”, you’re finally leave after completing the last touches of your look. You try your best at standing still as you let Miranda fasten the headpiece onto your hairdo, which she manages to complete pretty quickly. The trek to the car is chaotic to say the very least, but you manage to do your best as you walk through the doors of your hotel and smile at the flashing cameras and shouting fans while you walk to the van. Having to stand in the van in order not to damage the form of the dress you’re wearing, you think the worse part of the night is over – the only thing you have to do is meet Daniel on the carpet, pose, go up the stairs and enjoy the rest of the night; easy. Which is exactly why you end up close to losing your mind when the car suddenly stops moving.

“Oh my god, please tell me we didn’t just stop in the middle of the road.” Rosa mumbles from her seat.

You take a deep breath as you answer, “I’m sure we didn’t stop in the middle of the road–”

“There are protestors on the street, in front of the other car.” The driver replies from the front seat.

“Wh-who’s in the car front?” You ask Rosa, confused, as she furiously types away on her phone.

“Paris Hilton,” she mumbles, looking up at you, “I’m sure we’ll be there on time, just a bit delayed. I need you to keep calm, okay?”

The whine that leaves your lips has her looking at you worried, “I need– can you please give me my phone?”

She hands you your phone from her bag per your request, watching you struggle with your phone. “Y/N, do you need to take your medicine? Just to calm your nerves down a little bit?”

“No, they make me sleepy.” You mumble, finally finding his contact and calling him, “I’m fine I just need to tell Daniel.”

“Sweetheart.” His voice filling your ears as you take a deep breath. “Oh my god, you didn’t tell me how crazy it was in here!”

The excitement in his voice is enough to calm some of your nerves, “Yeah, you’re having fun?”

“Fun?” He exclaims, “I just saw Jared Leto come out of a cat suit, Y/N!”

“What?” You let out a breathy laughter, your eyes are on Rosa who is trying to talk to the driver. “That is crazy.”

“I know, I wish you were here to see it, too. Where are you anyway?”

“I– I’m stuck.” You confess, hand gripping the seat you’ve been using as support tighter.

“Stuck?” He asks, his voice conveying how confused he is. “Is everything okay? Where is Rosa?”

“She is here, Danny, there are protestors on the street so it looks like I’m going to be late.” Your eyes keep watching the scene around you with you trying to see whether the people are moving as your voice wavers at the end. “Paris Hilton is also late though, so at least we’ll be fashionably late together.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Daniel coos, his voice sounding so soothing to you, “don’t worry, okay? I’ll just wait for you down here.”

You let out a disagreeing hum. “They won’t let you; they need to have people move along so they can stick to the schedule.”

“Then I’ll just wait for you at the top of the stairs,” Daniel announces, “Kris Jenner did it for her kids, didn’t she?”

“I– What– ” You scramble to put the words together, making Rosa frown at you. “How do you even know that?”

“You obviously doubt my ability to keep up with the Kardashians, sweetheart. Now breath for me, will you?”

Daniel ends up staying with you on the phone until he is called up. You can tell he is hesitant to leave you, but you assure him that you’ll see him when you get there. Lucky for you, the crowd end up scattering and the car starts moving once again. You let out a relieved breath, but pray that no other complications arise until you make it to the Met. When the car stops again and Rosa informs you that you’ve made it to the location, you feel as if there is a big weight being lifted off your shoulders. You don’t even remember getting off the van and going inside or even stepping on to the carpet, but your short-lived dissociation is cut in half when you hear your name being shouted over and over again. You do your best to pose for every single camera even if the flashes are hurting your eyes once Rosa gently moves you along to help you onto the stairs, and you follow her as you pose for the las time looking over your shoulder with a wide smile – a pose you give every year, which the media dubbed as being yours and your mother manages to find new places to hang around the house after every year’s gala. You shoot Rosa a grateful look as she helps you move up the stairs by linking her arm with yours and lifting your dress for you to move more freely.

You’re almost out of breath when you reach the top of the stairs, but there is a smile on your face as you hear, “We have another bride, ladies and gentleman, another one!” You look around to the source of the voice a loud laugh escaping you when you locate it. Emma hums the Wedding March as you make your way over to her, also singing, “Here comes the bride.”

“It’s so good to see you again!” You smile at her, quickly giving her a hug. “Three years in a row? I’m so proud of you!”

“Oh stop it, I’m never going to keep this gig if I blush on camera!” Emma laughs, pointing to your outfit. “Obviously, we have another Chanel Bride here, but what can you tell us about your look today?”

“Well, it’s Bridal Chanel – from my mother’s collection actually. She decided to buy this for me before I was even born, so than you mom,” you tip your head to the camera and lift your fingers up in a mock salute, “sorry for not wearing it for my actual wedding.”

“Oh, no!” Emma gasps, “Was she angry with you for not saving it for your wedding?”

“I don’t think so?” You wave her off, laughing as you assure her, “We were looking at different looks to pull from the archives, and I always ask her opinion on these things, actually she was the one suggested it.”

She nods in understanding, smiling as she tips her microphone. “Well that’s a relief! What are your thoughts about this year’s theme for the Met Gala?”

You widen your eyes playfully, taking a moment to choose your words very wisely. “Yeah, I mean Karl was such a big influence in the fashion industry, but I think the important part about tonight’s theme is that creativity and fashion brings people together, and when people do come together beautiful things happen; that’s what I’m choosing to focus on.”

“That’s a beautiful way to put it actually,” Emma praises your answer, pointing to your hands as she asks, “And as a last question, what can you tell us about your jewellery? I mean I love all the bling you have on you right now.”

That manages to pull another laugh out of you, and you show the camera your hands for a moment as you answer her question. “The necklace was a wedding gift from my father to my mother, which is why it makes it so special; I think. As for the rings, most of them are mine but my boyfriend got me the gold ones, so they are very special as well”

“Well, thank you for answering a few questions for us tonight, and I hope you have a wonderful night!”

Right as you turn back to leave after saying goodbye to Emma and her team, your eyes lock with a very familiar set of brown eyes. The breath is knocked out of your lungs when you take in his attire, your legs taking you to his waiting arms in no time. You can’t help the giggle sneaking out of your mouth as you look up to him with a wide smile to match the one on his own face, “I am sending Thom Browne a thank-you card, and a fruit basket.”

“You like?” Daniel asks, raising a brow and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You let your fingers toy with the bowtie resting on his neck, “Oh, I love.”

His voice is smug as he lowers his voice, “I’m glad, sweetheart.”

“You in tweed does something to me,” you mumble, hands going over to feel the fabric of his jacket, “and don’t even get me started on the damn bowtie.”

“The bowtie is doing it for you?” Daniel laughs, and it is a full-bodied one where he throws his head back. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Do I look like I’m joking, honey?” You ask him in a deadpan voice. “I love this, I want you to wear this around the house, please.”

“Well, since you asked nicely.” Daniel nods. He takes your hands in his as he makes you twirl around for him to see your whole outfit, smiling at you boyishly when you face him again, “I was not expecting you to see you in a wedding dress when I woke up this morning.”

“Well, it’s Chanel.” You emphasise what you’ve told him earlier this morning, which he responds to by attempting to tickle you by your waist through the corset of your dress.

He tilts his head as he looks at you without any hint of joking, but his voice is the opposite as he asks, “Hey, you wanna get married after this?”

“Yeah sure, can I still take you home tonight afterwards?”

“You can always take me home, sweetheart.” He wiggles his eyebrows, pulling get another giggle from you. “Now, before we go inside and lose ourselves in all the food and the alcohol, is it going to ruin your makeup if I kiss you?”

You raise your eyebrows as you playfully smile at him. “I might not make it through tonight if you don’t kiss me right now, honey.”

“Well, when you say it like that,” he murmurs, pulling you towards himself with the help of his hands on your waist, and capturing your lips in a long awaited kiss. His lips are unbelievably soft, you realise, as your eyes close and suddenly all you care about the man in your eyes. The camera flashes doesn’t slow down the way Daniel kisses you, it’s one of those kisses he gives you when the two of you see each other after it’s been a while. A groan rumbles from the back of your throat when he scrapes his teeth against your lower lip, the pad of his thumb and his pointer finger angling your chin to give him a better access. You can hear the smirk in his voice as he pulls away, leaving you chasing after his lips while they touch yours as he speaks in a low voice, “I told you; you shouldn’t have doubted my ability to keep up with the Kardashians.”

You let out a breathy chuckle as you mumble, “Just kiss me, idiot,” and pull him in another kiss by his neck.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo fluff

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titaniasfairy · 9 months ago

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can we please get a little something about soap and his puppy!girlfriend while she’s in heat??? she’s whining and begging to be fucked for a little relief and johnny is happy to oblige <3 maybe with a hint of breeding kink too?? 🫣

YES I CANNNNN

18+ MDNI

if you don’t like the content, don’t read it. i’m not going to put up with people in my inbox complaining about the media they choose to consume

cw: somno/dub-con, breeding kink, mean-ish!johnny, puppy!reader, afab reader

with the early rising of the sun, you’re rudely awaken by the overwhelming feeling of arousal flooding your panties and sending jittery butterflies to your tummy.

your thighs clench, trying to satisfy you of your newfound desire that comes to you every month. next to you is your poor owner, fast asleep on the other side of the bed.

you don’t want to disturb the scot, but it’s nearly impossible when your own body is betraying you by sending filthy thoughts to your head.

turning over, you see him fast asleep only in his boxers with the thin sheet covering his lower half. it would be cruel of you to wake him up.

so you don’t.

slowly removing the bedsheet from over your lover, you climb on top of him, your panty-clad cunt sat perfectly on his clothed bulge. you begin to grind on the man, rutting your hips against his semi-hard cock while your tail whips back and forth behind you eagerly.

instinctively, you bend forward to nuzzle your face into the crook of johnny’s neck, inhaling his scent and listening to his breathing while you continue to grind your clit on his still-sleeping form.

after a few moments you begin to whine out, the ever so often brushing of your clit against him not being enough for your needy cunt. your hands begin to run up and down johnny’s chest, fingers flicking his sensitive nipples that harden from the cold morning air.

you start grinding harder onto him, ass moving forward and backward on johnny’s boxers as his breathing begins to pick up and his cock begins to harden under you.

“steamin’ jesus, pup. what’re ya doin’?”

his eyes open to see your mostly-naked body, tits out and pussy covered in your now soaked pretty panties grinding on his cock. the sight makes him moan out and let out a gaelic curse under you.

“m’sorry, johnny! just needed you so badly..”

johnny’s arms wrap around you to assist you in fucking yourself on his bulge. his pretty cerulean eyes stare into your needy ones.

“i know puppy.. i know what time it is f’ya.”

he always keeps track of your cycles and knows what days exactly you’re expected to go into heat, but this time your heat came a day early.

“please, johnny, please take care of me.”

johnny kisses your forehead and rubs your fluffy ears before pulling down his boxers and releasing his painfully hard cock, tip furiously red and throbbing while you eagerly rid yourself of your soiled panties.

“c’mon, pup, let me fucked that cunt dumb f’ya.”

you’re practically dripping as johnny lines his tip with your entrance, when without warning, johnny thrusts his hard cock into your tight gummy walls.

you moan out into the sunlit bedroom, tears welling up in your eyes as johnny begins to fuck into your cunt, rough hands on your hips and his pelvis smacking into yours.

“what a fuckin’ slag, waking me up n’the mornin’ just to get her pussy ruined and filled by her owner.”

“fuck! yes please-”

“yeah? you wanna get bred by your owner, pup? dirty bitch.”

safe to say johnny did not go into work that day, rather spending his time draining his balls into your tight holes instead <3

ty for the ask <3

#bear rambles #cod mwii #john soap mctavish smut #soap smut #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader

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rkvriki · 2 years ago

Text

— being interrupted by the other members ! (maknae line)

hey everyone!! here is the maknae line of this post, i hope you enjoy it !!

make sure to leave feedback . my asks are open and so is my inbox so let's talk!!

WARNINGS ! this is not proofread, might have grammar errors; contains light cursing. a/n: i hate this one !! i was out of inspiration to write this, i'm so sorry :( still i hope you can enjoy it !

word count: 1.5k !

SUNOO !

sunoo didn't mind any comments made by the others about him, but if you were involved it's another story.

sunoo and you would be in his bed at the dorms, spending some time together since he just came from tour.

you were doing the new face masks he bought for your weekly skincare sessions.

“i saw these cute masks with bears on them and they reminded me of you!!” sunoo told you as he carefully put one on your face, spreading it evenly while gently massaging it.

after he was done you kissed his lips gently, making him smile tightly at you showing his crescent moon shaped eyes.

as you were doing your skincare routine, you two went on about what happened while he was on tour, which was mostly you rambling about something bothering you at college.

“...and I couldn't believe she really said that straight to my face!”

“yes, how cruel is she!!” sunoo said agreeing with you even though he didn’t even know who you were talking about.

as you went on with your rambling, sunoo was just staring at you and i swear if it were a cartoon he would have hearts in his eyes.

“...so as i was about to give in my test he literally- what? is there something on my face?” you said, grabbing your phone to look at your reflection. sunoo let out a giggle and hugged you in his arms leaving you confused.

“no, you’re just so pretty and i’m literally in love with you!” he said, keeping you in his safe embrace. (pls i would kill to have sunoo like this)

you pulled away from his arms looking at him, admiring his features, and pulled him into a sweet kiss.

sunoo giggled as you two were kissing, making you smile into the kiss.

“two new episodes from the series we were watching came out this week, we should watch them.” sunoo said as he started laying down in his bed and grabbing his ipad to open the series.

you agreed and laid next to him, cuddling his side.

“i bet they are arguing now and then be alright in the next episode, it’s always like that!” you said watching as the two characters were having an intensive argument.

“i don't know, maybe they will only make up in the last episode just to leave us on a cliffhanger.”

it’s been almost an hour since you were watching the series and you started feeling your eyes getting heavy as the time went by.

you finally gave in to sleep and let your eyes flutter shut and you listened to sunoo’s calm and soothing heartbeat.

“see! i knew they weren’t-” sunoo stopped talking when he realized you were fast asleep in his arms. laughing softly at you, he admired your sleeping state. how your eyelashes rested against your cheeks and how your lips were slightly parted, letting out soft noises, that he found so cute.

turning off his ipad, he set it on the bedside table and let his own eyes shut and drift off to sleep.

“oh my god jake, this is perfect black mail.” niki said as he took pictures of you and sunoo sleeping with your maks hanging half off your face.

jake was trying to hold in his laugh while he watched niki.

“pls send that to the group chat, this is so good!”

sunoo eyes shot open as he started listening to voices in the room. niki quickly put his phone away, trying not to laugh, while jay ran out of the room while laughing.

“what are you brats doing? get out before she wakes up!” sunoo told niki and he went straight out of the room.

sunoo looked back to check on you and you were still in your deep sleep, making him wonder how you could be such a heavy sleeper.

sunoo smiled and went back to sleep with you after taking both of your masks off.

sunoo is so boyfie omg

jungwon minds it, you on the other hand don’t.

he had invited you to spend the evening with him at the dorms so you guys could have a sleepover.

everytime you came over jungwon would have a whole routine planned, so nothing could ruin your time together. nothing excluding his members. they could ruin it.

“wonie!! i missed you so much, baby!!!” you hugged jungwon tightly as you greeted him. jungwon smiled as he gave your lips a peck, making your heart flutter.

you both got in and sat on the couch as you chatted for a while.

"let's play mario kart!!” jungwon suggested starting your fun day together at home.

he got the game ready while you went in the kitchen to get snacks and drinks to feed you throughout the game.

you both sat on the couch, grabbing the controllers, as you got ready to play the game.

“let’s use mario and princess peach to match!” you told him happily, already choosing princess peach as your character. jungwon playfully rolled his eyes but still chose mario, just to make you happy.

“jungwon stop leaving banana peels please, how am i supposed to win!!!” you complained as your character slided through another banana peel, making you fall some places behind.

jungwon just laughed at you, smirking proudly as the screen showed he was in the first place.

seeing his proud expression, you kicked his leg lightly, making him wince dramatically, to which you rolled your eyes.

as you were playing, you heard the front door opening, the boys arriving from wherever they were.

they reached the living room and their eyes landed on you and jungwon playing.

“y/n!!! HIII!!” sunoo said greeting you.

“hi sunoo!! haven’t seen you in so long!!” you greeted him back loosing focus on the game.

“y/n, pay attention you are gonna lose!!” jungwon told you making you focus back on the game.

“oh y/n! hi, long time no see!!” heeseung said, greeting you as he sat next to you on the couch.

“oh! hey seungie! how’ve you been?”

you and heeseung started engaging in a conversation making you forget about the game.

jungwon looked at you but you didn’t even notice him as you were so into the conversation.

he started huffing and rolling his eyes, as he closed the game and by the looks of it you didn’t even notice.

“...and we did many things and-” heeseung suddenly stopped talking about the tour and started looking behind him. you looked in that direction seeing jungwon glaring at the older boy with an annoyed expression.

you giggled at that, seeing he was slightly jealous you weren’t giving him your attention.

jungwon looked at you and rolled his eyes, grabbing his phone and ignoring you making you laugh even more.

on day of peace for leader won please 🙏

with riki it wouldn’t exactly be interrupting.

he invited you to go out and for a sleepover.

he was touch deprived from tour and wanted nothing more than your presence so you served his wishes.

you both were in his room in the dark, ready to sleep, in the comfort of his blankets and warm bed.

you had your eyes closed, ready to drift to dreamland, when you head niki shaking slightly.

“niki are you ok-” you were interrupted as your boyfriend started laughing making you confused.

“what can be so funny at 2 30 in the morning in the full darkness?” you asked him with an annoyed tone, but honestly you weren’t that sleepy.

“nothing, it’s just- i can imagine how your face looks in the dark.” he told you, still laughing at you.

you sighed at his behavior and got up to turn on the lights as he wouldn’t stop laughing.

“niki if you don’t want to sleep you could’ve just said so.” you told him rolling your eyes and sitting back in bed.

“let’s do something else, please. i’m bored and i don’t feel like sleeping.”

“ok, like what?”

—---

that’s how you found yourselves in his room with his computer positioned in a high place as you were in the fifth youtube video of a just dance choreography.

you were both laughing loudly, not noticing the clock already struck 3 am and the others were all sleeping.

“niki you’re going the wrong way dumbass!!”

“shut up im not!!”

you two kept going at it until the door open revealing and messy haired jungwon with a not-so-happy expression, looking rather annoyed.

you both stopped pretty much in a 🧍 position, as you were getting ready to get scolded.

“do you guys know what time it is?? you kids go to sleep now!” jungwon told you as you and niki got under the covers, waiting for him to close the door.

as you heard the door click, you both started laughing quietly at jungwon’s scolding.

niki is a brat and jungwon doesn’t stand for that!

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once-upon-an-imagine · 8 months ago

Text

It's been a very long week and it being that time of the month definitely did not help 😂 I've had more mood swings than I felt in a while and I am so exhausted! so I am going to bed but I want to write and update Smile this weekend but I only have a few sentences and ideas written down so far (anyone who wants to come into my inbox with suggestions or ideas is more than welcome!)

I also have some stories that I already started and are either half-way there or literally only one part missing 😂 so I wanna try writing one of those next!

thank you for always voting and for all your patience and love, dearies! summaries and descriptions of each request are below!

Argyle - Cielito Lindo

[Byers!Reader] Argyle is staying with your family when his parents are out of town. You know he’s been feeling down because he has to celebrate his birthday without them. So, you try to do something to cheer him up. (Sequel to Build Me Up, Buttercup) [Not requested]

Billy Hargrove - A Little Death

Anonymous - Where the reader is known to break hearts. Not because its fun for her but she does it to protect herself and the person. She is convinced that whoever gets close to her heart either ends up hurting her or she ends up hurting them so she always ends it by leaving them - ultimately hurting them before they can hurt her. When Billy starts getting interested in her and she suddenly leaves just when he thought things were going good, he doesn’t back down to find out why and once he does he makes it his mission to show her that he is there to stay and protect, despite being known for leaving and destroying. 2. Anonymous - since you are taking requests, could i request a Billy fic with the following prompts from the prompt list you talked about in your latest post ? “Wake up. You have to wake up. Please. For me.” “Just, please don’t leave me.” “I don’t want you to die for me. I want you to live for me.” + “As you begin to fall asleep, you feel a gentle kiss pressed to your temple and a blanket draped over you.”

Billy Hargrove - RIP, Love

1. Anonymous - Where the reader breaks up with Billy because he has been toxic and Billy goes and tries to find love in other women. But he gets frustrated because they don’t touch him (physically and mentally) the way the reader always did. He gets angry trying to teach them but none come close to the actual thing until he gets so frustrated that he crawls back to her and tries everything to fix it. 2. Anonymous - “I feel like I’m falling apart.” with Billy Hargrove?

Billy Hargrove - Highway To Hell

[Munson!Reader] When you are tired of your brother and your boyfriend arguing all the time, you come up with a plan that finally makes them work together and at least not murder each other.

Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson - Pink Shirt

This was not requested is just a small thought I had based on the fourth pic of this post

Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson - Any Way You Want It

Against your boyfriends’ wishes, you decide it’s what’s best for everyone if you are the bait for Vecna. You stay back in the attic with Max and Lucas. Steve and Eddie try to make it back as quickly as they can but it might be too late. (Warning: reader is cursed by Vecna and gets hurt) [I have renamed this story like 50 times 😂 ]

Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson - Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now

Everyone in your group could feel the sexual tension between you, Steve, and Eddie. Which is probably why they all ganged up and planned to have the three of you share a bed to see if you would finally admit your feelings.

Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson - A Sunday Kind Of Love

For six months, you had been fine with having a secret relationship with Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson. But that changes when a very special day for you approaches and you want them both by your side and for that to happen, a few rules might get broken. [Not Requested]

Sirius Black - Just Give Me A Reason (Ch5)

[Snape!Reader] Coming back for another year in Hogwarts meant you and your brother were away from your worst tormentor. But when your school tormentor finds out about it, things are about to change and you are not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. (Warning: mentions of abuse)

Charlie Weasley - Jaded (Ch2)

Charlie Weasley had been the biggest pain in the ass for the majority of your life. Especially now that you had to survive two weeks with him, and four dragons.

Evan Buckley - Brave

[Not requested] something I’ve been thinking of where Evan notices something’s making you upset when you reveal your new haircut to the team and it leads to some confessions (a bit angsty but happy ending)

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves · 2 years ago

Note

Can we get some mha headcanons? Maybe of Aizawa?

A mha ask? In MY inbox?? Wild??? I'm just starting to open my inbox again, so hopefully we get more of these!

Aizawa can sleep anywhere at any time. No place is too uncomfortable for him, and while he prefers something quiet, he can easily fall asleep in a crowded, busy room, so long as no one is trying to bother him.

Aizawa not only has weapons on his person, but snacks. He forgets to eat meals a lot, so he needs to have something on hand for when he DOES remember. He keeps simple things in there, fruit pouches (his personal favorite is a pear/celery blend. He finds celery delicious, which I thought of given a line from the manga), candies. Present Mic steals a lot of it when he's not paying attention.

Aizawa loves cats, but he has a soft spot for those with blue eyes. For. Reasons.

He may act grumpy, but truth be told, he's flattered when Mic includes him in things. Like when Mic was driving him and Sniper to work, blasting 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton, he let Aizawa sing certain parts, even if he insisted he just wanted to nap on the way to school.

He helps Eri do different hairstyles, but only when she asks. Eri trusts him, but Aizawa is trying to get her used to finally having boundaries with people.

He. Loves. Kids. Oh my god he may act grumpy but if you put a kid in his hands, he will watch them with his life. Seriously, Rock Lock asked him to hold onto his little man, and upon going back for him, Aizawa was trying to see how he looked in his goggles. He asked Rock Lock for five more minutes.

Aizawa doesn't have a favorite food, but he likes salty snacks, and enjoys sushi.

Mic makes Aizawa half ass sing a lot. But when Aizawa actually puts his whole bussy into it, he's actually a BEAUTIFUL singer. Not many have heard it, but Present Mic loves it, especially when they're alone together.

Aizawa much prefers being at home. Despite how often he sleeps at school, he's CONSTANTLY on edge. But let me tell you, there's a huge visual difference the second he makes his way through his front door. He ACTUALLY smiles.

Aizawa loves having his hair and scalp touched, but his absolute favorite spot, is the spot right under his eyes, where you'd get eyebags. If you hold his face carefully, strum your thumbs alongside his skin, he melts on the spot.

Compared to Present Mic, he has like, NO beauty routine. He only shaves his face for important things like interviews, and he will shave NOTHING else. Not that we mind.

Aizawa loves drinking. Not an alcoholic by any means, but teaching his bunch of idiots, he NEEDS a beer. A couple.

Him and Vlad constantly argue over which is better, dogs or cats. They are so close to killing each other when the topic comes up. However, Vlad only trusts Aizawa to dog sit, should his usual sitter be unavailable.

Aizawa can and will beat the shit out of kids. Put them in near death situations, whatever. But he tries so hard not to curse in front of them. Which is. So hard. In his head, he's a swearing machine.

He loves all of his students. But suffice to say, he has some favorites. From his class, he adores Tsuyu, Shoji, Momo. Why? They're the least problematic, and they're QUIET. Oh and Koda, because he brought a cat to class once.

#not transformers #mha #asks #Aizawa #I'm gonna TRY to do some asks before January #aint gonna do shit on January #shota aizawa

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zukkaoru · 3 years ago

Note

zuko: all i wanna do is spend the day with toph… and katara… and aang… and suki… and… sokka…

and

ring ring

the phone rings

aNsWeR iT

oh hey, toph, i’m swamped with business,,,

stocks bonds and,,, golden parachutes,,,

remember those days on the *not football* field, toph? last weekend feels like,,,

aGeS agO

w h a t?

toDAY?

afTER WORK?

oN tHe *not football* fiELD?

the old stomping ground aye toph?

just you… and me… and katara… and aang… and suki… and…

…

sOKKA💕🥰😩🤩😍❤️‍🔥🥺😻👾😏🐧🐣🦆🐢🎧

5 o’clock???

I’ll see you then, tOpH

I’ll see you then

[henry and chad had a thing going on don’t @ me and I meant every emoji. let sokka have let cancelling headphones ig]

[for the love of agni, nOt the gOLDEN PARACHUTES free zuko from the business]

WAKE UP BABES NEW GRACE AND COREY AU JUST DROPPED

now presenting...

✨💞working boys zukka au💞✨

in their college days, zuko and sokka were inseparable. of course, everyone in the gaang was close, but zuko and sokka had a... special bond that went deeper than the others'. and that special bond. was

love

tragically, after graduation, the gaang fell out of touch. they all went their separate ways, and zuko and sokka were never able to admit how they felt for each other.

BUT

might a musical apocalypse be able to change all that? after all - what better time to admit you've been in love with someone for half your life than the end of the world as we know it?

(or will zuko make it to sokka too late? will sokka have already turned into a mindless singing creature, leaving zuko to die knowing he never got to tell sokka how he really felt?)

coming soon to the tags in random stuff we reblog that makes us think of this au near you!!

#corey i love you #but you cursed my inbox with this while i was half asleep #so now you have to wake up to working boys zukka au joining the ranks of #locked room au #and #my immortal au #<3 #working boys zukka au #corey tag #asks #also idk what sport they all play besides football #maybe they're just theatre kids and they agree to meet up on stage #OR THEY COULD BE IN MARCHING BAND #and then they can still meet up on the football field! just not for football reasons #there we go solved it #you're welcome #i hope you all enjoy having to see this on your dash at 6am :)

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sunflowersandforgetmenots · 3 years ago

Text

An Offering on the Throne

I am Incredibly Gay. @badasserywomen had fanart of Eivor that inspired this, where she’s slumped a bit in a throne while her muscles are all oawfuhwfhuw. Anyways. This is my first smut like. Ever. So be nice. Feel free to drop brainrot into my inbox!

Summary: A heavy rain has put you and Eivor alone in the longhouse. Of course you take advantage of being completely alone, but Eivor wants to use the throne for more than just sex.

Pairing: Eivor x Reader

Genre: Smut

MINORS DNI. 18+ UNDER THE CUT.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

It wasn't everyday that you were alone in the longhouse with Eivor. But here you were, alone with your lover, sitting in the main room together as the rain pelted down in hard sheets outside. It was a bad storm, even more than what you usually got, but it was something that Valka had made sure Ravensthorpe was prepared for. A whole week was spent reinforcing homes and caring for livestock, and luckily, no one needed to flee to the longhouse for safety. Randvi and Sigurd had even left for the week, having decided that maybe the latter needed some time away after his kidnapping, to adjust to a safe life before coming back for his duties, though something in you suspected that he would not be returning to them.

So it was you and Eivor, all alone in the longhouse. Honestly it was a lot more cozy than you had expected, and a lot less... sexually charged. Not to say that either of you didn't think about the idea, but it was just... a comfortable aloneness, like this was just how your home normally was. But you had been thinking about it, how you'd be able to be loud with no one able to hear it, how both of you would be able to fill up the empty space with loving words and lewder sounds. It was especially harder to not think about with how both of you were sitting.

You were on the floor, sitting on the rugs next to the throne, reading a small book that Eivor had found (looted) from a church, something that had been confiscated from some poor townsgoer. And your lover, oh the beautiful testament to power she was, was sitting on the throne of the longhouse, slouched half asleep on the wooden thing, legs spread just a bit. It was warm in the longhouse, despite the rain, and it showed with her garb, pants that sat low on the hips and her usual wraps around her chest, tattoos and muscles on full display. It was distracting and attractive. And you were cursing her internally for it. Of course she had to be all sexy and powerful when you were trying to read. Horrible, horrible woman.

You buried your nose in your book, trying to focus on the words, but each time she moved, even so much as a twitch, your eyes darted up to look at her. At one point, she must have noticed this behavior, because after the tenth time, her hand brushed your cheek, long fingers sliding under your chin to tilt your face up at her. "You keep looking at me, dove. Shall I get an explanation, or will you continue your book?"

Your face burned bright, and that seemed to be enough of an answer for her. The grin on her face sent pangs of heat through your body, settling at that little spot in your abdomen.

"Put the book down." Her tone was commanding, soft but firm, and her touch on your chin strengthened just enough for it to become a hold. The books slipped out of your hands more than you actually putting it down, but the result was the same: Eivor guiding you by the chin to settle between her legs, sitting on your knees with your face pointed up at her. "You're such a good girl for me, (Y/N)..." The praise sent a shock down your spine, and you straightened, eagerly waiting her next move.

"I try." You admitted meekly, earning a chuckle from her. "Sit back again." And this time, she was the one to listen. She was always so sweet to you. When you first met, you assumed that she was the type to take full control all of the time, never budging on her rules. But she wasn't. One flash of puppy eyes, or a request in the sweetest of tones, and Eivor gave in easily. It was a wonder she hadn't had found a lover sooner, honestly. But she was yours now, and you hers.

You stood up, shedding the loose outer layer of your clothes, leaving you in your thin shift, never breaking eye contact with your shieldmaiden. As you moved forward, she brings her hands up, settling them on your hips and pulling you in. Her grin widened a bit more as you straddled her waist, looking down at her as she's still just a bit slouched in the throne.

"Hello there, gorgeous." She purred, taking advantage of the way your shift rode up your thighs by slipping a hand to rest against the soft flesh. "You know... if I had known you were feeling like this, I would have gotten my cock out from the drawers."

"Too bad. You're not getting up until I beg for it, Eivor."

Her eyes lit up, and her hands hooked around the back of your thighs, gripping you tightly and making you gasp. She tugged just a bit, making you brush against her belt. The resulting gasp was loud and sharp, making you slap a hand over your mouth. This was playing a dangerous game now. She was going to fuck you silly, and you could tell with that dangerous glint in her eyes that it was not going to stop until you were mush in her arms. Could she tell how wet you were, with how your cunt was pressed against her abs, covered by a thin layer of fabric?

"Beg for it you say..." You felt a finger trail over the hill of your thigh, down between your legs, and your stomach tightened. "Oh, I think I can manage that, my love... You're already begging for it in every way except your words."

"What... makes you think that?" You rested your own hands on her shoulders, gently digging into the muscles covered in black ink. Your hips rock into her touch, just a bit, the friction of the belt pressing into you along with her finger barely coasting over making you feel even hotter.

"You climbed into my lap so eagerly... sitting on my lap like you're begging me to fuck you, with your legs spread and cunt dripping all over me." Her finger pressed just a bit harder against your wetness, curling a bit to swipe up. "It's like you want to be fucked on this throne, taking my cock while I make you scream things only Thor can hear right now."

"Eivor..." The whimper was near pitiful, and she hadn't even kissed you yet. "Touch me."

"I am touching you, my sweet."

"That's not what I-" Her lips cut you off, pressing into your soft ones with a searing heat. The change in position made you panic, falling back as position forced you to be horizontal instead of vertical, but her hand, the one that was holding your thigh, quickly caught you, holding you up by the small of your back. It wasn't much, but the idea that the only thing keeping you from slipping off of her lap was her single hand and your grip around her shoulders was exhilarating.

Her lips were hot against yours, moving at a passionate pace as her free hand quickly pulled your shift up over your waist. As her fingers trailed down your stomach, she pulled away, breathing a bit heavy. "Fuck..." She cursed as her fingers dipped below the linen at your hips, hitting your heat. Her fingers brushed against your opening, drawing out a soft moan, nails digging into the blonde's back.

You spent the next few seconds preparing for her fingers to press into you, to bury themselves to the knuckle in your softness. But they never did, instead gently caressing you, dipping between your slit to slowly gather your wetness before trailing up to circle your clit. It was maddening, the slow back and forth repetition forcing you to have to rock your own hips to get any change in pace.

You moaned, loud and low in a way that echoed off the empty wooden walls of the longhouse, and tangled your hands in her hair. Her lips were pressed against your throat, moreso resting there than actively kissing, and the hand holding you up, pulled you in, pressing your chest against hers and pushing you further into her lap. It was harder to move now, and you cursed your position, as now she could continue on with her teasing unheeded.

"Fucking... Eivor!" You whined, tossing your head back. Her fingers paused only a moment before continuing the repetitive pattern. The pressure in your abdomen was building, and it was near embarrassing that it only took a few minutes of this to cum on her fingers. But gods above, it was so worth it.

"Are you going to cum on my fingers, lovely?" She breathed against your neck. "Oh, it's taken everything to not plunge deep into you... but you want to beg, don't you? I'll take you all nice and slow now, make you beg for something more, and then when I'm pounding into you, you'll beg for me to be gentle."

Another moan pushed past your lips, and she broke her rhythm, rough pad of her index finger swirling over your clit in quick sharp motions to push you over the edge. She seemed to feed off of the sweet gasps of her name spilling from your mouth, from the way your hands curled tight into her braids, the way your thighs squeezed around her waist. Your back arched as that knot in your stomach snapped, spilling over her fingers.

Eivor cooed to you, praising you for coming undone so quickly for her, finger still stroking you gently as you come down from the high you reached. She sat up, taking you with her, and sitting properly in the throne this time.

Your thighs ached just a bit as you adjusted, settling to straddle her thighs instead of her waist. Before you could get settled, Eivor was already stripping you of your clothes, groping at your skin the moment it was free of cloth. It was obvious now how wet you were, you could feel your heat soak into Eivor's pants, but her eyes were focused on your lips instead of any incidental messes.

"You are the sweetest thing I could ever hope to hold, my love." She admitted. "Look at you, shining in the firelight like Freyja herself. Like a treasure waiting to be found by my loving hands."

Eivor waxing poetry in the middle of sex was something that wasn't new to you, but each time, it brought a blush to your cheeks, painting them red. "Eivor..."

"(Y/N)," She said, tone low and serious, the gravel in her voice sending shivers down your spine. "I am going to make this throne an altar, and you my offering." Her hands pressed into your back and thigh, holding you possessively, like anyone would walk in and claim you as theirs if they were not there. "Did you know that Freyja accepts acts of love and sex as offerings, my dove? Each wave of undoing is another gold coin in her coffers." Her lips trailed over your jaw, and your chest swelled with anticipation. The hand on your back moved to your side, stroking your ribs. "And you are a golden statue. Let me sing her prayers into your warmth, let my tongue spell out her honorifics as I bring you to a peak. Let me prove to the Lady of Love that her power flows between us both."

As she finished up her request, one that made you weak in the legs and dizzy in the head, she turned you both, setting you down to sit on the seat of the throne, protected from the hard surface by warm furs. She knelt in front of you, hands spreading your legs to hook them over the arms of the chair. Her eyes never left yours, though she dipped closer to your exposed cunt, now basically weeping for her to touch it, to taste it, to offer up her services to the goddess of love.

"May I, my darling?" Her warm breath brushed over your inner thigh, making you moan wantonly.

"Please." You pleaded. "Gods above, Eivor, if this is heathenry, I never want to leave it."

She chuckled and dove down, tongue pressing against your opening, flat and confident in the long stroke, nose buried into your curls. "Oh Freyja, I am going to give you a show." She whispers, delighted, before sucking on your clit gently.

It wasn't the sudden action, or the words that surprised you and made you tug on her hair, no, it was the sudden focus on your cunt that startled you. Every time she ate you out she focused, of course, focused on making you cum, on making you feel good, but this was different. She was determined, fast, trying to pull you closer to an orgasm rather than drawing it out and teasing you. How many was she planning to steal from you? Until your legs gave out? Until you were limp in this throne? You couldn't wait to find out.

She buried her tongue into you quick, licking sharply in your velvet heat to make you gasp and twitch, thumb gently pressed against your clit to add pressure, the other arm wrapped around your thigh and pressing down on your abdomen. All you could do was cry out her name and pull on her hair, or pet her hair, or stroke her forehead, or nothing at all.

The first one she pulled out of you was fast and quick, and she barely slowed down as her mouth molded against your cunt, tongue lapping up your essence like it was water and she was dying of thirst. She shifted on her knees, and a small part in your mind that wasn't clouded by lust was aware that she was probably just as wet, begging to be touched, to cum herself, and the thought made you keen loudly, arching your back and bucking your hips.

She held you down, growling a bit as her pace faltered. Her thumb moved away from your clit, replaced by her mouth as she pushed a finger in, curling it slightly to hit the spongy spot deep in your cunt. Finally, finally, she entered you, and your hands scrambled to cup her cheeks and guide her face to look up at you.

Her eyes were a bit glossy, full of adoration and want as her eyes met yours. "Hm?" She hummed, pushing her finger in and out of your cunt at a steady pace.

"Mo-More-" You plead softly. "Another finger... two more, I want you to fill me-" You were cut off by her surging up to kiss your lips, swallowing your words and whines with a hungry mouth. Your hands stroked her cheeks, then her jaw, then her neck, tracing down the tattoos and scars to rest on her chest as her tongue invaded your mouth.

"Ask for it." She said, more like growled, as her middle finger teased at your entrance. "If I give you it now, then I get to pull more 'offerings' from your sweet little cunt." Her hips were now almost pressed to yours with her sudden change in position, hand still stroking you steadily. "How many can I get with my fingers before I take you with my cock?"

Your chest heaved with a heavy moan, trying to get her to kiss you again, pressing you lips to hers as she waited for an answer. "As many as you want, Eivor. As many as I can give. Please... please- oh fuck-" You hissed, arching your back as she hit a particularly sweet spot, "Please fill me... I want your fingers, please-" This seemed to appease her, as she grinned down at you and pressed another two fingers into your cunt.

"You're such a good girl." There was a mocking lilt to it, aware that fucking on a throne that wasn't hers and getting it absolutely soaked wasn't particularly 'good', but you were good for her. She could bend you over a table out of no where and fuck you silly and you would ask for more- though it wasn't like she would, but the thought fueled her to fuck her fingers into you faster, at a rougher pace, keeping you trapped against the throne with her body.

She was caging you in, pressing you deeper into the seat with her body, making you feel small, cramped. Your legs were spread open for her, her fingers coming in and out of you with the loudest noises you've ever heard yourself make, both with your mouth and your cunt. It didn't take long for another one to rip out of you, dripping onto the wolf pelt you were seated on, and then another, then another, on and on for what felt like hours being stuck on this throne, this makeshift altar, while she made a mess of you.

It was only after the fifth one in that position did she finally relent, pulling her digits out of you slowly with a squelch, whispered praises and comforts blown into your ear, though you barely heard them. The only thing you could focus on was Eivor, your beautiful vikingr, and her fingers, covered in you, and the fact that you wanted to clean them off so bad so she could do what she wanted with you next. Your jaw dropped open slightly, and you stuck your tongue just a bit, and she obliged, letting you suck her fingers into your mouth with a delighted hum.

You cleaned off her fingers eagerly, looking up at her for approval. She cupped your cheek, wiping her hand off on her pants, and kissed your head. "You're doing so good. You gave me... how many?"

"Seven." You answered, stroking her jaw. "What happened to... to making me beg for it?"

"I remembered how good your cunt felt on my fingers." Eivor winked, chuckling a bit. "Stay here, my love." She moved away, her absence making you whine absently. It was colder without her pressed up right against you, and in the small moment of clarity, you realized that you were sitting with your legs spread wide. You shifted, stretching out your legs as you waited for her to come back.

When she did, you almost snapped back into begging for her. She was nude, save for the wooden cock, carved with runes and expertly made, strapped to her hips. She didn't stand and bask in your attention, instead lovingly settling back between your legs, massaging the joint of your hip and thighs. "My sweet lady..." Your vikingr pressed a kiss to your cheek, wrapping your legs around her waist, cock prodding against your entrance in the most wonderful way. "Shall you cry out a praise for Freyja?"

"Mmm..." You whined, bucking your hips a bit to try and push onto her yourself. "Eivor, don't tease." You were basically bent over, hips on the edge of the seat while your shoulders were pressed against the back of the throne.

"Not until you thank Freyja for the sweetness that lay between your legs, for the fact that you will feel so much pleasure from my cock plunging into you, for the fact we have the longhouse to ourselves so I can pull cries of desire out from your lips." She said, trailing a finger over your cheek. "Go ahead."

"Thank you Frey- Ah!" Your miffed statement was cut off by her pushing into you, catching you off guard. She filled you, stretching you out just enough in the way that you felt familiar with, even though it burned slightly. She cooed to you, rubbing your side as you adjusted, and when your breathing slowed down a bit, Eivor looked at you with dark eyes.

"Continue."

"Thank yo-" A thrust, shallow but strong, cut you off again. You whined, digging your nails into her shoulders. "Eivor-"

"You stop talking, and I stop moving." She said. "A proper offering needs a proper prayer, my love."

You gulped. You knew how Eivor liked to do this, and there was a glint in her eye that let you know she was going to be downright devious.

"Thank you, Freyja, oh fuck- for this-" Clumsy words tripped out of your mouth, stumbling and stuttering as Eivor set a pace one could only describe as 'animalistic'. Halfway through your 'prayer', mostly words drawn out with moans and cries, she moved your legs to rest over her shoulders, leaning forward enough for your knees to be near your head, bending you properly in half. Her hips slapped against yours, echoing in the empty hall and in your head.

It was getting harder and harder to hold onto your words, to get them out in any kind of manner that made sense. You squeezed around the wooden shaft, so hard that you were sure you were going to feel it for the days to come. Your juices dripped down from your hole, weeping and and filled, and Eivor was snarling with the effort. "An-And may... you may... us.. bless-" You gasp. "Eivor, I-"

"Are you gonna cum?" She asked, breathless. At your nod, she snuck a hand down between you, brushing against your clit. It was like you had been hit with lightning, the sensation sending thrills up your spine as you keened, coming undone once more at her doing.

The next few minutes were a blur, her slowing the pace and eventually pulling out of you, kissing your forehead, and carrying you to your rooms. She laid you down gently, but before she could pull away, your hands grabbed her by the back of her neck.

"Who said I was done with you? I haven't gotten the chance to taste you yet." You asked, and she grinned, all but leaping onto the bed to join you.

#eivor x reader #eivor varinsdóttir #eivor wolfkissed #x reader #My Writing #if anyone tries to talk about the religious aspect of this im going to hit them #i am Vanatru (traditional norse pagan worshipping the Vanir) yes we pray and kneel #yes doing the deed is a form of offering #not minor safe

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princehrry-writings · 4 years ago

Text

Daddy?

happy Easter if you celebrate it!! I've been working on this for a couple weeks!! It's the longest one-shot I think I've ever written.

word count: 5180

please please please flood my inbox with your thoughts and comments!! i want to know what you think!!!

warnings: some swearing (i think), absent birth father, single mom, nothing too serious.

“And who might this be?” He said softly, hoping that he wouldn’t frighten her.

“Tell Harry your name baby,” Y/n brushed a stray piece of hair away from her daughter's face who shied away behind her mom’s leg.

“Stella,” the little girl mumbled, fidgeting with the jeans she hid behind. He felt his heart flutter. She was just so freakin cute.

“It’s lovely to meet you Stella, m’Harry!”

“You talk funny.” The child said, making Harry laugh and Y/n gasp, scolding her daughter for being rude while trying not to laugh at her blunt comment.

“Stella Rose, that was not a very nice thing to say!” Y/n softly reprimanded.

“Sowwy Hawwy,” He chuckled, letting her know he forgave her.

Y/n is a single mom and Harry wants to be a part of the family.

Getting pregnant was definitely not something Y/n wanted to be doing at 20 years old. She had a boyfriend and the career of her dreams but as soon as the news broke, one of those things was no longer true. Her ex skipped town faster than she could even finish telling him she was pregnant, so Y/n was left to her own devices since her family was so far away.

She was a songwriter. She had worked with all the big names in the industry from Taylor Swift to All Time Low. She was known for being able to write in any genre, that’s what set her apart and why people were clawing at the chance to work with her.

And then she got pregnant. She kept writing songs until she was eight and a half months along but due to minor complications, her doctor had ordered her to stay home. So she did. She stayed home, had the baby, and raised her all by herself. Now that baby, whose name is Stella, is four years old and is traveling the world with her mom. Y/n had gone back to work when Stella was a year old. At first, she would leave her baby with a sitter, but eventually, she got to a point where Stella was old enough to come along to writing sessions and quietly color or play with toys in a corner. She really liked going to work with her mom. She got to see a bunch of cool places and meet a lot of nice people.

And one of those people was Harry Styles. Y/n had met him a few times back when he was with One Direction, had even tried to work with the band a few times but things never lined up right. But now he was making his second studio album and only wanted the best of the best to write with him so naturally, he called Y/n. Harry knew she had a kid but he didn’t expect her to bring said kid to a writing session. Harry didn’t really mind- he loves kids, but his friends had been known to curse a lot and he didn’t want to cause any harm to the child.

He made sure to give everyone a stern talking to, even though Kid already knew to hold his tongue (his little ones had repeated some colorful words a few times). He wanted everything to go right, needed it to. Y/n was more than just another songwriter.

“Y/n! I’m so glad you could make it!” Harry smiled as she walked into the studio. She smiled back, walking into his open arms for a hug.

“Thank you so much for having me, I’m super stoked to be working with you!” She said, slightly muffled by his neck. Harry looked down behind Y/n and saw a little girl that looked exactly like the woman currently in his arms looking right back up at him. When the two pulled away Harry was quick to kneel down to her height.

“And who might this be?” He said softly, hoping that he wouldn’t frighten her.

“Tell Harry your name baby,” Y/n brushed a stray piece of hair away from her daughter's face who shied away behind her mom’s leg.

“Stella,” the little girl mumbled, fidgeting with the jeans she hid behind. He felt his heart flutter. She was just so freakin cute.

“It’s lovely to meet you Stella, m’Harry!”

“You talk funny.” The child said, making Harry laugh and Y/n gasp, scolding her daughter for being rude while trying not to laugh at her blunt comment.

“Stella Rose, that was not a very nice thing to say!” Y/n softly reprimanded.

“Sowwy Hawwy,” He chuckled, letting her know he forgave her. Although he wasn’t mad, he understood Y/n had to teach her not to say things like that even if they were funny.

When Stella had settled at a table out of the way of the adults in the room with her coloring book and a juice box, the work began. Y/n and Harry sat at a piano bench ( he hoped she couldn’t hear his pounding heart) while Kid and Mitch, along with Jeff, sat scattered around the other furniture in the studio.

“So, I have a couple of ideas that I’ve been sitting on that I think you might like. You can look through this and see if there's something that catches your eye.” Y/n said, handing Harry a notebook. She tried to ignore the tingle she felt run up her arm when their fingers brushed. He flipped around the pages, noticing random little doodles in the corners and in between lines, and the somewhat messy but readable handwriting. He thought it was cute how she connected her s’s to her t’s and k’s when she wrote.

One page, in particular, caught his attention.

Golden, Golden, Golden

As I open my eyes

Hold it, focus

So you take me back to the light

I know you were way too bright for me

I’m hopeless, broken

So you wait for me in the sky

Brown my skin just right

“Is this a verse or a chorus?” He asked, pointing it out to her. She shrugged saying she didn’t really know yet but it would probably be a verse.

“I like it a lot,” He said and she smiled, picking up her guitar and strumming it to the tune she had thought of for the words. He listened and nodded along, already getting ideas for where to go next.

“I like the golden thing. I think that could be a good hook, something like we’re so golden,” Kid spoke up, tapping his fingers along to what she was playing.

“Or you’re so golden,” Mitch suggested. Harry and Y/n’s eyes widened at the same time, both looking up at each other when they heard the line.

“You’re so golden, you’re so golden…” Y/n hummed.

“I’m out of my head, and I know what you said about hearts get broken,”

“How about I’m out of my head and I know that you’re scared because hearts get broken,”

“I like that better, yeah!” Harry smiled, nodding along to the beat.

Y/n looked over 30 minutes later to see Stella had sprawled out on the floor with her arms folded beneath her head, first finger stuck into her mouth, and she smiled, breathing out a laugh.

“She’s so precious,” Harry murmured from beside you. Your gaze found his and the smile on your face widened a little bit.

“She is, isn’t she.” She said, pride present in her eyes.

“Looks just like you as well,”

“Yeah thank god, I don’t know what I would have done if she had ended up looking like her sperm donor,” Malice dripped from the end of her phrase. Y/n couldn’t even entertain the idea of her looking like the man who helped create her. That nerve was still a little raw, not because she had any remaining feelings, but because he had abandoned not only her but the beautiful baby girl who was napping not 15 feet away from her. She figured they were better off without him, yet her heart always shattered a little when Stella asked if she had a daddy like the people she sees on tv.

“I couldn’t imagine finding out the woman I loved was pregnant and then leaving her, any real man would have stayed.” His eyes were genuine, which she appreciated. Most people would say they felt sorry for her, pity dripping from their gaze, but she didn’t need pity, didn’t need people to feel sorry for her. But what Harry said was out of pity, he just honestly couldn’t understand how anyone would abandon a child.

“Yeah well, I guess I just wasn’t the woman he loved.” She said, looking back at her baby. Stella made all of that pain from when he disappeared worth it.

Harry wanted to be able to take that pain away.

---

“Hey I know it’s late, but I have this idea and I want you to hear it,” Harry’s raspy voice chimed through the speaker of Y/n’s phone. She glanced at the time, reading 1:30 AM, and sighed.

“Ok,”

“Come open the door,” He said.

“Wait what? You’re here?”

“Yeah, come on. It’s cold out here.”

“Ugh, hold on,” The woman sighed, hanging up and tip-toeing out of her room so her footsteps wouldn’t wake the sleeping four-year-old in the next room over. Her door was open and she was a light sleeper.

The door swung open and Harry stood there with a small smile on his face, burrowing as deep into his coat as he could to shield himself from the cold air outside.

“Hi!” His cheeky smile made Y/n’s heart flutter.

This was the first of many times he would show up at her place in the middle of the night.

---

Another night of Harry coming over late with a song idea he couldn’t wait to show Y/n, although now it was more he would come over after Stella fell asleep and the two would watch movies and talk, and sometimes write songs (even though the album was done).

The pair were perched on the couch in a heated conversation about whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza (it does and that is a fact not an opinion) when the sound of little footsteps caught their attention. They both looked up from where they sat at the sound of loud crying coming down the stairs, seeing a small child with tears barreling down her face, cheeks flush an angry red, first finger stuck in her mouth, teddy bear clutched tightly to her chest.

“Baby what’s wrong?” Y/n cooed, getting up and sweeping her into her arms. She went and sat back down on the couch, cradling the baby to her chest, brushing her hair out of her face, and rocking her back and forth.

“Scawwy dweam mommy,” She hiccuped into her mom’s neck, where she hid her face. Her tiny hands clutched onto her shirt, finger stick tucked between her lips.

Harry held back a coo at the little girl, feeling himself fall further and further for the little family of two sitting before him. He hadn’t been able to take his mind off of them since that first day he met Stella. He’d always had a schoolboy crush on Y/n since they first met all those years ago but knew it was one-sided when she introduced her boyfriend one of the last times they had seen each other. As fate would have it though, they found their way back to each other. Neither of them could deny the feelings they held, but Y/n was scared to bring someone into the picture because she didn’t want Stella to get attached to someone who wouldn’t be permanent. She was lucky her ex left before he ever got the chance to meet Stella, the kid had no clue what she was missing, therefore didn’t have any pain due to her absent father.

She would be lying if she said she didn’t imagine Harry stepping into that role. But she couldn’t ask that of him. He was at a time in his career where he didn’t have time to be the father of a four year old.

But life is full of surprises.

“Hawwy.” The baby whimpered and crawled off of Y/n’s chest, into his lap and snuggled her head right into him like it was where she was meant to be all along. His heart just about burst when the little girl fisted his shirt, tucking herself into him. His arms instinctively wrapped around her, cradling her into him and rocking her back and forth like her mother had been only moments ago.

Stella calms down almost immediately, to Y/n’s surprise. It usually takes her a while to console her baby from bad dreams, but all Harry had to do was hold her, and boom, no more tears.

“You alright petal?” He cooed into her hair, soothing his hand up and down her back to keep her calm. She nodded, letting out a huge yawn and closing her eyes, falling back asleep in his arms.

Y/n was astonished. Stella had never fallen asleep on anyone but her mom or her grandmother. She’s known Harry for a few months and was acting like he’d been there her whole life.

“Wow… she loves you.” Y/n whispered, not really meaning for him to hear but he did and his smile gave her the impression that he loved her too. But Stella wasn’t the only one he felt such affections for.

“Y/n....” He starts after a moment of silence, “I know this sounds crazy because we’ve only truly known each other for a few months… but I’ve had feelings for you for years. I missed my opportunity when you got with your ex but I’m here now, and I love you, and I love Stella, and I would do anything to stay in both of your lives if you’d have me. I want to be here for you, and I want to be here for her as well.” His confession shocked the woman sitting across from him.

Y/n was quiet, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought while she took in what he was saying. Trying her best to keep her fantasies of playing house with him at bay, she spoke.

“Harry, as much as all of that sounds lovely, you’re about to start press for the album and then go on tour. You’re not gonna have time to be in a relationship, and as much as I wish I could just jump into something like that, I can’t. I have her to think about…” She gestured to the toddler sleeping on him.

“She needs consistency, her life is already hectic enough.”

“So come with me!” He spouted, and then retracted a bit realizing he could wake Stella up.

“What?”

“Come with me! You two travel around already, so come on the press tour with me and then come on the big tour with me! I know this sounds impulsive and it’s probably the craziest thing I’ve ever said in my life ever, but I’ve never been more sure of anything. I know what I want Y/n, and that’s to be a part of this family. I want to be a part of your lives!”

“Harry, I-”

“Please Y/n. Give me a chance! I won’t let you down!” The gleam in his eyes shows her that he’s serious. He really does want this. Harry just hopes that Y/n can see just how willing he is, how much it would mean to him to have (what he already affectionately considers to be) his girls with him on tour.

It’s quiet, only sounds of Stella’s even breaths and the light noise of her sucking on her finger fill the room. Eventually, Y/n gathers her thoughts, mind made up.

“We’ll try it out… see how it goes….” She said, releasing a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding on to. Harry’s smile grew tenfold at her confession, reaching over and bringing her face closer to his to kiss her lips, careful not to wake the baby in his arms.

He had never been happier, Harry decides, than he is right now.

---

“Hawwy?” Stella’s voice catches Y/n’s attention from where she sits on the plane, in between her and Harry. She turns her little head to the man sitting in the aisle seat, big round eyes staring right into his.

“What is it, lovebug?” He asks, pushing her wild baby hairs away from her eyes. Y/n did her very best not to coo at the two of them. Harry had fallen perfectly into step with the mother and daughter, like this duo had been a trio all along. She was still hesitant to think of him as a father figure for Stella though, just because if things went south somehow, she didn’t want her baby suffering a loss like that (a second time).

Stella’s little fists rubbed at her tired eyes. She let out a small ‘hmph’ and laid her head on Harry’s arm, wrapping her own little arms around his.

“Awe you my daddy?” She asked and Y/n choked on her spit, looking back over at the toddler.

“Stella, baby-”

“I would love to be your daddy lovebug, but that’s not really up to me…” He spoke and glanced up at Y/n quickly, trepidation clear in his eyes. Harry was afraid he might overstep. Sure he knew that things were still new between him and Y/n but he wanted nothing more than for Stella to think of him as her dad.

“Who’s it up to?” Y/n could tell she was about to fall asleep but was fighting it in order to get her answers. She had adjusted to a more fast pace schedule quite nicely. She slept through most plane and car rides and absolutely loved being backstage at concerts. Harry thought she looked so adorable with her big noise-canceling headphones on. They had been on the road for a few months now, and it had been 8 months since Y/n decided to give him a chance.

“It’s up to mummy, baby.” He answered, his fingers tangling into his chestnut curls in a futile attempt to keep them out of his face.

Stella’s head immediately whipped to look at her mom, who sat frozen in her seat, not knowing what to do.

“Mommy, is Hawwy my daddy?” She repeated her question. Y/n had a feeling that Stella thought Harry was her real dad, the one that her mom didn’t like to talk about. She had to make sure there was no confusion.

“Not like you're thinking he is, baby. He’s not your birth dad, he didn’t help mommy make you, but if you want him to be your daddy, then that’s ok with me.” Y/n locked eyes with the man sitting across from her with a smile on his face. She was glad that they were flying private because she really didn’t need anyone ruining this moment for them. All her fears of this not working out felt stupid now.

How could she ever think that things with Harry wouldn’t work out? He was right where he belonged.

---

“Daddy!”

“Baby!” Harry knelt down to catch the running (almost) 5 year old, picking her up and spinning her around in his arms. They were in England for two weeks on tour. One for shows, and one so that Y/n and Stella could meet Harry’s mom and sister for the first time as a part of the family. Y/n had met them before as “a friend of Harry’s” many years ago, but they had never met her as Harry’s girlfriend, and they hadn’t met Stella.

Currently, Harry was in the middle of a show and Stella had just escaped her mothers arms side stage in favor of running to her dad. Y/n still couldn’t get over saying that. Harry is Stella’s dad. She doesn’t think that will ever get old.

No one knew how serious the relationship between Y/n and Harry was. The public knew they were together (after a very vague post on instagram of the mother/daughter duo napping with the caption “my girls”). Many people thought this was a PR stunt, just because it was so unlike Harry to post something like that. But he had actually confirmed in an interview that, yes, he was in a relationship with the songwriter and it was pretty serious. That was all he chose to say, in favor of keeping his secrecy, as he so famously loves to do.

What came as a shock to the audience was what the child had called Harry. They all knew about Stella, obviously, but no one would have thought that this child would think of him as her father. A lot of people didn’t like thinking about Harry being a father.

“What are you doing out here baby?” He said into her ear, making sure he could hear her over the loud noise of the audience. Most of them loved getting glimpses into his life, so the crowd was excited to see Stella out on stage and many thought it was adorable that she already thought of him as her dad.

“Missed you.” She said into his neck. The microphone had somehow picked up their little exchange and the whole crowd sighed a collective “awe” when she said that. She was perched on his hip with her little arms wrapped around his neck, her favorite place if she had to choose one. She was pretty small for a 4-year-old, most people usually thought she was younger.

Harry chuckled and saw Y/n standing there with a smile on her face. Mitch was giggling at the exchange and kept glancing back at Sarah with a knowing look of “That’s going to be us soon,” written on his face.

“I missed you too lovebug, but I’m in the middle of a show! I gotta send you back to mumma.” He said. Stella didn’t like that though, because as soon as the words left his lips she was clinging to him like he was her life force and the tears began streaming down her face. She didn’t like having to share her daddy. She just wanted to be held by him right now, and she’d be damned if she got anything but her way.

This amused everyone, the child's insistence to be in her father's arms, so he sighed and bent to her will because how could he say no to his baby girl?

So he walked over to her mom and got her headphones, slipping them on her, and walked back to his microphone with her on his hip, ready to start the next song.

“Harry and Stella” was trending on twitter the very next morning. No one could get enough of the father-daughter duo.

---

Y/n hadn’t been this nervous since she was about to give birth to Stella. She stood with her baby in her arms as Harry opened the door to his childhood home, announcing to his mom and sister that they were there. She had to wipe her sweaty palms on her jeans more than once.

Anne rushed out from wherever she had been, greeting the three of them. Stella had met Anne via FaceTime many times so it was not news to her (or Gemma) that Harry had stepped into the role of Stella’s father. She will admit she was surprised at first but then she was reminded that Harry had been in their lives for almost a year before Stella had asked the question. It wasn’t something that was rushed into.

Anne was very excited to be meeting her grandbaby and was very excited to meet the girl that had made her a grandmother.

Stella got shy, not being used to seeing “Nana” in person. Gemma had emerged from her spot in the kitchen as well, greeting everyone.

“Hello, my loves! How was the trip?” Anne said, kissing both of them on the cheek, her hand gently caressing the child's cheek in an attempt to get her out of her shell. Once she realized that this was her Nana that was standing before her, Stella reached out for Anne, silently asking to be held by her. Anne jumped at the chance, sweeping the baby into her arms and giving her a big hug, kissing her on the forehead multiple times, not being able to quell her affection for her first grandchild.

“It was good mum, Stell slept the whole way and traffic was pretty light,” Harry said, slipping his hand into his girlfriend’s, brushing his thumb back and forth trying to help calm her anxieties. For whatever reason, Y/n was worried that Gemma and Anne wouldn’t like her because she had come into their son/brother's life with a child, but it was clear that the two ladies loved the idea of Harry being Stella’s father.

“Oh, that's lovely!” She smiled, cuddling Stella impossibly closer to her. Y/n felt most of her worries melt away seeing the woman with her baby.

She felt silly for thinking Anne would be anything but happy.

---

Anne would not put Stella down for anything. The two were attached at the hip every waking second. Y/n was actually starting to miss her baby, but she appreciated getting to spend time with Harry without having to keep an eye on their little one. Gemma was absolutely smitten with Stella as well. She was very excited to be “Auntie Gem” as Stella had quickly adapted to calling her. Stella was very happy as well. She had never been around so much family in her whole life. She’d been so used to just her and her mom, and then just them and Harry, but now she had two whole grandma’s all to herself and an auntie she gets to call her own, something she never knew she was missing, that Y/n never thought her baby would get to have.

Harry was so happy to see his baby with Anne and Gemma. They had been bumped to spot number 3 and 4 on his favorite girl list, with Stella and Y/n taking spots 1 and 2. They didn’t mind one bit.

“Daddy, can we watch a movie?” Stella jumped up onto his lap as he and Y/n sat on the couch, just talking and enjoying each other's company. Y/n smiled at the girl, tightening her grip around Harry’s shoulders, resting her head in the crook of his neck.

“Of course we can lovebug! Go get Nana and auntie Gem and we’ll all pick one out together!” He replied, petting her wild baby hairs out of her eyes just like he always did.

“Auntie Gemma said to ask you if we could watch…” She paused for a second, her little finger tapping on her chin like she couldn’t remember what she was gonna say. Suddenly, she was up and running back to the hallway she had just come from. Y/n and Harry heard little whispers before she came running back out and plopped back onto Harry’s lap, on ‘oof’ erupting from him.

“This Is Us!” She finally said. Harry’s face dropped as he looked behind them to see Gemma standing there, trying to hold back her laughter. Y/n just started cackling and Stella was giggling even though she had no idea what was going on.

“Daddy’s in that movie baby,” Y/n finally calmed down enough to say to her daughter. The little one’s eyes lit up, her hands clasped underneath her chin. This was what she did when she wanted her daddy to say yes to her because she knew he couldn’t resist how adorable she was.

“Please please please!!!!!!” She whined, leaning in to place her forehead against Harry’s. She knew exactly how to get him. He caved every single time.

“Yeah, fine. We can watch it!” He finally said and all three girls cheered. Anne came in at the noise wondering what was going on.

“What’s all this?” She asked and Stella ran up to her, pulling on her

“We watching Daddy’s movie Nana!” She said, jumping up and down with a glowing beam on her face.

“Oh, are we now? Which one?” Anne asked and Stella paused.

“Daddy, how many movies awe you in?” She came back and crawled into his lap. She still had trouble saying her r’s. Her and Harry were working on it.

“Two, lovebug. But one of them you can’t watch until you’re older. It’s too scary f’you.” He said, cuddling his baby into his chest. She put on a little pout hearing that. She didn’t like when her daddy told her no, but this was something he wasn’t gonna budge on.

“Ok,” She sighed. All the adults thought this was adorable.

So they all settled in and watched the movie. Harry had a permanent blush on his face and Stella would jump up and down every time he was on the screen.

“Nana look!! That’s you!!” Anne laughed and nodded to her granddaughter.

“Yes, it is baby!”

“Mommy, why aren’t you in this movie?” She asked and everyone giggled.

“Me and Daddy didn’t know each other very well back then, baby.” Y/n laughed. Stella didn’t really understand but she didn’t say anything else.

The last few days had worn her out and that became very obvious when Harry looked down and saw his baby asleep on his chest, her first finger stuck in her mouth just like it always was when she fell asleep.

“Love, I’m gonna go lay her down, and then I’ll be right back,” Harry whispered, cradling the sleeping girl in his arms and slowly standing up. Y/n nodded, kissing his cheek before he left.

“He’s so good with her!” Gemma cooed, her face lighting up seeing her brother with his kid. A sight she was still kind of getting used to seeing.

“He really is…” Y/n smiled, “It was pretty instant too. Anytime he’d come over and she was still awake, he’d insist on putting her to bed, reading to her, singing to her, he’d bring her toys. She’s had him wrapped around her little finger since he first laid eyes on her.”

“That’s so precious,” Anne spoke up, coming to sit next to her, wrapping Y/n in her warm embrace.

“I can’t wait until you two get married!” Y/n laughed at Gemma’s confession, snuggling into Anne.

“All he has to do is ask, I’m ready to say yes!” What none of the girls knew was that Harry was standing right outside the living room, hearing everything that was being said. His mind raced back to his suitcase where a velvet box sat tucked away between all of his clothes.

He was hesitant to bring the idea up because it had only been a year, but the saying when you know, you know he thought.

He came back into the living room, acting none the wiser, sitting on the other side of the girl he was going to marry (she just didn’t know it yet), and cuddled into her just as she had cuddled into his mom.

“Daddy,” A small voice broke through the now quiet hum of the tv.

“Lovebug, what are you doing back up?” He asked, lifting the sleepy little thing into his lap.

“Scawwy dweam, daddy.” She said and he pouted, pulling her closer into his chest and snuggling her back to sleep.

Harry was exactly where he belonged in life. With his baby girl in his arms, and his Love by his side.

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ticketstomydaydreams · 4 years ago

Text

5:3666

(All We Have: Part Two)

Part One

Colson x Female Reader

Summary: You and Colson fall into a night time studio routine when he starts keeping you company through your insomnia and you decide to work though some past demons

Word count: 3,200 (ish, I lost count editing)

Feels: Fluff with a dash of past trauma

Warnings: Drug & alcohol consumption, domestic violence, cursing, Colson being so sweet it almost makes your teeth hurt

Companion playlist:

Machine Gun Kelly - 5:3666

Warren Zevon - I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

The Vamps - All Night

Halsey - You Should Be Sad

A/N: If you've been affected by anything in this story, please know you're not alone. My inbox is always open and I'm all ears 🖤

______

During the first couple of weeks of moving in, you’d been partying A LOT. The guys wanted to show you just how mad it got, breaking you into their chaotic household, blending the days together. Everyone was hyper and the house was buzzing with energy. You'd been so exhausted from all of it that you'd been all but passing out each night, but you couldn’t lie, it was great fun.

You’d tried to pass on a few nights but Colson would never hear of it, often forcing you out of your room to get involved as the house was filled with people, jam sessions taking place in between drinking games. It was a far cry from your usual homelife, your last housemate mainly kept to themselves so your place was normally pretty chilled. Colson had used your place as a quiet escape over the years, but it seemed you wouldn’t have the same set up extended to you here with this lot.

With the pandemic unfolding, the house had started getting quieter, less people in and out every night and everyone was settling into a lazier way of life. The gang were mooching around the house throughout the day and while the house was still lively at night, it wasn’t quite the party central you’d almost started getting used to. Your normal working routine went out the window as everyone had started working from home mainly and without your daily routine, followed by nights out partying, your insomnia was back with full force.

______

You were lying in your bed, trying to force sleep on yourself but after trying to nod off for a couple of hours, you accepted defeat and got back up. Throwing some sweats on and one of Colson’s huge hoodies (you’d been slowly sneaking them out of his closet, finding that the masses of material drowning your small frame were super comforting), you headed down to the kitchen, turned the stove on and filled the kettle up. You were scrolling through your phone when you heard footsteps on the tiled floor. Colson strolled into the kitchen looking disheveled in a white tank top and boxer shorts, hair ruffled and looking sleepy

“Dude, it’s 3am how come you’re up?”

“Couldn’t sleep, living that oh so fun insomnia life again” you sighed “Did I wake you?”

“Nah, I was already awake. Couldn’t sleep either and heard someone moving about so thought I’d come down” He replied, climbing onto one of the breakfast stools

“Yeah, I think it’s not having much of a routine. Hate lying in bed staring at the ceiling so just got up. You want a cup?” you offered, pointing to the chamomile tea you were brewing

“Sure, thanks” he says, taking the steaming mug from you

You sit down at the breakfast bar with him and start chatting, scrolling through instagram as you do. After about an hour, as you’re talking about an article you’re reading, you notice Colson doesn’t respond and you look to your right and see he’s fallen asleep, leaning on his hand, his mouth slightly ajar.

“Hey, sleeping beauty” you whisper, rubbing his back with your hand “Go to bed”

He slightly jolts at your touch, opening his eyes “Nah man, I’m keeping you company”

“Some company” you laugh softly “pretty sure you just slept through all my rambling there”

He leans against your shoulder, closing his eyes again “Hey, at least you’re not sitting here alone. That’s something right?”

“That’s true” you smile, leaning your head against his “You’re very appreciated, do you know that”

You gently push him upright and stand up “Come on, let’s go to bed. I’m pretty tired myself, so you’ve definitely helped”

He’s laid his head down on his arm on the counter, his breathing getting heavy immediately so you pull his other hand making him stand up. He stands up and puts his arm around your shoulder as you walk towards the stairs, your legs feeling heavy as you climb each step, carrying some of Colson’s weight as he sleepily walks with you

Once you’re standing outside your bedroom doors, he pulls you in for a hug

“Night kid, don’t be wandering around bored if you can’t sleep yeah? Just come get me. Nothing worse than sitting up alone at night…”

“Will do. Thanks Col” You squeeze him a bit tighter as he kisses the top of your head

“Night” you smile, as he let’s you go and turns and heads into his room, waving his hand up behind him

Undressing and crawling into bed, your eyes feel heavy as your head hits the pillow. Colson was right, insomnia was a much less lonely experience with a friend.

______

Of course, as is always the way after your sleepless nights, you sleep in super late the following day meaning the cycle continues and you find yourself wide awake as the witching hour approaches. Feeling restless in your bedroom, you get up, and decide to head downstairs and out into the studio because you figure you might as well put this time to good use. You settle into a chair with your acoustic guitar and started playing, stopping and starting as you figure out a melody, working your latest lyrics in with it

“I wanna start this out and say, I gotta get it off my chest. Got no anger, got no malice…”

“I thought I told you to come get me if you couldn’t sleep”

You almost drop your guitar as you hear Colson’s voice behind you, “Jesus, how are you such an enormous human but you still manage to creep up on me all the time?”

“Just a stealthy motherfucker I guess” He laughs, flopping into the chair next to you

“Whatcha working on? That sounded sweet, keep playing…”

Colson knows you sometimes get a bit self-conscious with people watching you sing, so he lights his joint, rests his head on his hand and closes his eyes. You smile as you see what he's doing, thankful he always understands what you're like.

You turn back to your notepad, reading over your lyric outline quickly before repositioning the guitar in your lap and resetting the metronome

___

‘I wanna start this out and say, I gotta get it off my chest

Got no anger, got no malice, Just a little bit of regret

No, nobody else will tell you, so there's some things I gotta say

Gonna jot it down and then get it out and then I'll be on my way

No, you're not half the man you think that you are

And you can't fill the hole inside of you with money, drugs, and cars

I'm so glad I never ever had a baby with you

'Cause you can't love nothing unless there's something in it for you

Oh, I feel so sorry, I feel so sad

I tried to help you, it just made you mad

And I had no warning about who you are

I'm just glad I made it out without breaking down

And then ran so fuckin' far, that you would never ever touch me again

Won't see your alligator tears

'Cause, no, I've had enough of them’

___

“Man, that was beautiful Y/N. I got some chills right there…You just wrote that?”

“Nah, it’s something I dug up from ‘back then’. Been going through some old lyrics and samples while we’ve got all this time on our hands. It’s kinda cathartic to go over some of that stuff now there’s a bit more distance you know”

______

A couple of years ago, you’d been stuck in a really toxic relationship with your ex, Stevie. Your time with him had been a tornado of arguments, drugs and the constant heartache of him cheating on you. Every time you’d get close to having the strength to leave, you’d always cave in and the mess would continue with you losing a bit of yourself each time you stayed. You’d become pretty used to his violent outbursts, he had always been controlling and short tempered, often pushing you and throwing stuff around your apartment. Despite his own frequent infidelity, he flew into a jealous rage with you constantly.

He’d always hated Colson, despite him being one of your best friends, and while he’d play nice to his face you’d always get it in the neck once you were alone about how you and Colson were ‘too close’ and he ‘didn’t trust him’. Before that final night you’d spent with him, things had been pretty good with the two of you for a few weeks, there hadn’t been much drama and so you hadn’t thought too much of inviting him out with you and the gang for a night out clubbing. Your good run had clearly come to an end, when you felt his hand grab your arm tightly and drag you off the dancefloor where you’d been dancing with Colson. You’d been bundled into an uber so quickly, you hadn’t even managed to get your handbag from inside. You saw Colson running out of the club, followed by Rook and Slim who was holding your bag, as the cab pulled away.

Once you were back at the apartment, he flew into a rage. You’d never seen him this bad before, his eyes were dark and when you tried to argue back, calling his jealousy ‘pathetic’ he snapped. He’d grabbed you by the throat and slammed you against the wall, “Don’t you ever disrespect me like that again” he’d spat in your face, before striking you so hard with his fist that the skin across your cheek split open. It was as if his actions had knocked him back to reality, he’d let go of you and you ran to your bedroom, locked the door behind you and started packing a bag. He hammered on the door, begging you to open it and you could hear that he was crying. You looked around for your phone before you remembered you’d left it at the club. Desperate to get away, you opened your laptop and brought up instagram, managing to send Colson a message asking him to send you an uber to his house straight away. You’d thrown your laptop and a few more bits in your bag, the battery dying before you had a chance to wait for a reply, before pulling the bedroom door open and barging past Stevie. He’d tried to grab you, but you’d finally had enough “Never fucking touch me again” you spat, pushing him off you. The hatred in your voice rooted him to the spot and he said nothing as you walked out, the door slamming behind you.

Once you were outside the apartment building, the reality of what had just happened and the situation you were in started to wash over you. You had no phone, no wallet, your laptop was dead. Just as you were starting to seriously panic, an uber pulled up and Colson had leapt out of the backseat. You’d been in total shock and had just let Colson guide you into the cab and then out into his house, up to his room. He didn’t say anything as he led you to his bathroom and lifted you up onto the counter. He grabbed a flannel and soaked it with warm water, rinsing it out before pressing it softly against the cut on your cheek, gently wiping away the blood that had mixed with your mascara laced tears. The tenderness of his actions was almost too much and you started to sob again.

“Hey, hey. Y/N, look at me” he said softly, lifting your chin so you looked at him, his blue eyes misty themselves “It’s okay, you’re safe here. Don’t move, I’ll be back in a sec”

He left the bathroom and returned with a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Putting them on the counter next to you, he crouched down and undid the straps on your heels, slipping them off your feet and then helping you down from the counter. “I’ll leave you to change”

When you came out of the bathroom, Colson was lying in his bed “Come here” he said, holding his arm and beckoning into his side. You crawled under the covers next to him and snuggled into him, his long arms wrapping around you.

“Col…” you said quietly

“Yeah?” he whispered back, stroking your hair off your forehead

“Thank you…”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve always got you Y/N”

______

“I hated that fucking guy. That night...I wanted to kill him after what he’d done to you”

You see him tense up at the memory and you lean over and squeeze his knee “You’re such an amazing friend, do you know that. I don’t know what I would’ve done that night without you”

"You're a fucking warrior Y/N, you'd have handled your shit. I was just happy you trusted me enough to let me be there for you. You deserve so much better than that" he says, covering the hand you'd placed on his knee with his, staring you in the eyes and returning the smile that's crept across your face

"You know there's been a few punches I've wanted to dole out on behalf of you over the years, but you've never let me" you tell him

"Too right I'd never let you. I never want you in the drama, you're too good for getting caught up in that shit" he replies, pointing at you with mock sternness

"Hey" he says, seeing your expression wash over with a tint of sadness "At least the sleepless nights aren't what they were then…

… If we're gonna work through some old demons this lockdown, I'm sure I've got some songs and lyrics that have never seen the light of day" He reaches over the desk and pulls his laptop towards him "You've inspired me… "

"Oh no, are we gonna fuck our heads up with this?" you joke nervously, worrying that Colson's going to delve into something that's going to upset him

"Nah, I got you covered and you got me, right?"

"True dat" you say, as he holds his fist out so you can fistbump, his eyes now focused on his laptop screen

______

You felt kinda bad, having kept Colson up all night with you the last two nights, especially as you'd got him reminiscing about some tough memories, so tonight you tried to sneak past his room when your restlessness got the better of you.

"Nice try kid!" Colson says as he throws his bedroom door open, causing you to yelp in fright. standing there topless with his sweatpants hung low in his hips, he lights the joint hanging from his mouth "I told you we were in this together now"

"I felt bad, making you stay up with me"

"You didn't make me do shit…Wait a sec, let me find a hoodie. If I have any left in here…" he says, giving a pointed look towards the huge blue hoodie you were wrapped in before walking back into his room and rummaging through his drawers

"Oh shush, you have like a hundred…"

"Right come on" he says, pulling a pink hoodie over his head and flipping the hood up over his messy hair "Let's see what we get into tonight…"

______

And so the nights went on like this, the two of you falling into an easygoing studio routine. If there wasn't anything else going on in the house, you'd eat dinner together then head to the studio and work through the night into the small hours, skipping out the pretense of trying to sleep. You were both pretty productive at this time it seemed, both being proclaimed night owls, and keeping busy during these uncertain times was keeping your minds off the unfolding pandemic.

Considering he’d referred to his home studio in the past as the ‘rage cage’ (and it certainly could still be party central when the entire crew got involved), it was actually a place you drifted towards to relax these days. You’d always worked well together in a studio, but over the weeks spending so much time just the two of you, you became more in tune with each other, noticing when one of you had hit a wall and it was time for bed. Sometimes you'd work in comfortable silence, side by side, engrossed in your own seperate tasks. Sometimes barely any work would get done as you put the world to rights talking about anything and everything in a late night impromptu therapy session.

This evening, you'd been sitting cross legged in your chair for hours now, focusing so hard on editing a song which was driving you mad, you hadn't realised your feet had gone numb. As you try to move, your knees crack and pins and needles shoot through your legs. Colson looks up from the screen he'd been engrossed in after hearing you groan and sees you rubbing your feet trying to bring back the feeling to them

‘C’mere’ he said, before turning his chair towards you and leaning down to grab your legs, bringing your feet up onto his lap. He pulls your socks off and begins massaging your feet. You lean your head back, eyes closed and let out a long ‘hmmm’. You don’t see Colson glancing over at you and shifting in his seat as he lets out slow breath before turning back to his screen

“Now this is the kind of work session I could get used to”, you sighed "You being my studio bitch on hand for foot rubs. Although, I imagine this enjoyment goes both ways Mr Foot Lover” you tease, throwing him an exaggerated wink

Colson throws his head back with a hearty chuckle, and light heartedly slaps your calf

"Keep it in your pants Y/N"

You laugh and wiggle your toes, Colson letting out a dramatic, throaty groan in response. "Those are some sexy little toes though" he states, sticking his tongue out.

Still laughing, you put your hand to your chest, and gasp as you feign prudishness and try to pull your feet away. He grabs both your feet in one of his hands, keeping them in place then leans over the desk and pulls your laptop towards you

"Get on with some work you, this is supposed to be keeping you motivated, not distracted"

He scolds affectionately, with a smile on his face

“Okay, okay, spoilsport” you grumble as you pull your computer onto your lap

Half an hour passes, your legs still on Colson’s lap with him still massaging your feet absentmindedly with one hand while he works, and your eyes begin to feel heavy. You don’t realise you’ve fallen asleep, until you’re awoken by a “woah” from Colson as he catches your laptop which is about to fall. Taking it from your lap, he states “Right, time for bed you”

You check your phone and see it’s already 5:36am.

You stand up and stretch then walk over behind Colson, putting your arms around his shoulders, and resting your chin on his head. Looking at his screen, you yawn “You got much left to do?”

He leans back into you, bringing his hand up to rest on your arm, “Making some good progress so just gonna finish a couple of bits”

“Okay dude” you gently kiss the top of his head and squeeze the back of his neck a couple of times as you turn to leave “Try and get some rest, we’ve got a long day of sweet fuck all to do tomorrow” you say through another big yawn

“Heh yeah, Night Kid” he says softly, letting out a yawn himself. Colson turns and watches you head out of the studio and lets out a big sigh. Feeling the back of his neck still tingle from where you’d squeezed it, he’s suddenly aware of how empty the room feels without you in it....

______

Taglist: @triplexdoublex @thisshitisfuckingdifficult @brightblaqkkheaven

Lace Up! ❌❌

#colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #mgk imagine #mgk x reader #mgk fluff #mgk smut #Colson Baker #colson baker smut #Mgk #machine gun kelly #mgk fanfiction #Mgk fic #Colson fic #Colson imagine

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a3shithole · 4 years ago

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Hi! If requests are open could i request Masumi with a new reader who just joined the spring truope (who at first is really quiet but when they open up their chaotic side comes out) and he finds himself slowly falling for them and moving on from Izumi?

Bonus if the reader is a meme lord and does the most weird/cursed things for funzies and enjoys making their friends laugh with their stupid shenanigans.

This is such an interesting idea! I feel honored to receive this, thank you for requesting! ⌒°ʚ(ෆ❛ั ᴗ ❛ัʃƪ)ɞ♡°⌒

This will be my third time writing him, and all of them are from requests haha (≡^∇^≡) I honestly had a hard time writing chaotic reader, let alone a meme lord type of person, so I'm sorry in advance that this turns really cringy (^^")

Sorry that I'm slow at doing requests, I was too absorbed into A3!'s last event (Various Vow of Love) haha >///<

Also happy early birthday Masumi! Hope you like this and have a nice day 🌻

Masumi x reader (gender-neutral)

Reader is a new member of Spring Troupe

1294 word

He's been frowning ever since this morning.

Masumi usually still half-asleep when it's time for morning rehearsal, but his eyes turn wide open, as soon as the Director walks into the room. With a stranger. Closely stand near Izumi.

That stranger is you.

Izumi introduces you as the new member for Spring Troupe from now on. You meekly said your name to everyone in the room. The members of Spring Troupe welcomed you with open arms, making sure you adapt to the new environment feeling comfortable. Except for Masumi.

He despises how physically close you are to the Director on the whole rehearsal. He is jealous of how the Director gave her full attention to you. And he almost tackles you--thanks to Chikage and Itaru who holds him--because you praised how tasty Izumi's curry at lunchtime, and resulting in you getting an extra portion from her.

He hates you as the new rookie who's trying to steal the Director away from him.

You are aware of how Masumi has been staring at you since you arrived here. You just didn't understand what did you do to upset him.

"Don't mind him," you turned your head to the other member of Spring Troupe that's been playing on his phone--Itaru was it?

Easier said than done

You exhaled, not realizing you've been holding your breath. You are shy when you are in a new place, but with the addition of someone having vendetta towards you on the first day?

"Umm... Did I do something wrong to him?" you asked the gamer besides you.

"Nope. It's just him being his usual self," he answered casually while still focusing on attacking a slime creature on his phone.

"He is extremely inflated when it comes to the Director, you see~"

"Infatuate. And he's been like that towards the Director for years now. I'm sorry you're experiencing this on your first day."

You just nod to the foreigner and the playwright as a response. While it's a bit of a relief that it was not your fault for him to stare at you full of hatred, if looks could kill, you'd be dead by now.

You yelped in surprise when you realized Masumi stood beside you, staring you down like a small critter getting cornered by a predator. Before you even open your mouth to ask him, he cut you off with a harsh tone.

"Don't go near the Director."

"Masumi!"

And just like that, he went back to his room.

It was a short sentence coming out from his mouth, yet you felt like part of your soul just left your body. It's going to be such a long journey being on this troupe, you thought.

It's been a month since you joined Mankai Company and being part of the Spring troupe. You are mostly silent for the first two weeks, not knowing what to say and only answering stuff if it's directly aimed at you. Masumi still glares at you whenever the Director interacts with you, but that's about it.

But as time goes by, getting a bit more comfortable with everyone on the troupe, doing rehearsal is fun. You start to open up, revealing your true, loud personality to the rest of the members. And with that, Spring Troupe slowly rivals the energy of the Summer Troupe with you in the troupe. Poor Tsuzuru basically got another nuisance to take care of, he felt like he grew more white hair every time watching your shenanigans.

But it was also a fresh atmosphere for the spring troupe. Every rehearsal became so colorful and fun with you around. You love everyone in Mankai, and so do they.

And something changed with Masumi.

Every time you crack some jokes or do some stupid stuff, you do notice he always stares at you. Like, observing your every movement. Not with the ill-intent he does the first few days you join the troupe. Because when you stare back at him, he averted his gaze away from you.

Is he perhaps shy?

Because of that, you have a new mission to do; being besties with Usui Masumi!

"Bruh," you said, poking a certain gamer besides you, "how do you befriend an emo psycho?"

"You don't."

"Man, you're useless."

He throws the towel drenched with his sweats, making you shriek in disgust.

"That is so not pogchamp, dude," you said, throwing the towel back, away from your face to Itaru who is just dabbing.

"Please stop. You two are hurting me," Tsuzuru said from the other side of the room. You and Itaru look at each other and unanimously agree to do an outdated viral dance, earning a loud groan from the playwright.

"Masumiii! Check your LIME!" you yelled across the room one day. You've been trying your best to be close with Usui Masumi. And you're not going to lie, but it's so hard, especially with his lack of response in general.

"No."

"But I sent you some banger memes!"

"Don't care."

"It's Director's faves!"

And with the speed of light, he unlocked his phone to see the abomination you sent into his inbox.

"...why is this ugly dog hitting another dog with a baseball bat?"

"That's you."

"...what?"

You scoot closer to him as he scrolls on his phone, looking at all the crap you sent to him. You just laugh and try to explain each individual picture to him. It's amusing to see him so bewildered.

"Why are you sending me all these unfunny pictures?"

"You make friends by sending them memes! I think it's working, don't you think?!"

"No."

"Gah, so cold!"

"Ooh! Is that the Shoes Camel meme?"

You jumped when one of your fellow troupe mates chimed in to see at Masumi's screen, "Close Ronron! But the name's Suez Canal!"

You two start chatting animately about the recent accident-that-ended-up-being-a-meme, while also edging Masumi to also be involved in the conversation. Then the other four members of Spring Troupe slowly join into your conversation.

It feels weird, Masumi thought to himself.

On how natural you lift up the atmosphere in an instant, even though everything that came out of your mouth sounds ridiculous for him.

Maybe he judged you a bit harshly just because...

What, jealousy?

Why?

Masumi is confused.

This feeling...

He was so sure that he is so in love with the Director, he even prepared their wedding plan and their honeymoon.

Was.

And then you entered Mankai. And his life.

Never in his life, he felt this conflicted.

Recently he catches himself thinking about you randomly. When listening to a song. Or eating his lunch.

And he feels warm when you're around. The way you talk to him is... different. It doesn't feel like this when he talks to Izumi.

...why was he so obsessed with Izumi to begin with anyway?

Masumi is indeed confused.

"Hey," he jolted from a sudden touch from someone on his shoulder. Turning his head, you are standing behind him, with concern plastered on your face.

"You've been standing here for a long time, are you okay?" he relaxed a bit, "...yeah."

You might be annoying at times, but not the over-bearing type from his view, but you know when to tone down your usual energy, "hmm... just know that if you need any help, I'm here for you. I might be useless, but I'm not as useless as the 'G' in Lasagna!"

He realizes that maybe, he was too naïve for clinging onto what he felt for Izumi. He needs to grow as a person, sure, he loves Izumi. But he now realizes it's not that kind of love. With his newfound feeling towards you, however. It feels different.

For the first time, you see a smile on his face.

#a3 #a3!#a3 x reader #a3 imagines #act! addict! actors!#usui masumi #masumi usui #a3! masumi #masumi usui x reader #usui masumi x reader #fanfic #reader insert

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spicyfoodboi · 4 years ago

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Can we get hcs/scenarios of your top 3-4 boys catching their crush asleep on the common room couch in the morning? Would they wake them up, ect.? PS I love your writing + your stuff is always so fluffy and creative ❤️❤️

A dream made on the couch

Genre: fluff

A katsuki bakugo, eijiro kirishima, and denki kaminari x reader

A/n: hey guys! It's been a while since my last bnha fic and it's good to be back! I decided to choose these bois because of the bakusquad! I need to catch up on the manga and watch the second movie ;-; anyways, hope you guys enjoy this 😊😊

Katsuki bakugo

The early bird gets the worm.

He sleeps at 8:30 every night so he usually wakes up early.

He gets up, brushes his teeth aggressively, and just goes downstairs to cook everyone their breakfast.

Just as he was about to start when he sees your sleeping figure on the couch, curled into a ball.

He physically froze in place to look over at your spot.

He groaned, not in anger but worry.

He shook you awake with a "wake up dumbass." every 3 shakes.

Once you do finally wake up, he would scold you in loud grumbles.

"Why are you sleeping here? Your killing your back."

He would whip you up an early breakfast and placed it on the many tables.

You eat up and say thank you.

Maybe kiss him as a thank you and a small confession?

Do that, he will yell out curses and insults to get away from you.

But base on his dark red blush, you know he doesn't mean it.

Eijiro kirishima

He was studying to pass Aizawa's written exam.

He didn't realize it was already past midnight.

He decided to get a glass of water downstairs before going to bed.

He went down and was filling his glass when he sees your sleeping figure, books surrounding you.

He smiled, he was tempted to take a picture.

But he respects you so he wouldn't do that.

He wakes you up instead and handing you his glass of water.

You were very surprised to wake up to the face of your biggest crush.

He offers to help you with your books.

You hesitantly agree.

He suddenly didn't need water.

You guys get to your room, saying thank you, you take your books from him.

You repay him with a kiss on the cheek.

At that moment, His hair camouflaged with his face.

He stumbled back into his room, holding onto your kiss, both in his mind and physically on his cheek.

Denki kaminari

He wanted some food.

And do you think he's gonna wake up bakugo in the middle of the night? Of course not.

He goes downstairs to get some cereal so he didn't have to burn down the kitchen.

He does downstairs and sees something moving in the corner of his eye.

He walked into the dorm living room to see you snuggle up on the couch, the tv was playing static.

You looked like that cliche in horror movies when the main character would be sleeping then something jumps out.

Only, this isn't a horror movie.

He didn't want to wake you up from your slumber.

He tucks you in using the thrown-away blanket, turned off the tv, and took a picture of you for a small memento.

He leans in and kisses your forehead.

He also muttered a small 'i love you.'.

When he sees you turn towards him, half-opened your eyes and sleepily smiled, his heart was about to beat out of his chest.

He took his cereal and booked it back upstairs.

The next day, you tell denki all about him kissing your forehead and telling you the words 'i love you.'.

You thought of it as a dream.

He knew for himself that it wasn't.

That's all for today. Hope you guys enjoyed this! Requests are open for anyone so please don't be shy to leave them in my inbox! Thank you guys so much for reading! Love you guys 💖❤

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twisted-in-wonderland-jay · 4 years ago

Note

For the Emoji Prompt: 💖💘💚🖤💔

With the Diasomnia boys, if it's not too much trouble 😊

Diasomnia Gang

So. I have no idea how long this request has been in my inbox, I don’t get notifications when people request. Does anyone know how to? I have all notification settings on. Any who... For you 💚 Lovers of DIASOMNIA

Note

💖 Do they like PDA or are they a private person

💘 How do they choose to learn about their crush Observation, talking, or asking

💚 What’s their type

🖤 Loving or being loved

💔 What would break their heart

MALLEUS

💖 Malleus is mixed on PDA, he loves the feeling of it, showing the world that your his. But reminds you he has a reputation and is a prince so you just hold pinkies or brush hands. He’s different at home though

💘 He loves to learn via observation and talking to you. Specially if it’s at night. People are most honest at night and you tend to fall asleep in his lap or arms.

💚 He likes gentle and honest, he wants to know he can trust you and you truth him. He likes romantic moments too if you are romantic it’s an A for him, cute little romantic things like a walk, or just talking is true romance for him. he also likes mischievous, and charming people he likes the aura.

If there’s one thing he loves the most is when he over hears you say you love him for his personality, or anything other then his power, and kingdom.

🖤 Loved we all know he needs it. People are always so distant around him to the little things you do send him wild, he just wants you to kiss him gently, hug him for hours, and listen to your heart beat as he lays on you, wrapping his arms and yours around him. (He so touch starved)

💔 It would break his heart if you became scared of him, he would never want you to see him again because he doesn’t want to hurt you. If you forgot him after leaving or stopped hanging out at night. If you said you hates his horns or marks.

LILIA

💖 PDA ALL THE WAY THIS HIM. He would be the one to start it, by doing something bold like grab your ass or hold you at your waist as others walk by and maybe showing his fangs. He would kiss you out of the blue, if your eating and you got something on your face he’ll just lick it off.

💘He loves just talking and listening to you tell him and others about your life before NRC

💚 Fun loving, smart, okay with all the love he has to share after so many years with no one. Good of kids, helps in the kitchen, likes his cooking (do it for him🤢)

🖤 Loving! He loves cuddles, kissing you, hugs, everything under the sun

💔 Calling him a child or old man because of his looks and age respectively. He wants to be your man not your son or the like. Calling him cute is a no no too, under most circumstances

SILVER

💖 He’s quite shy about PDA. He doesn’t mind it if you start or holding your hand, a hug, kiss, or holding your waist are okay with him. He doesn’t show it though, he does have a little spark in his eyes while it’s happening and after.

💘 He likes to learn via asking. When you first started hanging out and getting to know each other he would ask so many questions and answer them back. Though he’s not super talkative around most he likes talking with you and could for hours.

💚 “My dream someone? I’ve never put much thought into it” But if he did it would be a sweet and caring person who wasn’t a pushover, and could stand their ground. Someone who helped keep him awake, who’s chill, like likes compliments too, low maintenance, he just can’t be there all the time but will hang out and talk when he can, he has to watch Malleus, and the like. A little NSFW but little to no sex, he’s not to active.

🖤 Silver loves to be loved. He had a strong and loving upbringing, maybe even a bit to much, he relies on you to give him the love he’s use to. He likes the little things or a lot of small things in large amounts. Like butterfly kisses are his favorite, having you come up and pepper his face with them makes him one of two things. Around others he doesn’t blush, but thanks you for them, because he loves them. Just the two of you he’s all over it! Siting in his lap or coming up behind him sitting on the couch half asleep and littering his checks, mouth, forehead, and nose with kisses makes him blush and grow weak every time.

💔 Breaking his heart is something Silver never wanted to happen, he would probably fall into a depression, but a silent one that only those who truly know him would see. He wants to be there for you and support you but with his “curse” he can’t always. He can’t help it and would be heart broken if you brought up a time he wasn’t there or fall asleep while you were talking.

SEBEK

💖 No! Just no. He’s not into PDA at all. He doesn’t mind you talking to he and being close. He gets all blushy, and a mess (Please don’t tease the boi) He likes to hug and hang out inside alone.

💘 How do they choose to learn about their crush Observation, talking, or asking

💚 LOYAL!!! He’s a man who wants loyalty above everything else. Someone who is understanding, he would like someone who will compliment him and tell him he’s “Strong” and “Brave”. Someone who would like to one day start a family with.

🖤 Loving you. He wants to show you he’s not scary or just the guard of Malleus (Aka Simp). He loves to put his chin on your head, and hug you oh so tight. He’s very needy when your alone or in the halls/dining room or Diasomnia.

💔 If you tell him he’s a simp for Malleus that’ll hurt his feelings a lot, and if you call him weak or not a man because he cares a lot about his masculinity.

I hope you enjoyed this. Please feel free to request something, prompt lists are here. Also you can request more then once. I’ll try to outline and plan the other requests soon, I do take classes so I don’t have much free time.

#twisted wonderland #diasmonia #malleus draconia #silver twisted wonderland #sebek zigvolt #lilia vanrouge #Twisted wonderland headcanons

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years ago

Text

When We Went From Friends to This - a. beauvillier

One day late, but here it is! I’ve been studying for the LSAT, but finally took it today, so I’ll have some more time to be writing more regularly now. Title is from Taylor Swift’s Paper Rings. I loved getting to write this, so please please let me know what you think, my inbox is always open! Reading the tags is one of my favorite things to do, and reblogs help me know people are liking my work.

word count: 7.7k+

September 18 (sat)

Astride Leclair was the kind of person you always wanted on your side. She’d drop anything for a friend, always be the first to reach out, and would never give up on something — or someone — without a fight. She was also incredibly stubborn. Astride had also always had a penchant for adventure, which is how she found herself in a new job 600 miles and one international border from her hometown. And she hated asking for help, it really didn’t matter the circumstance. Which is how she found herself alone, trying to heft an armchair up the stairs of her new apartment building after being very rudely informed by the width of the elevator door that it wasn’t going to fit.

The lump sum her firm gave her for relocation was enough to cover a fair amount of the furniture for her new place and she tried to bring as much as she could on the drive down, but it wasn’t like she was about to rent a U-Haul and there was only so much a Honda Civic could hold. And Astride was still her father’s daughter, still would rather step on a rusty nail than pay Ikea for assembly, so by God she was going to do it herself. And “doing it herself” apparently meant dragging an 80 pound box up three flights of stairs in 90º heat in September, when New York City seemed to have not quite yet gotten the memo that the rest of the Northern Hemisphere was now in fall.

Astride finally managed to get the chair in the door, propping the door open with one of her moving boxes, unceremoniously pulling the box through the entryway as she scooted backwards into the living room. The 600 square foot expanse of her apartment was covered in boxes, more boxes, and for good measure, extra boxes. There were moving boxes, furniture boxes, shoeboxes filled with anything except for actual shoes. There was her guitar leaning against the microwave, three suitcases worth of clothes in the barely-assembled bedroom, and her dog in a crate in the corner, who had started to whine.

“I know, baby, I’ll get you out soon,” Astride said, shooting a sympathetic glance towards the beagle mix. She had adopted Poutine a little over a year ago, soon after starting her first job out of university. It was never a question whether or not she would make the trip with Astride, and thankfully it was much easier than she anticipated to find a dog-friendly apartment in Brooklyn. It wasn’t too long a walk to Prospect Park, a little under a mile, and she was looking forward to getting out with Poutine later in the day. If, that was, she actually finished unpacking enough boxes to function like a normal human being. She had picked up her mattress-in-a-box earlier in the day, but it was still sitting in the corner of her bedroom and she wasn’t particularly looking forward to a night on the hardwood floor.

---

Three hours later, Astride had finally gotten all of the boxes out of her car and began to make decent headway on assembling the chair, finally having let Poutine out of her crate. The beagle trotted around the apartment, sniffing the baseboards, boxes, and single bag of groceries Astride had picked up from Whole Foods earlier in the day. The rest of her Ikea order was coming the next day, the actual bedframe and couch along with a couple of other larger furniture pieces that she had had to leave in Montréal. Whatever she couldn’t order online she’d find at a thrift store.

Astride looked tiredly over at the kitchen. She really wasn’t in the mood to cook, and was in even less of a mood to dig through all the boxes until she finally found her set of pots and pans. She really should have taken her mom’s advice and labeled everything, but Astride was stubborn as a mule, and once she was stuck in her ways, there was precious little anyone could do to convince her otherwise. Pulling out her phone, she navigated to her Uber Eats, feeling a tiny pang in her heart as she switched her location to New York. Not the language, though. Astride was so hungry that she literally clicked on whatever place could get there the fastest, which ended up being a Chinese place a mile or so away. After placing her order — she got an extra box of chow mein so she wouldn’t have to deal with breakfast the next day — she settled back into the hair, the only fully-assembled piece of furniture in the whole apartment. Her finger hovered over her Instagram for a moment before she clicked on it, liking a few photos before going to post one of her own. It was a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge as she crossed it that morning, Poutine’s head lolling out the front window. One tap and one caption later, it was posted.

---

Anthony flopped onto his bed, his duffel landing with a satisfying thump on the floor beside him. Training camp had just ended, and while he’d certainly been keeping up on his workouts over the summer, the hours upon hours of skating had nevertheless made him more than a little sore. He grabbed his phone, opening up Instagram and scrolling through the new posts, only half paying attention. Astride’s new photo caught his eye.

Sometimes, needing a change means a new haircut. Sometimes, it means a new country. Very excited to start this next chapter in my life. Salut, New York! Anthony quickly clicked onto her profile page and read her bio. International economics analyst. Eating my way through the world one pancake at a time. BCom McGill. MTL-NYC. He read the last line over and over again. MTL-NYC. He swiped back to the photo; she had tagged herself in Brooklyn. Brooklyn. She was less than an hour away, not even thirty if the traffic wasn’t bad. But she hadn’t told him, she hadn’t said anything. Anthony felt a pang in his heart. Astride knew who he played for — obviously — and she knew that of course he’d want to see her any time they were even remotely in the same place. She knew that. Right?

He spent the next twenty minutes typing out a message to her. Then deleting it. Then retyping it. Then continuing the type-delete-retype cycle until his head was spinning. This was his best friend. Why was he so nervous to talk to her? Because she was his best friend, and as much as he hated to admit it, he really wasn’t sure where they stood. He hadn’t been sure for a long time. Hey Asty! He internally cringed at himself at the use of her old nickname. I saw you moved to New York, that’s amazing! I’m over on Long Island, so I’d love to catch up with you for coffee or something when you get a chance. It’s been too long :)

It might have been a little petty — scratch that, it definitely was petty — but Astride didn’t respond to his text that night. She didn’t have read receipts on, thank God, but it sat in her messages, without response, like something she was too scared to confront. And she didn’t even know why. Okay, fine, she knew exactly why. She had moved and suddenly they were in the same city for the first time since they were kids and he was, had been, her best friend, but why now of all times? It’s not like he was never in Montréal during the year, or like they couldn’t have committed to a weekly FaceTime or something, or at least texted more than once a month. He could have done something. And that something, that lack of a something, was what kept her from responding until the next morning, tapping out a text as she halfheartedly made her way through a bowl of oatmeal. Hi, Tito, just saw your text! Lie. I did, an opportunity for a transfer came up and I decided to take it. I figured you were pretty close by, so it would be great to catch up. I don’t start at the office for a week, if you’re free any time between now and then. That much was true. She wasn’t stupid, she knew the Islanders played on, well, Long Island, and as much as she wanted to still hold a grudge against him, her heart ached at the prospect of finally being able to see him again.

Anthony responded almost instantly, Astride having just closed the door to the dishwasher — a luxury in New York, she was told — before seeing her phone light up with the telltale bubble. I’d love to, we just finished up training camp so I’m more or less free aside from practices. A second later. Is brunch still your favorite meal?

Astride laughed. It didn’t surprise her that he remembered, but it was still touching to see him say something about it. It is.

How about Tuesday? I’ll send you the directions. It’s this little café in Flatbush, I think you’ll love it.

I’m counting on it.

September 26 (sun)

Brunch had turned into dinner, which had turned into going to a Broadway show — Anthony had insisted the moment she told him she’d never been — which had turned into him coming over for Saturday night movies, an old habit of the pair’s from their days back in Québec. Which had turned into two movies and two bottles of wine, which had turned into Tito sleeping over on the couch instead of driving the thirty-odd minutes back to his apartment. Poutine sniffed him curiously, nudging one hand with her head. Astride stifled a giggle, opening the door to the balcony. “He’s very sleepy, Poutine. It’s not good manners to wake up your guests.”

“Even when they fall asleep on your couch and steal all your blankets?” Anthony said sleepily from behind.

Astride wheeled around, greeted by a half-awake Anthony Beauvillier, who was indeed bundled in all of the blankets she owned that weren’t actively on her bed. “Tito! Oh my God, you scared me. How’d you sleep?”

He shrugged. “Not bad, about as well as can be expected.” He tapped his phone, cursing when he realized it was dead. “Do you know what time it is?”

She glanced down at her watch. “8:52, why?”

Anthony jumped up, throwing his shirt back on and grabbing his still-dead phone. “I’m supposed to meet Mat for breakfast at 9:30, and the place is,” he paused for a moment, running through the grid system in his head, “probably half an hour away? I’m never the late one, can’t break that streak now.”

“Gotcha.”

He grabbed his keys, looking back at her. “Why don’t you come? You’re already dressed, and you remember Mat, right?”

She wiggled her hand. “Kind of?” She crossed the room, letting Poutine back in. “You only want me for my charged phone and navigation system.”

“You got me,” he said, laughing.

---

“You named your dog Poutine?” Mat snickered, taking a bite of his eggs.

“Would you rather I named him Tim Horton?” Astride deadpanned. “He’s a good Canadian boy with a good Canadian mom. He needed a good Canadian name.”

Mat raised his coffee mug, tilting it over towards her. “Touché.”

Anthony waved his hand in front of Mat’s face, trying to catch his attention from where he was utterly preoccupied with destroying his sourdough toast. “Hey, Mat.”

“Mmm?” He glanced up.

“Did you know that Astride lives right by Barclays? Like, right by Barclays?”

His eyebrows rose. “No way?” Astride nodded. “That’s a great area, would have been awesome if you were here a couple of years ago. Short walk to the games.”

“That’s what I told her yesterday,” Tito responded.

---

“You’re kidding,” Anthony said, looking up at her building, then across the street to Barclays, then back to Astride, one hand tangling through his hair. “We used to play right across from here.”

Astride laughed. “I thought about that,” she said. “You know I still watched your games, right? Even after we fell out of touch?” Anthony shook his head. “You were still someone I cared about, are still someone I care about, even when we only talked a few times a year.”

Beau stood there, unable to formulate a complete sentence. As far as he knew, the last Islanders game she watched had been the 2016 opener, his NHL debut and her first year at McGill. Why did he assume that? Why did he assume the worst? You can care about people even when they’re not in your life anymore. And sometimes, if you get really, really lucky, they come back.

October 9 (sat)

“Ebs is having a barbeque thing over at his house this weekend, just stuff to celebrate the beginning of the season if you wanted to come. No pressure if you’ve got plans already, though,” Anthony said over the FaceTime.

Astride nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds great, I’d love to come! Just let me know when to show up and what to bring, and I’ll be there.”

It was almost a fifty-minute drive for Astride from her apartment in Prospect Heights to the house in Garden City, but there wasn’t too much traffic and besides, she had always liked driving. So she set off in her Civic, plugged her music in, and headed down 495. Anthony met her outside of the house, greeting her with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek as he cocked his head towards the backyard. “Party’s this way. Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

Astride dutifully followed, trying not to let her nerves take hold of her. Everyone might have already been Beau’s friends, but she didn’t know them, or the dynamic of everyone’s relationships, or really, what to expect at all.

He noticed her apprehension, stopping her with a feather-light touch on her arm just before walking through the back gate. “Hey, Asty. What is it?”

She let out a little huff, still upset that he could read her like a book even after all this time. “I’m just worried that I’ll feel like I’m intruding on everything, like everyone already has their friends and a group and everything, and here comes some random Québécoise who’s a friend of Tito’s—”

He laughed, turning her around to face him. “Astride, they’re going to love you. As long as you’re the hilarious, witty, caring person I know you are, they’re going to love you as much as I do, and you’re going to fit in just fine. Do you trust me?”

She gave a tiny nod. “Yeah.”

He smiled, squeezing her hand. “Good, now come back, everyone’s waiting.”

They walked through the gate, greeted by a crowd of smiling faces as Anthony brought her around to everyone to make their rounds. There was Anders, he was the captain, and his wife. There was Jordan and Lauren, and she already knew Mat, and JGP — who was excited to have another person to speak French to — and a dozen or so others, along with their respective partners and children. Anthony had gone over to talk to Mat and some of the other players, while Astride had wandered over to the drinks table. Some of the other women were chatting nearby; one of them caught Astride’s eye and waved her over to join them.

“Beau didn’t tell us he was bringing anyone!” one of the women said, pulling her over to the group with a bright smile and handing her a glass of sangria.

“Mhm,” she replied, taking a sip of the drink. “I’m new to the city, obviously, so I think he wanted me to have some people I know outside of just work.”

They all nodded. “How long have you two been together, though?” another asked. “I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone, did you?” She looked around at the others, who shook their heads as Astride’s eyes bulged.

“Together? No, no, we’re not together. We’ve been best friends for ages, but,” she shook her head.

“Could have fooled me,” Lauren said with the smallest of winks.

Astride suddenly became very interested in the floating berries in her sangria. She looked over at Anthony, who was throwing his head back, laughing at something one of the rookies had said, and smiled. But Lauren’s words kept lingering in the back of her mind. Could have fooled me. Okay, it wasn’t like it was the first time they had been mistaken for a couple; whenever she’d make the trip up to Shawingan to visit him when he was in the QMJHL, more than once she’d have to explain to his teammates that no, she wasn’t Beau’s girlfriend, they were just best friends who had known each other forever. Just best friends.

Astride had always equated her lingering feelings for Anthony to the nostalgia of a childhood crush, the safety and security that came with remembering something from a time that seemed so simple and so easy. But childhood crushes didn’t last for ten years. And that wasn’t something she hadn’t wanted to come to terms with, something she’d been putting off for years if she was being honest with herself.

“You didn’t tell me Astride was coming,” Mat commented, seeing her mid-laugh in conversation with the other girls.

Anthony nodded. “Yeah. She didn’t have any plans for the weekend and I thought it would be nice to introduce her to everyone. I remember how shitty it felt to be in a new city away from your family, don’t want her to be lonely. Plus, I genuinely think she’ll fit in great with everyone.”

Mat hummed his agreement. “She’s changed since Switzerland, don’t you think?” he asked appreciatively, referring to over five years ago, the last time he had seen her in person.

“Don’t even think about it,” Beau mumbled to Mat, seeing his eyebrows go so far up they were hidden in his hairline.

“I see a hot girl, I appreciate a hot girl,” Mat shrugged. “But don’t worry, I won’t try anything. I know she’s off-limits.”

The rest of the afternoon passed quicker than she would have thought, and after a few hours and more good conversations, it was time for Astride to leave. “Have a safe drive back,” Anthony said, giving her a hug.

“I will,” she responded.

He opened the driver’s side door for her. “I’m really glad you came, you know. Everyone liked you, you fit in great.”

“It wasn’t all me,” she said, sliding into the seat, turning her head to Anthony to continue the conversation. “Everyone really did seem to go out of their way to make me feel included, I think they understood the feeling of moving to a whole new place without a big support system and wanted to do what they could to help mitigate that for me.” Astride consciously left out Lauren’s little comment, four words that had been bouncing around in her head for hours since they had been said. He didn’t need to know. She didn’t need him to know, it could confuse him and complicate things when they were just getting back into the rhythm of friendship, of being each other’s person.

Anthony tapped his fingers on the car door. “I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

Beau went to sleep that night, Mat’s words bouncing around in his head. “I know she’s off-limits.” It’s not like Cass was his sister or something, someone who would inherently be barred from his best friend’s dating pool. But Mat seemed to know right away, without having ever been told, that she wasn’t someone he could ever even consider pursuing. Why? And what did Mat seem to know that he didn’t?

November 12 (fri)

It was early November, and Anthony and Astride had just settled down at a table in Prospect Park, coffee cups warming their hands through the late fall chill. “How do you feel about last night?” Astride asked teasingly. He had a three point game, two goals and an assist in a 4-1 win over the Canes, so there really wasn’t any question that he was still riding on the high.

Beau rolled his eyes. “Good, obviously. It would have been nice to get a hat trick, but I know that’s asking for a lot and I didn’t want to tempt fate too much. They made a really good push late in the second.”

“But you won,” she said, poking his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her mocha.

“But we won,” he agreed. He suddenly got quiet, the kind of quiet where, if you know the person well enough, you can tell that something’s up. That they’re thinking of something. And Astride was right. “Do you ever think about Switzerland?” he asked.

Astride looked at him from the side, knowing right away that he wasn’t asking about the country. “All the time,” she admitted.

---

It was the spring of 2015, and they were in Lucerne. By they, Astride meant her, Tito, and the rest of the 2015 Canadian U18 World Cup team. And by in Lucerne, she meant crowded into someone’s hotel room with no adult supervision. Anthony wasn’t sure where any of the coaching staff had gone, but if he was being honest, he was riding on way too big of a high to even care. They had clinched the bronze medal earlier that day, celebrating with the family and friends who had made the trip out, gotten dinner, and then packed into the first team room they came to. Well, technically, Astride, Tito, and Mat had made a stop at the grocery store before meeting everyone else back in the room. The drinking age in Switzerland was 16 for everything but spirits, and everyone was planning on taking full advantage of that. The cashier gave them a look as she took her and Anthony’s French licenses and Mat’s English one, but the charge went through just fine, and fifteen minutes later they were walking back through the doorway with three cases of beer and a few bottles of sparkling wine for good measure. Astride had never been so grateful to have her own checking account.

“You ever drink before?” Mat asked her as they opened the cases.

Astride shrugged. “Not really. A glass of wine every now and again back home with my parents, but nothing too crazy.”

He held out a bottle for her, fishing around in his pocket for the bottle opener they had picked up at the store. “Have fun.”

And have fun Astride did. She had finished off two of the beers, and one of the younger teammates — she didn’t remember who — had popped open the wine. In his slightly inebriated state, it took longer than it should have to twist off the muselet, which then led to foam all over the floor and fifteen sixteen and seventeen-year-olds running to the bathroom to grab towels to try and mop it up with. And then running back to the bathroom to get the water glasses because they needed something to drink it out of, right? And then to everyone else’s rooms because they quickly realized that two cups definitely wasn’t enough to go around, and then everyone was back in the room, on the beds and around the beds, finally letting themselves celebrate. Astride was just finishing her glass when Mat spoke. “Anyone up for never have I ever?” Nobody said otherwise, so two minutes later, they were all arranged in what could very generously be called a circle, fresh drinks in hand. After a solid five minutes of repeating the rules — there was always at least one person who seemed to genuinely struggle with the idea that you drank if you had done the thing, not if you hadn’t — they were slowly but surely making their way around the circle.

Questions ranged from the mundane — “Never have I ever gotten detention” — to the raunchy — “Never have I ever had my parents walk in on me” — neither of which Astride or Tito drank to.

By the time it was Mat’s turn, he had had plenty of time to think, looking around the group with a conspiratorial grin. “What is it?” Tito asked skeptically.

He shrugged. “Never have I ever...kissed anyone in the circle.” As expected, nobody drank, but apparently that wasn’t expected, not for Mat, at least. He looked between Anthony and Astride incredulously. “Seriously? You two have never kissed?”

Anthony shook his head. “Nope.”

“How? You’ve been friends for, like, a million years, not even when you were little or anything?” he asked.

“Never,” Astride said. “Kind of hard to kiss your best friend when you haven’t kissed anyone before.” She barely even realized that everyone was still listening in.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” Anthony asked, surprised.

Astride looked down at her hands, sipping her beer. “Nope.” She gave him a brief smile. “I know it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but no. Just hasn’t happened yet.”

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or maybe it was feelings buried so deeply in Anthony’s mind that he didn’t think would ever see the light of day, let alone have to be confronted, that made him say what he did next. “I could—if you wanted—you don’t have to, but—” he stammered.

Astride laughed, looking at him curiously. “What is it, Tito? You’re not normally one to stumble over your words like that.”

He picked at his fingernails, an old nervous tick from his childhood that his mother was never quite able to get him to break, keenly aware that the whole room had decided to listen into their conversation. “I was just trying to say...I could do it, if you want. Kiss you, I mean. If you just wanted to get it over with, or whatever. I just figured. You know me, you trust me, you’re comfortable with me. Better that than some idiot at school who doesn’t care about you.”

Her cheeks burned as she looked over at him, but even though it took her nearly a minute to respond, she had her answer after five seconds. “Why not?” Astride flashed him the purest, gentlest smile, the kind that let him know just how much she cared about him and how deeply she trusted him. And the look on her face meant the world to him.

Anthony leaned in, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder, his fingertips just barely touching her cheek as their foreheads leant together. “You sure about this?” He needed her to be sure.

She nodded. “I’ve had a couple of drinks, and I never imagined my first kiss would be in front of an audience,” she paused to giggle at the rest of the team, who were giving the scene their full attention in a way that somehow wasn’t uncomfortable at all, just wholesome and supportive, “but yeah. I’m sure.”

That was all the permission Anthony needed to lean forward, pressing his lips against hers, in a kiss that was soft and sweet and somehow everything Astride needed all in one. He pulled back after a moment, a goofy smile on his face. “How was it?”

Astride couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Good, it was really good, Tito. Thank you for that.”

“What are friends for?”

---

“Friends are for kissing each other, apparently,” Astride giggled, leaning into Anthony on his couch.

He laughed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over her arm. “Did you ever think something was going to happen between us?” Anthony asked curiously.

Astride shrugged. “At some point, yeah. I think it was kind of hard not to, with our parents and literally everyone we spent time with saying we were destined to fall in love.” She looked down at her hands, trying not to give away the fact that at one point, she had believed them.

November 30 (tues)

“Do you want to come over Friday?” Anthony asked, sprawled out across her couch on one of his rare nights off. He had made the drive over to Astride’s apartment, cooking salmon and roasting vegetables while she took the much more daunting task of picking what to watch on Netflix. She settled on Back to the Future. “I can order in Thai, I know we’re trying to work our way through the Mission Impossibles.”

Astride grimaced. “I actually...kind of have a date Friday night,” she admitted.

Anthony made a hum of surprise. “You do?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t act so shocked, Tito. There are men in this city of nine million who want to take me out.”

He sputtered. “It’s not that that shocks me, Asty. You’d have men lining up around the block for you if you’d give any of them a second glance. It’s just that. You never seem to bother actually going after any of them. What made this one different?”

“I mean, honestly hour?” Astride said, shrugging.

“Honestly hour.”

“I haven’t been on a date since I left Montréal, you know that. It had been a few months there too. And I’ve loved hanging out with you more, getting to know Mat and the team and everyone’s partners, but...I needed something different, too. Something that felt like a part of my life that wasn’t directly connected to the team. Which, don’t get me wrong,” she added hastily, “I love them, and it’s been so nice to be a part of that group, I just…” Astride trailed off.

“You can’t let that be the only part of your life. I get it,” Anthony added helpfully.

“Yeah,” Astride agreed. “So enter Cole. He works in a different division of the IE department, I’m obviously Europe and he’s Asia, mostly does work with Taiwan and Singapore. Um,” she said, her eyes turning towards the ceiling, “he seems really nice, did international business at UPenn, which is a great program. Speaks fluent Mandarin, uh, I think he mentioned he’s got a few fish at home.”

Anthony snorted. “What’s wrong with fish?” Astride asked defensively.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong with fish,” he said. “Just seems like an odd choice. Maybe his building doesn’t allow pets or something.”

“Maybe,” Astride responded. “I wouldn’t know, he lives in Manhattan, over in Tribeca. Bikes to work.”

Tito laughed again. “I don’t trust people who bike to work in New York City, Asty. They have zero regard for their own lives or safety.”

She giggled. “That might be true. But I’m looking forward to it, the date, I mean. I really am. It’s been a while since I’ve really put myself back out there, and I’m ready for something good. Something real.”

He gave a half-smile from his side of the couch. “I’m happy for you, Astride. I hope you have a great time, and I hope he treats you right. If he doesn’t, just let him know that you can sic an entire professional hockey team on him with a single phone call.”

“I will,” she said. “I’ll call you when it’s over, tell you how it went.” “

I’ll be waiting,” he said.

Anthony thought back on the conversation as he sat on the corner of his bed that night, about to go to sleep. He turned his phone over and over in his hands, his eyes fixating on the chip in the crown molding that he hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet. He wasn’t lying to Astride when he said he was happy for her. He was, of course he was, who wouldn’t want their best friend to be happy? But while he wanted nothing more, nothing more, than to be able to give his full-throated support for her date, and the potential the future held for her and this Cole guy, he couldn’t do it. There was something stopping him. And the worst part of it all was that Anthony was starting to realize what it was.

---

Astride had said that their dinner reservation was at 7, some brasserie in the West Village. “That’s a French thing, right?” Cole had asked.

“It is,” Astride responded, gearing up for her translation skills to be used for the first time in months. She spoke almost exclusively French around Tito, and with JGP and Brassard, but the majority of her day was spent in English. Cole said that the restaurant had come highly recommended from one of his Wall Street friends, something that should have been the first red flag.

“Never trust the finance bros,” Reese, a German specialist and one of her friends at the office, had said. “They all think they’re God’s gift to mankind when I can guarantee you they ain’t shit.”

She had said it was at 7, so Anthony wasn’t expecting to hear from her until much later; honestly, he would have been surprised if she had called before 10. He tried not to think about what it could mean if she didn’t call at all that night. She had said it was at 7, so when he heard a knock at his door at half past nine, he practically jumped out of his skin before scrambling to open the door. His eyebrows rose when he saw Astride on the other side of the door, then his face contorted into a look of sympathy as he saw the sad smile on her lips, her jacket slung over one arm.

“Can I come in?” she asked. He nodded without question, holding the door while stepping out of the way. He padded to the kitchen, bringing out a bottle of Moscato and two glasses. Astride smiled gratefully at him as he uncorked the bottle and poured. He knew that she couldn’t do red wine when she was upset, and she was upset.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked tentatively.

Astride shrugged, sipping the wine. “Not much to tell other than it was probably the worst first date I’ve ever been on.”

That piqued Anthony’s interest. He’d never be happy that she was upset, but something told him the story wasn’t quite that simple. “What about it was so bad?”

“Where do I begin?” she sighed. “He was on time, but that’s pretty much the only thing Cole did right the entire night. He was rude to the waitress when we had to wait all of ten minutes until our reservation was ready, because the couple ahead had gone long. Then he ordered the most expensive bottle of red wine they had, without even asking me to see what I wanted. He really just was trying to show off that he could afford it. And it was a Sangiovese, and you know I hate dry wines, so I was just trying to choke the whole thing down. And then he insisted on ordering for me, which is probably the most chauvinistic thing I could think of, I mean, who does that anymore?” she asked incredulously.

Tito shrugged. It was disrespectful, absolutely, but more than that, it was just weird. If women have mouths that work, then they’re more than capable of doing something as simple as ordering their own food.

“And he kept trying to pour me more wine after the first glass, even when I told him a million times I was good.” Anthony’s grip on his glass tightened. Astride rubbed her temples with her free hand. “He just kept going on and on about work, and this big promotion he’s insisting he’s going to get even though I know for a fact that they want Maria for it. I could barely get a word in edgewise. That’s when I just decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I faked that Jean-Claude was calling, grabbed my jacket, and caught a cab over here.” She looked up at him, the same disappointed expression she had worn when he opened the door. “I was really hoping this one would pan out, Tito.”

He felt an ache in his heart. He may have been less than thrilled about the prospect of Astride going out on a date, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less to see her so despondent. He leaned over, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear that had fallen loose. “I know, Asty. And I’m sorry it didn’t.”

December 13 (mon)

Anthony and Mat were the last ones in the locker room after a morning practice. “I found this new place nearby last week that’s got great smoothie bowls, want to get one after you finish packing your stuff?” Anthony asked, looking over at Mat.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, Sounds good,” Mat nodded, half-listening.

Anthony glanced over at him, a weird look on his face. “You good, dude? You sound distracted.”

Mat spoke abruptly, looking over at Tito with a laser-focused expression. “How long have you been in love with Astride?”

Anthony’s eyebrows jumped a foot. “In love with Astride? Why would you think that?”

Mat gave him a look, the kind of look that let Anthony know he was dead serious about what he was saying, and more than that, that he believed it. “Tito, I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid.”

Anthony leaned forward, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “It’s that obvious?”

“Yep,” Mat said, popping the p.

“Do you think she knows?” His voice had dropped to barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Mat said, shrugging. “I don’t think so, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to really be able to know about something as big as that and not address it. Doesn’t like to keep things bottled up, it’s not really her style.”

Anthony nodded. “It’s not.” He raked one hand through his haid, his head still leaning on the other one. “God. How do you tell your best friend you’re in love with her?”

Mat put one hand on Beau’s back, comforting him as best he could. “I don’t know, Tito. I wish I could help. What I do know,” he said, “is that you’re going to have to eventually. Because it’s going to tear you up if you don’t.”

December 18 (sat)

Astride tossed one final empty can into the garbage bag. “I think that’s it,” she said, giving his living room a cursory look. What had looked like a warzone only less than an hour before now more closely resembled the somewhat-messy but perfectly respectable bachelor pad of a man in his 20s, like it should have. With the holidays approaching, Anthony had decided to take it into his own hands to host a party — alongside Astride, who he had practically begged for help — intent on showcasing his newly-acquired skills by playing bartender the whole night. He was surprisingly capable, Astride had thought, if her Sazerac was anything to go by.

He smiled at her. “Thanks, Asty. And thanks for staying and helping clean everything up, you really didn’t have to.”

She tied the bag off and set it by the door with the other one. “I wanted to. And besides, I’m staying over,” she said, looking over at Anthony, “so what did you think I was going to do? Lock myself in the guest room while you cleaned up the whole apartment by yourself? What kind of a woman do you take me for?” she asked in mock offense.

Anthony laughed, sitting down on the couch with a satisfying thump, pulling Astride into his side when she settled next to him.

“I’m so glad we got back in contact,” she said, muffled against the fabric of his hoodie. “I’m so glad we’re friends again.”

He felt guilty; more than that, he knew that the guilt, at least some of it, was deserved. “I should have done more,” he lamented. “I should have done more to keep in contact, more to show you I cared, more so you’d know that your friendship is one of the things I value most in my life.”

Astride gave a small smile. “It’s a two-way street, Tito. Sure, I won’t lie and say that you really put all that much effort into keeping in contact. You didn’t.” He winced, she shot him a sympathetic look. “I love you, but you know me. I don’t mince my words. But I definitely could have done more than text you congratulations or leave a thirty-second voicemail on your birthday. We both could have done more. We both should have done more,” she said, correcting herself. “What do you think happened, though? Where did we go wrong?” As much as she might have hated it, Astride was that kind of person. She went through every bad decision in her life with a fine-toothed comb, needing to know what went wrong, needing to know what she could have done differently.

“I think,” he began, “that it was just so easy to get distracted from ‘back home’ things. From our friendship, from my relationships with my family. From the important things, the things that I should have made an effort to prioritize even when the season got hectic and games got hard. And I’m not trying to make excuses,” he added quickly, “but there was just something about where I was, physically and mentally. I was 19, a rookie in one of the biggest cities in the world, and I think I just lost sight of things. Between the practices and games and going out and community events and trying to get in more than five hours of sleep a night, it was a lot,” he admitted. “It was stressful, probably weighed on me more than I wanted to admit. And I don’t want to sound ungrateful, because I’m well aware I was — and am — living a life thousands of kids would kill for, but there’s a lot that goes on behind the scenes that you don’t really understand unless you’ve been through it. I don’t have many regrets from my rookie season, or really many in my career so far. Don’t regret moving for minors, don’t regret going to the Isles, don’t regret any of the contracts I’ve signed or plays I’ve made. Well,” he smirked, “maybe a few. But the one big one? The only real regret I’ve had? Letting you go.”

Astride swallowed hard, choosing her next words carefully. “What do you mean, letting me go?”

Anthony let out a hard sigh. He’d put it off for long enough. He couldn’t do it any longer. “Never telling you how I feel.”

“How you feel?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper, her fingers tangling in the fringe of the fleece blanket that was slung over the couch cushions.

“Like I love you so much my heart could burst.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “How long have you known?”

He looked at her with a soft smile. “Ever since Switzerland.”

“Six years?”

“Six years.” He reached out slowly, so slowly, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear when she didn’t move back. They sat in silence for a moment, and when Anthony spoke again, his voice wavered. “Asty? Say something.”

Astride’s lifted her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I knew since I was 15.”

His face split into a grin, wider and wider until she was sure she’d never seen a bigger smile. “You did? You do?”

She nodded, leaning forward so their foreheads were touching. She put her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat fluttering butterfly-fast underneath her fingertips. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since I knew what love was, Tito.”

He pushed forward, pressing his lips against hers for the first time since 2015, the first time since Switzerland. It was gentle and meaningful and somehow communicated all of the love and emotion that had been built up between the two of them in the past six years. Anthony pulled back after a minute, his lips pink and slightly puffy. “Tell me where your head’s at, Astride.”

“Is it too cliché to just say that this might be the happiest I’ve been in years?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Not at all.” But there was something that she wasn’t quite letting go of. “What is it, Astride?”

Astride sniffed. “I want this. You and I, I want it so mad it hurts. I just hate the idea that we’d turn into some sort of cliché. Childhood friends who grow up and fall in love, but something goes wrong and they split up and suddenly the dynamic of everything is messed up and I don’t want that, Tito. I don’t know if I could deal with you hating me because of how things ended.”

“But things don’t have to end, Asty. Every broken heart, every date where some asshole has stood you up has led you to know that you deserve more. You deserve so much more, Astride, you deserve the sun and the moon and someone who would hang them in the sky for you. It doesn’t have to end in heartbreak. It doesn’t have to end at all.”

Astride had always been someone who was cautious, someone who thought before she acted and never spoke without thinking through every possible outcome. But this was one of the times that she couldn’t do that, one of the times when, as much as she may have hated it, she needed to take a leap of faith. And so she did. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Anthony asked, his voice lifting.

She nodded, the happiness on her face unmistakable. “Okay.”

And as Astride and Anthony FaceTimed her parents to break the news, her mom slapping her dad’s shoulder, claiming that she had “called it” back in 2014, Astride was filled with a sense of undeniable, irreplaceable joy. The kind of joy that the poets write about and artists put brush to canvas trying to depict, the kind that most people go their whole lives only hoping to get a glimpse of. The kind that made Astride more certain of one thing than she had perhaps been in her entire life. It didn’t have to end in heartbreak. And this one didn’t have to end at all.

And as they stood two years later in a little church in their hometown, promising in front of their family and friends and the entire New York Islanders to love each other for the rest of their lives, Astride finally believed it.

#anthony beauvillier #hockey smut #hockey writing #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #new york islanders

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mcfreakin-bxtch · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome Home

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Half-awake and goofy Reader, Daddy Kink, Soft Sex, Unprotected Sex, Language, Fluffff

Word Count: 2.5K+

Summary: After many sleepless nights (and one missed text), Bucky is finally home.

A/N: Reposting because Tumblr hates meeeeee. I know I’ve been IA off and on here but I promise I’m working on my series as much as I can. It’s been one hell of an year, huh? My inbox is always open for you lovelies. Love you all.

***

The bed feels too big without him.

It’s normal to feel this way on most lonely nights, when Bucky has to be away on a mission—not like he isn’t saving the world or anything, but after two years of sleeping next to his heavy but familiar weight, it’s hard to fall asleep without it. What’s worse is that you can’t rest your head over his heartbeat or crawl into his warm, open arms, or kiss that little pout on his lips.

You even begin to miss the array of clothes spread out on a pile in the corner of the room that he always claims he’ll get to when they start to smell—as much as you want to kill him for it, you sincerely miss it now.

The blocky red numbers glare at you from where it sits on your nightstand, reminding you for the hundredth time that this is the fifth night in a row of tossing and turning and it’s four in the morning. Your body is fatigued but your mind anxious and relentless; he hasn’t texted like he promised he would, like how it’s been on nearly every mission, and maybe it’s because of the fact that he’ll be home tomorrow, not because he’s—

“Stop,” you whisper to yourself.

You let out a deep sigh and flop onto your back—the ceiling still has the same color and the small crack that keeps you fixated for a decent amount of time. Not even the running box fan or the low volume of your tv is doing anything to appease your unsettling thoughts. At this point, you don’t want to get up at all, not even to pee… no, you really need to go.

The bathroom is just as cold as the bedroom feels and it makes you want to cry; you won’t, but it’s close. The slight chilly air stings your bare feet as they paddle across the floor, sitting up this time on your bed and snatching the remote with a huff. You flip through the channels mindlessly, barely paying attention to the titles—titles that you’ve already seen a thousand times—while slumping against the pillows with the hope that SpongeBob SquarePants will be the final solution to your sleeping problem.

You become so engrossed in the cartoon that you don’t notice the creak of your house door, or the soft plop of a bag on the floor, nor the light steps making their towards your room until the handle jiggles rather loudly for someone who’s trying to sneak around; Bucky still underestimates his own strength on some days, like this one.

When the door starts to slowly open you curse yourself for not being more attentive, and try to remember with stiff muscles where that stupid knife Bucky gave you is…

“Shit,” the intruder curses. “Sorry, doll. Did I wake ya?”

The gruff whisper—twinged with a light Brooklyn accent—echoes across the room and straight to your chest, your heart stuttering a beat at the realization; the ocean gray eyes meets yours with a tired but exciting glint that equally matches the one in yours and that beautiful, beautiful full smile greets you like home.

“Bucky!” You squeal quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace, opening your arms out wide for him. “You’re home.”

He chuckles and closes the door behind him, slipping his gloves off, the two or maybe three shirts (armor, padding, whatever it is) he easily shrugs off, then his socks and pants, leaving him in a tank top and boxers. You wait patiently, all the while checking for any new scrapes and bruises or any signs of injury in his expression; so far so good.

The mattress dips under his fists as he leans over to give you a kiss; it’s short, just a quick peck that leaves you whining for more. Instead, he smiles again and rubs the tip of his nose affectionately against yours.

“I missed you,” his breath ghosts over your lips.

You cup his face, his light stubble scratching your skin, and pull him towards a longer, deeper kiss. He moans faintly into the kiss and dips the rest of his weight on the bed, curling into you instinctively; he fits against you like your puzzle piece, and when you lie down he follows fluently, careful of not laying all of his weight on you—as much you really want him to squish you.

“I missed you more,” you say in between kisses, wrapping your legs around his waist. “So—” the loud smack of your lips against his cheek raises a lovely chorus of giggles from the both of you. “—so much! But how?”

Bucky understands. “Caught the guy earlier than expected. Got back at the compound, took a shower—”

“And you didn’t text me, asshole!”

“Aw,” he drawls in a pitch, teasing your ribs with feather-like caresses. “I’m sorry baby. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

He seals his promise with a kiss, not wasting any time in slipping his tongue along the seams of your lips; you grant him access, swirling his tongue with yours. You moan and, without even realizing what you’re doing, slant your hips up, arching yourself into his touch. His hands slide down your body, memorizing every detail of your curves while continuing the dirty, sensual kiss; you then feel the half-hard bulge grinding steadily against your core, but you nor Bucky comment on it.

He’s the first one to pull back. Bucky doesn’t say a word, and so neither do you, just taking in each breath that leaves his lungs through an exhale, every inch of muscle that rests and moves against yours, and suddenly it feels like you can actually sleep now.

“Pretty girl,” he murmurs, using the tip of his pointer finger to trace the circles under your eye. “Having trouble sleeping again?”

“I always do when you’re gone,” you mumble back, closing your eyes since he mentioned it.

He starts to move but you latch onto him before he can fully sit himself up, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying his face in your neck.

“Baby,” he giggles, moving his hands to your hips.

“I still have to welcome you home, soldier,” you purr and run your fingers through his soft, short hair.

You grind back at his still hips, grinning goofily at the sigh that escapes his lips. “C’mon, I want to.” Another slow grind, harder than before. “I wanna feel that thick cock fill me up so good, been too long, daddy.”

The breath hitches audibly in his throat, his eyes growing dark and glazed. “You sure?” He asks, because he’s the perfect gentleman as always. “It looks like you can barely keep your eyes open, sweetheart.”

“Not uh.” To prove your point, you open your eyes as wide as they can go. Bucky laughs with a shake of his head that tells you, ‘I love you, you fucking goofball’.

You lean up to catch his slightly chapped lips, and reach down to pull your shorts and panties off; Bucky breaks the kiss to look, groaning at the sight of your glistening pussy. You palm him through the thin fabric of his boxers, giving him a light squeeze.

He buckles against your hand. “Fuck,” he hisses, then chuckles. “It really has been too long.”

“So,” you quickly slip your shirt over your head, reveling in the way his eyes immediately latch on your breasts. “Fuck me.”

Bucky finally gives in with a moan, bumping his forehead against yours for a rushed but heated kiss that leaves goosebumps on your skin. You waste no time in pulling his boxers down, licking your lips at the sight of his twitching cock.

“Oof!”

His entire weight topples on you in his haste to pull his shirt off, crushing the air out of your lungs; he mumbles an unintelligent apology against your open mouth.

Metal rests against the slope of your ass as the other lines himself at your entrance, looking in your eyes for your approval. You nod, too excited and trembling with anticipation. His lips are once again back on yours, the bulbous tip of him nudging through your folds and circling your clit, teasing you with a knowing smirk as you kiss.

Before you can scold him he pushes in, stretching you slowly to the brim until his balls rest at the slope of your backside; it’s a little painful, but the burn is a bonus to the increasing pleasure you feel by him just being inside you.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp through gritted teeth, clutching his biceps with a tight grip. He answers with a nip to your breast, circling his tongue around the perk nipple before completely latching his mouth onto the sensitive mold; his teeth lightly scrapes you, making your body jolt and pussy flutter around him—shit, it really has been too long for the both of you.

You tighten your legs around him, enveloping yourself in his heat, not wanting to bear the coldness that plagued you in his absence.

“Good?” He croaks from your chest, already sounding breathless.

“Please.”

He settles himself more comfortably between your legs and pulls back until only the tip is inside, plunging back in with a hard, punctuated thrust that heaves your body upwards. A choked sigh scrapes your throat, your hands splayed out on his back, feeling every muscle continue to move and slither; chaste kisses litter your neck with every thrust, hard and steady and deep.

“Buck.”

“I know,” he says. His metal hand cups your cheek, holding your gaze—you’re doing your best to keep your eyes open, but you don’t know how much longer that’ll last. “You feel so good, princess. So good, so fucking good.”

You lift your hips to meet his, feeling the coil in your lower stomach building and tightening and getting hotter and hotter—

“Fuck Bucky right there!” You moan wantonly, shifting your body so he can hit your sweet spot again.

“I got ya,” he rubs your back before pushing your lower half up so he can keep you exactly where he wants you, not once breaking the rhythm you can now so easily create.

His cock continues to bring you undeniable euphoria, scratching against every little itch you have and angling his pelvis so that it grinds against your aching clit, giving you the extra stimulation you need. He kisses you until you have no more air to give, nips and bites at you until there’s marks, caresses your body with a touch only a lover can understand, fucks you so right and smooth that you can feel every vein and ridge of his cock; thank fuck he’s home.

His hips move a little faster, no doubt starting to feel the edge of his climax. As if to prove your point, his hand—the one that was one your cheek—reaches up to grip the top of the headboard, using the pull to push himself somehow deeper into you; like he’s trying to crawl into your body and take shelter where he knows he’s safe.

“Y-yeah, shit B-Buck keep going!” You stammer in between thrusts. Your pussy flutters harder around him, making him squeeze his eyes tightly shut and curse under his breath.

“Me too, pretty girl,” he growls, looking down at you like you’re the most beautiful piece of art he’s ever seen, and in his eyes you are. “Gonna cum with me?” Your cunt clenches around him. “Goddamn baby—” (holyfuckingshit the way he just whimpered has your entire back arching and more juices gushing from your core). “—forgot how tight you are.”

It’s too much now, the friction heating your entire core until it feels like your whole body is on fire, about to implode at any second. Your moans and whimpers spur him on even more, now slamming his hips until the sound of skin against skin—and the sloshes of his dick pounding into you—echoes loudly in the room.

“Bucky I’m gonna come.”

“I feel you,” he grunts. “Come around my cock, babygirl. C’mon, I wanna feel it, sweet girl.”

Your legs tremble and shake as your orgasm approaches you, clouding your mind with a fog and filling your vision with white; you’re so lost in the spasm of your pussy, the thumb now rubbing your clit in tight circles, and the growls and whimpers that he’s doing nothing to hide, that when your cunt squeezes him like a vice, the scream that follows does no shame to the gruff grunts and groans lapping with your vocals.

Bucky fucks you through your orgasm, your sensitive pussy continuing to flutter around him. It’s like you’re being shocked by bolts with the way your body spasms beneath him, taking everything he’s giving you and more until you’re nothing but a puddle at his bidding; every nerve feels shot and abused, but it’s not complete until he fills you up.

“Christ doll I’m coming,” he growls from his chest, sending shivers through you. You clench your pussy around him and… and he gasps like you just punched him in the gut and suddenly hot spurts of cum fill your pussy in thick, hot ropes.

With one final, hard thrust he collapses on top of you. The air is thick and slick with the air of sex, skin glistening in the soft light of the tv that’s still playing the same cartoon. His chest rises and falls with yours as you catch your breaths, holding each other.

Bucky is usually the first to recover. He raises his head and gives you a tired, goofy smile before kissing you; he uses the distraction to carefully pull out of you, the chill of the air brushing against the combined juices covering your pussy and inner thighs. You grumble with a scrunch to your eyebrows that makes him giggle.

“Hang on.”

He gets out of the bed with a heavy sigh that comes with age—you like to tease him about it every now and then—and flicks the light to the bathroom on, leaving the door ajar. The sound of running water is faint to your ears, the exhaustion of the week settling in on you heavily. The rattles from the bathroom fade with the stress, into comfortable white noise...

The cold, wet cloth makes you jump with a whine (did you actually fall asleep for a minute there?). Bucky shushes you gently from where he sits, gently cleaning you up before throwing the washcloth towards the corner of the room—yes, his corner.

Your arms blindly reach for him, your eyes still closed. You hear him turn the tv off and shuffle around until the covers are being pulled back and he slides in, making sure you’re both completely covered. He crawls into your embrace, laying his head in the crook of your neck and tangling his legs with yours.

“I love you,” you whisper groggily.

“I love you, too,” he says back with ease.

A few moments of silence pass, and just before you reach the land of dreams, one silly little thought brings you back.

“Bucky?”

A minute.

“What?”

“Welcome home.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagines #fanfic

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spiltscribbles · 4 years ago

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Any chance you could give us some Arabic speaking Remus headcanons? Loved your latest fic ❤️ 📚

OMFG gorgeous sugarplum! I legit only just was reminded of this while scrolling through my inbox right now! But my heart is finna burst!!! Thank you SO SO much and yes I would love to give some Headcanons about this! Especially since the next long story I’m working on includes this dynamic, and I’m so excited about it!! However, common disclaimer that while I am Arab and culturally Muslim even if I don’t practice like the rest of my family lol, I am Palestinian and not Syrian. So with every identity there are different experiences and customs no matter how closely intertwined. So I apologize for any inconsistency that a Syrian may read and disagree with, and please feel free to correct me<3 <3

The FIC this HC is from

So first off some background on his mum in the story

I chose the name Vivian based off a friend of a friend who’s uncle married a woman by that name back in Palestine, so it’s definitely extremely uncommon, but a fully Arab lady was named it, so like it’s my defense bahaha. But it also means lively, and coupled with Hussein as her maiden name which means beautiful, it just fit her personality to a t!!

She was born into a pretty secular family in Syria in the late 1920s, so there was a lot going on in that time period. But her dad was pretty influential, working in the government and such. Vivian was also the youngest of four girls and three boys so she was pretty spoiled tbh

She attended a boarding school in France through out her adolescence and decided to go to university there too, so she’s fluent in both Arabic and French, with pretty great English as well. Though she wasn’t exactly white passing, even though like a bunch of Syrians/Palestinians/Lebanese folk she was somewhat fair, she had distinctly Arabian features, like the large almond shaped eyes and thick lashes and thicker brows, and a long, largeish nose, accented by full lips. So she experienced a good amount of jeers and discrimination, especially when folks found out her surname. So I think she’s able to relate to Remus in that sense of being a wolf at least, and later on when he comes out as gay.

It was 1950 when she and a few of her girlfriends went to Wales for holiday after completing university. The second Lyall first spotted her in the woods while she was trying to make it back to the cabin near the Irish Sea with her mates, it was something like love, because duh. She was a fucking knock out!! A babe and a baddy! Literally so far out of his league its ridiculous! But on Vivian’s side, she was mostly just amused and a bit enamored by this cocksure Welshman who had the most endearing of crooked smiles that their son would inherit a decade later. So obviously she didn’t make it easy on him, but eventually she let him take her out on the last night of her trip, and was pleased to find out that they had the same sort of humor and the same passion for their careers and even the same love for the outdoors too.

They had a long distance relationship for two years while she went to grad school so she could teach about classics while Lyall himself was rising the ranks in the Ministry for regulation and control of magical creatures— Unbeknownst to her, the Floo network was very helpful with the distance. Just thank God Lyall himself is a Muggle born because he really had to fake the hell out of it lol.

So just to speed things up they got married on a lovely June evening in 1955, subsequent to Vivian excepting a professorial job in Cardiff after Lyall told her about the Wizarding world. At first Vivian thought e was tripping on some subpar edibles until he proved it by transfiguring her snuff box into a lovely broach that she kept for the rest of her life, So after Vivian was convinced, she became absolutely enthralled by all of the magic so completely.

They were trying for a few years when she finally became pregnant with Remus in 1959, and they were both so over the moon (pun unintended).

So like I said above, Vivian’s family are pretty secular, so I see her mostly practicing the cultural aspects of Islam. For example, every Friday— which is the equivalent to Sundays being the holy day for Christians— she lights up the instance that she always keeps herself stocked up on after her annual trip to Syria, instead of the typical candles she ordinarily prefers. And Remus swears that for the rest of his life whenever he smells it, he’s back to being a baby, puttering around the house and watching her dusting the shelves while humming quietly an Arabic song that’ played out the gramophone by a man who’s music would soon become regarded as the song of the people. Or Remus would recall being snuggled into her lap while she read him a novel on the windowsill. Or he’d simply remember listening to his parents laughter fluttering in the air while he fell asleep by the fire, subconsciously making the flower buds closest to him bloom with his untapped magic.

Remus’s first clear memory— thanks to the endless pictures— is when he was around four years old, before the attack, and they were staying in Vivian’s home town in Damascus. While the men congregated out doors for cigars and cards and the women in the living room chatting while snacking on watermelon seeds, his older cousins— who were all girls— dragged him off to one of the bedrooms and doted on him because he was the baby of that side of the family. And he remembers walking out in a set of one of their heels and a headscarf wrapped around his head which made his Mama and Tata and Aumties laugh out loud and croon over him, and all his uncles and Sido call him Aumty Remus.

The attack by Greyback happened soon after they returned to Wales, and I’m not gonna touch on it becs I’ not finna depress myself. But it was a January morning after his first transformation and he remembers that when he woke up, he saw the cookies stuffed with dates resting on his bedside with a glass of milk that Lyall had put a cooling charm on. And they’re indulgent treats that Vivian makes for both Eids every year even though they don’t celebrate them in any other way lol. But the cookies always reminds him of family and of feeling safe in his mother’s arms, and they still work to make him feel better even after the worst thing he has ever experienced in his short life.

Remus’s love of poetry came from both sides of his parents, but it was listening to his mother recite the story of Majnun Layla in it’s original Arabic that really made him glow for the art form, and brought him to discovering his favorites like Auden and Neruda.

There’s a ornate, wooden prayer box that has been past down on the Hussein side of the family for five generations, it was originally meant to hold a Qran but for the past three it’s simply just been a beautiful piece of decoration. So when Vivian gave it to Remus when he was headed off to Hogwarts, little Remus asked McGonagall to help him with locking charms so it could become a safe place for him to keep his most cherished of nicknacks ant momentos, so obviously, she silently added a charm to keep the wood nearly unbreakable and the extension charm atop of that, like Hermione with her bag, so that he could keep as many happy memories as possible inside of it, and she prayed that there would be so many that it threatened to burst.

The last time Remus opened the box was in 1996, when he was putting away the ring Sirius gifted him as a match to his own in some feeble promise of forever only weeks before James and Lily’s own engagement.

Once during first year, he and the lads were staying up late, trading stories about how they got their most ridiculous scars— after seeing the one that scraped across Remus’s left shoulder blade— But it got to a point where they were all feeling a bit nippish, so they went down to the kitchens for some of the chocolate pudding that was served during dinner that night. And Remus idly asked the house elves if they could make him a batch of Kinafa because he was getting home sick and missed when he and his Mama would dash over to the city whenever they were feeling antsy, and she’d take him to their favorite hooka bar after buying a round of the dessert— which is basically sweetbread stuffed with cheese— from down the block. And they’d stay sitting beneath the starlight, and talking about her job and his lessons from school while she’d let him try a discrete puff or two and they’d laugh about everything and nothing at all.

The next time they stopped by the kitchens one of the younger house elves presented him with the snack gleefully, and it tasted fine, just not like how they do back home. So Remus smiled warmly at Tipsy, the house elf, and thanked her with real sincerity.

But his face must’ve betrayed him because after easter break, Sirius plops down a fresh batch of them on Remus’s bed before leaping into his own, casually mentioning that he saw how grossed out Remus looked when trying the one the house elves made, and it was from a restaurant close to Grimmauld so it’s not that big of a deal, and then he rushed to cursing at James for stealing his favorite pen and swearing that if he broke it he’s gonna have hell to pay. Remus had only blushed and chuckled with a small smile on his face when he cut himself a small piece and finished the half sheet off with the rest of their house later that night during an impromptu party that the Marauders would become infamous for in later years.

It was the summer after second year when all the marauders visited Remus back home in Wales and when they heard Vivian call him Qamar practically every other sentence, which of course lead to endless ribbing and eventually to his nickname of Moony— even though it’s so fucking obvious and Remus loves and hates it in equal parts. God his friends are so fucking stress inducing!

Remus teaches the other marauders funny Arabic curse words and they use them in class so that they can talk shit about particularly disgusting Slytherins without them being any of the wiser. (Yes I did do this with my friends, and I’d do it again! POW! POW! POW!)

It’s from Vivian that Remus has an affinity for coffee as strong as shit, but also prefers his tea weak— specifically two sugars and a dash of milk. But seriously, if you’ve ever tried Arabian coffee you’d understand, that shit is so fucking strong it’s literally a hate crime LMFAO. But yeah, this habit is definitely a point of contention between him and Sirius— who’s actually so fucking posh no matter how much he wants to be punk, and he stands by only drinking black tea— like Merlin intended— and saying bugger off to any and all coffees. “Leave that shite to the French and Americans.” And Remus would try to keep himself from making eyes at him from across the table, because God Sirius is hot when he’s all fiery and impassioned, even when it’s about the dumbest, most inconsequential shit.

Something that’s sort of funny is that Remus was the first among them to become a fucking pot head and could drink them all under the table even though Sirius himself has got two stone and three inches on him. But Remus still refuses to eat ham, purely because he never grew up eating it and doesn’t care too now. Sirius had to specifically ask Euphemia and Monty to make turkey for Christmas dinner their sixth year just because he knew that Remus’s head would probably implode with the decision between being rude and not eating it or forcing himself to gag down the unfamiliar meat.

When Remus is really, really fucking drunk he definitely spends the night only speaking in Arabic! (Don’t look at me I’m trash just because I stole this from my own life lmfao) But yeah, it’s really fucking hilarious and Sirius swears to God he’s so fucking in love with him while listening to Remus ranting in the unfamiliar language. And he’s like positive that half the time he’s actually just cursing Sirius out but he doesn’t even care because it’s SO! DAMN! CUTE! And sometimes Sirius decides to speak French at a drunk off his arse Moony, who occasionally replies back in a stiff staccato before returning back to the easy Arabic. And it’s just a mess.

Ok so sadness warning

In my head, Vivian loses her fight against breast cancer the July after the Marauders graduate from Hogwarts, and afterwords Remus gets a tattoo of her name in Arabic on his chest, and the word for soul on the nape of his neck. He locks away that battered copy of Magnun Layla in the wooden box she gave him years ago, along with a woolen scarf that smelt like her perfume.

It’s Sirius who buys a set of prayer beads to hang off her photo above the mantel in the flat he and Remus share, and when Remus sees it he literally feels like he might crack open with tears, but opts to kiss Sirius thank you instead, and they stay tangled on the sofa for the rest of the day in quiet contemplation.

One night, in late 1979, while the war was only getting worse and worse— Sirius was hit by a cutting curse to the ribs. And it was really fucking bad, but thankfully James got him to his house in time for Lily to help and heal. He slept for the most part for nearly an entire day, but remembers snippets. Like when Remus had sprinted into the room with fear painted all over his soft features, and when James put a cooling cloth to his head. But most distinctly, Sirius recalls Remus gingerly lying besides him and Sirius talking gibberish at his boyfriend while Remus plunged his entire face against his back, eyes wet with tears and body shuttering as he squeezed him softly, saying something quietly in Arabic. Sirius obviously didn’t understand like 99.9% of it, but he did catch the word “Habibi,” which he instantly remembers as an old pet name Vivian use to call Remus with so much love it made her entire countenance sparkle. It’s an endearment that means beloved, or darling, and it feels like Remus is begging Sirius to stay with him and Sirius’s throat is still raw from the screaming, so he can only reply by dragging Remus’s hand up to his mouth and kissing his knuckles tenderly. And he knows that whatever he does for the rest of his days, he loves Remus Lupin with every cell in his body.

Oof this got mad depressing…. Chow anyways, I can add a picture of the container you’re suppose to use for the instance if anyone wants that?

Thank you again dear Nonny!!!

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