#perfect timing for the oscars party photo of jk to come out

[stevebabey]

hi rubes!!! i was curious on ur thoughts on what a lazy sunday with steve would look like? esp if its one that like both ur day off and its smth that hasnt happened in a long time

hi angel!! sorry i sat on this one for awhile, i hope i made up for it by making it sooooo lovey dovey <3 0.8k, gn!reader

By some miracle, you're the first awake.

Steve is like a kind of sheep dog— he requires frequent exercise and so, he usually slips a run in the morning before you're even close to awake.

And also because of the shaggy hair and the way he seems to wag an invisible tail when all his favourite people are gathered in the same room, even going around and rounding them up, checking on everyone— Okay, you get the point, analogy over.

Actually, point is, you getting up before Steve like never happens.

Scratch that, you and Steve getting a day off to sleep in on the same day never happens. And even more, Steve very rarely skips his morning run because, y'know, sheep dog and all.

Basically, you figure this whole morning is a wondrous crafted little miracle. You have no plans to waste it.

Peering across your pillow, you watch the rise and fall of Steve's chest as he sleeps, your softened gaze roaming over his face gently. He looks younger in his sleep, pillowy lips parted lightly. His moles beg to be kissed. His hair is a mess. It's lost all its volume, lying flat against the pillow and urging you to run your fingers through it.

You ignore the urge in favor of slipping out from under the comforter. quiet as you can.

Steve's annoyingly good at spoiling you and is less than receptive to letting you return the sentiment. With one last glance back at bed, you let out a soft sigh, a honeyed noise, and head to the kitchen.

Steve's favourite mug is this wonky one that Dustin made once upon a time, some pottery class at one of his camps. You stare at it, glazed eyes taking in an alarmingly amount of detail on the cup, as the coffee brews behind you. Its scent wafts through the room. You've woken a dozen times to it, when it's Steve up and about, fixing a beverage for you.

It's cute, you think, that he still uses Dustin's mug for his coffee. By cute you mean, you can't think about it for too long or you'll stamp back down to the bedroom and kiss your boyfriend til your lips are blue and—

"Ooh, coffee?" Steve announces his presence with his words, partially garbled by his loud yawn. He halfheartedly covers his mouth, the hoodie he's haphazardly chucked on misaligned enough that it hangs over his hand adorably. He shuffles into the kitchen tiredly and despite his introduction, he heads right to you.

You can't resist a pout. Steve takes a moment to notice it, too happily distracted sidling up and worming his arms around your middle.

When he does, he tilts his head to the side. "What?"

"You couldn't let me bring it to you in bed?"

He grins. "I'm sorry. Was that the plan?"

"You know it was." You mumble grouchily, not upset at all. You push a hand into his chest, giving him a little shove. "You're always doin' this stuff for me but you don't ever let me do it for you."

Steve softens unbearably, his grin getting all gooey at the sides. He looks a little lovestruck, messy hair and all. It takes immense will to continue your upset facade. You nudge his chest again, your head inclining towards the bedroom.

"What?" His eyebrows jump, expression a mixture of incredulity and affectionate. "Y'want me to get back in bed? So you can come bring it to me?"

You smile, nudging his chest again and grinning when he starts to take a couple steps back, heading towards the bedroom. "Yes. Exactly that."

"You're absurd."

You poke your tongue out him. "You love it."

Steve moves forward abruptly, his hands cradling your face gently as he leans and steals a kiss from you. He retracts just as fast, looking far too pleased with himself.

"Yes, I do," He agrees, still wandering backwards. He disappears into your bedroom and you're left standing there with your own lovesick grin. God, you love him. Your heart feels like spun sugar in your chest, airy and sweet beyond relief.

To which Steve is no help at all when you walk into the bedroom, carefully holding the mug so it doesn’t spill. He's tucked back in bed, pretending to be asleep, only to wake with the grace of a Disney princess at your footsteps.

He faux yawns and pretends to jump at your presence, scampering to sit up in bed so he can accept the coffee from you. "Oh wow, what a surprise this is!"

"Shut up. You think you're soo funny, huh?" you mumble, handing the coffee over. Your aching smile gives away just how funny you think he is.

"Mmhm," Steve hums as he takes a sip. You've made it just the way he likes it. He parrots your earlier words. "You love it."

You lean in, mindful of the mug, and kiss him sweetly. He tastes of coffee and cream and he chases your lips for a second kiss when you pull back. You aim for tiredly amused but the words come out devastatingly sincere anyway. "Yeah, I do."

[hamilficsfordays]

Power Couple (Lin/Reader)

Prompt: Hello can I have a imagine where Lin is my husband and I’m a famous screenwriter and I win my 10th Oscar for it and he is really proud of me!

Author’s Note: I have every intention of winning plenty of Academy Awards of my own one day (both for acting and screenwriting) so I’ve done a bit of research as to what goes on. I tried to be as accurate as possible. If you’re unaware, like Y/N stands for “your name”, L/N stands for “last name”.

Pairing: Lin-Manuel Miranda/Reader

Summary: It’s time for the Academy Awards and you’re nominated for what might be your tenth academy award for Best Original Screenplay. Your husband Lin is right beside you, nominated as well. Win or lose, it’s going to be a fun night.

Rating: PG I guess for drinking

Warnings: ARE YOU AFRAID OF SUCCESS? (nah jk no warnings)

Words: 1988

Askbox / Masterlist / What I Write

You stepped out of the limo in a red gown, the door already held open for you. 

There were cheers as you arrived from the fans behind the barricades on the sidewalk.

“Are you ready?” you heard Lin ask as he closed the door behind you.

“Tenth time’s the charm.” you quipped, grabbing his hand. “Let’s go.”

Your publicist led you both forward onto the red carpet. There was a frenzy of camera flashes as you both stepped up, people screaming your name and asking you to face them. You felt more comfortable posing beside your husband than you ever had felt posing alone, which made you grateful that you had both been nominated this year. He kissed your forehead, causing another wave of camera flashes and an uproar from the press on the other side of the barricade.

After a few more minutes of photos, you were lead forward to complete a few interviews before heading inside. They separated you and Lin for the moment, pulling you into an interview with Entertainment Weekly.

“Y/N, so nice to see you! You look beautiful tonight!”

“Thank you.” With the lights shining at you, you could barely make out the face of the female reporter who had a microphone in your face. Still, you put on your brightest smile.

“How excited are you for tonight? You’re nominated for your original screenplay of Distance, which is also nominated for best picture. Now I know you’ve spent so long working on this project, and I’m sure you’re excited to see it being honored at such a prestigious level.”

“Of course. This was such an incredible project to work on and seeing it come to life was such an awe-inspiring experience. I’m honored to have worked with such an incredible cast and crew to bring this project to light.”

“If you win tonight, this will be your tenth oscar for an original screenplay. You already hold the record for most academy awards won by a woman, are you excited to break the record again?”

You nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Nothing in life is promised, so it’s just exciting to be here and be in the same category as so many other talented individuals.”

You publicist signaled the interviewer, letting her know that she had one question left.

“What was it like at home for you the day you found out that you and Lin-Manuel Miranda, your husband, were both nominated for an award this year?” “We were both kind of surprised to be nominated at the same time, but definitely happy for one another. He’s an incredibly talented man and it makes perfect sense that he would be here.”

“Thanks for talking with us. Have a good time, and good luck tonight!”

You took your publicists’ hand as she carefully led you out of the spotlights.

“You did great. Now just do that about ten more times like we rehearsed.”

You took in a breath. Lin, in the middle of his own interview, turned to smile at you before answering a question.

While being a nominated for an Academy Award was nothing new to you, it didn’t change the fact that the awards show itself was pretty overwhelming.

After another group of interviews you finally headed inside to your reserved seat near the front. Lin joined you shortly after, sitting beside you.

You were greeted by a few familiar faces, big names whom you’d come to know over the years. As everyone took their seats, Lin expressed his confidence in you.

“What should we do to celebrate Oscar number ten?” he was whispering in your ear, intent to keep the conversation between the two of you.

“Stop.” you smiled, softly elbowing him in the ribs. “Maybe you should focus on you winning number five.”

“Fifth is okay, but this isn’t just any award. This is your tenth academy award. Those are Meryl Streep numbers. Except you’ve actually won more times than she has.”

“If I win, which is not guaranteed, we can sleep in tomorrow. If you win, we can start re-watching The West Wing again.”

“What if we both win?”

“If we both win, we’re getting drunk on whatever drink that they’re only serving to the winners and making out in the trophy engraving room at the governor’s ball.”

He laughed. “I’m already looking forward to that, but we should get a head start onstage since I’m presenting your award.”

You rolled your eyes. “So not happening.”

The host came out a few minutes later, doing an opening musical number before proceeding into the awards.

After about five rounds and a few commercial breaks, the presenters for the award for Best Original Song came out. You squeezed Lin’s hand supportively, holding your breath as they listed the nominees.

“… and the award for Best Original Song goes to…” the presented opened the envelope, pulling out the card with the winner’s name on it. “Lin-Manuel Miranda!”

The crowd was cheering as you both stood up. It was his fifth award for Best Original Song. You hugged, congratulating him as he moved past you to head toward the stage.

They handed him the award and he promptly shook hands with each of the presenters before making his way to the podium.

“This is such an honor.” he started. “I’m so incredibly humbled to be standing here before you receiving this award. I’d be lying if I said I could’ve done this without my incredible wife, Y/N.”

There was a camera nearby on you, showing your proud reaction as Lin was speaking.

“She makes every day of my life a blessing, pushing me to go above and beyond my best. She’s also a way better writer than me.”

The audience laughed. You smirked at him from your seat in the third row knowing he could very well see it.

Once he’d finished his speech, he headed backstage to talk to the press, leaving you alone to sit beside his family until your category was called.

After a few more award and commercial breaks, Lin came back onstage alongside Viola Davis, preparing to present the award for Best Original Screenplay.

They took turns reading through each nomination before it came to announce the winner.

“…and the award for Best Original Screenplay goes to…” Lin pulled the card out of the envelope, attempting to hide his excitement. “Y/N L/N!”

The audience cheered as you stood up, hugging Lin’s parents before heading to the stage. You hugged Viola before turning to Lin, who kissed you onstage in front of everyone.

“Can’t wait to make out with you at the governor’s ball.” he teased as one of the award presenters handed you your oscar.

“I really hope the mic didn’t pick up what my husband just told me.” you started, receiving a laugh from the crowd.

“Wow um, where do I start? Distance was one of the most incredible films that I’ve had the pleasure of working on. I feel as though it was a story that needed to be told in today’s society, where so many people of color still face systematic racism and oppression every single day. I could not have been more humbled to see the amazing cast and crew bring this story to life.” You thanked some of the cast and crew, stating what a privilege it was to work with them. There was a small applause.

“I would be foolish not to thank my husband Lin, mostly because he’s standing about seven feet to my right…”

Another laugh from the crowd, Lin smiling from the other end of the stage.

“I would never be at this point in my career without his love, support, and compassion. He makes me a better writer because he never accepts anything less than my best work. I owe him everything to be standing here right now.”

From your peripheral vision, you could see Lin was wiping away tears as you finished your speech.

When you headed off-stage, he had his arm around you.

Just before you stepped into the press room he pulled you into his hug.

“I’m so proud of you, Y/N. You did such amazing work. You deserve this so much.”

“We both did.” you reminded him. “Let’s be honest, this was a killer night for both of us.”

You pulled back from the hug only to high-five him.

“Alright, go in there. I’ll be here when you get back.”

You headed into the press room, a frenzy of photos and people shouting, asking questions. The person running the press room managed to get everyone to quiet down, asking questions one-on-one. You answered gracefully, putting on your best smile.

When it was over, you both headed back to your seats for the end of the show.

 Your movie had won best picture, prompting you to go onstage once again with the cast and crew as the producers gave an acceptance speech.

When it was over, there was another moment on the red carpet where you and the other winners were expected to pose with your awards before heading to the after party.

The governor’s ball was a formal, prestigious event every year. The food, drinks, and decorations were always of the highest quality, and the nominees and winners were scattered about, socializing with one another.

You’d been to nine governor’s ball’s before that one, leaving plenty of room for comparison as you stepped inside.

“I was kind of a fan of the food back in two-thousand and ten.” Sitting down to dinner, you, Lin and his parents were some of the few patrons at one of the many tables. “Since then, they haven’t really matched the quality.”

“I thought you said it was twenty-eleven? Isn’t that when they had that lamb you really liked?” Lin asked.

“Oh it was twenty-eleven. Shit, these start to blend together after a while.” you paused. “Oh god, do I sound like I’m bragging right now?”

“A tiny bit,” he confessed. “I mean, you’re kind of right, though. I’ve only been to half as many, but I can’t remember if that waiter spilling food all over Scarlett Johansson happened two or three years ago.”

“God, we sound like such assholes.”

“They wouldn’t keep giving us awards if we weren’t any good.” he pointed out. “Just keep your smile humble and everyone else will politely ignore that you’ve won ten times.”

After dinner, hand in hand with your husband, you headed to the trophy engraving room with your awards, handing them off to the engraver while you waited beside one another.

You were both offered a drink, a rare champagne that was only given to award winners. Knowing your intentions for the evening, you drank the glass rather quickly, already asking for another. Lin had done the same.

After several glasses, your promise was kept. You were off to the far end of the room with your husband, drunkenly making out with your husband. You were happier than you’d ever felt—which said a lot since you were genuinely pretty happy.

The engraver politely cleared his throat, catching your attention when he’d completed work on the both of your awards.

“Oh, thanks.” You took yours and handed Lin his.

“Should we go back out there?” he offered.

“Let’s go home,” you suggested instead. “We’ve been to enough of these. I’d much rather spend time with you.”

He smiled. “You’re right, that sounds way better.”