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#they were so good I had to have two servings in one night 🥺

ham1lton · 2 months

Text

my favourite interviewer.

pairings: lando norris x fellow driver’s sister/reader

warnings: jokes about adoption. mentions of bigotry but in reference to o/s’s experiences.

summary: the one where you interview your sister and your boyfriend. also part of the nepo!sister universe.

author’s note: i love nepo!sis/y/n. expect to see her more. also these interviews are quite short so imagine they’re longer and these are snippets. y/n is a better interviewer than i made her out to be 😔💔

liked by vogue, yourusername and 1,827,668 others.

oldersister: check out my photoshoot for vogue! and my following interview with my younger sister yourusername. it was definitely… interesting. link in bio <3.

user1: my favourite sisters made another appearance again!!

yourusername: DON’T! work with o/s! such a DIVA! rude as hell…..

-> oldersister: is this because i said pink wasn’t your colour?

-> yourusername: ALL COLOURS ARE MY COLOUR !! 😡

user2: y/n is so funny throughout this entire interview. a natural comedian.

user5: o/s saying that people don’t take her seriously as a driver is crazy!! she’s a two time champion!! what more does she need to do?

-> user6: it’s nothing that she needs to do. there really isn’t anything she can do to change their minds. it’s bigotry.

user3: o/s is so pretty. full time f1 driver and part-time model.

-> user4: one thing about her, lewis and zhou is that they’re all gonna serve looks and face. holy trinity.

liked by yourusername, gq and 1,223,378 others.

landonorris: thank u gq for letting me cover ur magazine and thank u to my gorgeous interviewer for taking the time out of her day to interview me. btw… are you single 😍

user5: this was so cute!! i love their dynamic.

yourusername: no i’m not single. i have a bf. be professional please.

-> landonorris: ain’t nobody care about him queen. i bet you i could beat his ass 😍

-> user1: i wish i had this confidence.

-> landonorris: leave me alone 😭😭🖕🏼

-> user2: poor lando. getting dragged by his fans, his girlfriend, his girlfriend’s fans and his girlfriend’s sister’s fans😭😭 rip bro 💔😔

-> yourusername: he’s fine y’all. please don’t call paw patrol.

user3: lando saying y/n was his favourite person regardless of what she does 🥺🥺

-> user4: when he cussed out y/n for calling herself boring 😭 he said that’s my gf don’t be disrespectful.

user7: y/n finessing a free lunch and dinner out of her boyfriend and her sister was my favourite part. yass queen 😍 take from the rich.

*liked by yourusername*

————————————————————————

MY NIGHT WITH O/S L/N.

by y/n l/n.

It’s the end of O/S’s Vogue’s shoot. She’s dressed in a black form-fitting silk suit with a pair of pale pink heels. I always knew that my sister was famous but seeing her in the middle of such magnitude truly reinforces that she is not just my older sister anymore. She’s bigger than that. We decide to duck behind the busy shoot into a side room to start our interview.

THURSDAY, PARIS, 11:34PM.

Y/N: Did you expect that I’d be the one interviewing you?

O/S L/N: Honestly? No! I’m happy though to see a familiar face. Pleasant surprise.

Y/N: I’m not gonna hold back on the questions though just because you’re my sister. I need you to know that.

O/S: Wouldn’t expect you to.

Y/N: Just for the record, she’s wearing my lipstick. I told her she’d look cute in it and she refused to listen to me.

O/S: I didn’t expect it to look so cute on me. I don’t wear super bright lipsticks, it’s a orangey-red shade for the people who can’t see it. I got the makeup team to source it for me and tried it on and perhaps… you were right. It’s grown on me.

Y/N: I’m always right.

O/S: Always is an understatement but … you have your moments.

Y/N: So, what would you say it’s like being the only female F1 driver?

O/S: A very unique position to be in. I’m lucky to have such a good support system in place. Y’know? Mom, Dad, my team and you.

Y/N: It’s a lot of pressure isn’t it?

O/S: Yes. As any high profile job is.

Y/N: How do you find the pressure when it comes to being a role model for younger girls?

O/S: It’s a responsibility I take very seriously. I think it’s so important to encourage young children, especially girls, to follow their dreams and help to provide avenues to make them accessible. I would love to see younger generations of drivers that come from a diverse array of backgrounds be in Formula One.

Y/N: Remember when you were younger and you’d go go-karting?

O/S: Yes.

Y/N: Dad would always make me come and watch you. It was so boring but he’d always get us ice cream afterwards if you’d won. That’s why I always rooted for you.

O/S: Says it all really.

Y/N: I was always a tennis fan. Maybe a little basketball or football. Dad used to joke that maybe you were the adopted one because no one else in the family knew about motorsports before you.

O/S: He still does! I found out about F1 at my school library at the age of like nine and begged Dad to take me. I’m very lucky that not only did we have the funds at the time but parents that supported us. He used to drive me everywhere. He still does drive me to the Grand Prix sometimes.

Y/N: Funny how little traditions stick with us, huh? Remember when you started making real money and would take us out for dinner after every win?

O/S: I was so excited that I had the money to treat you all.

Y/N: Definitely. What was the biggest challenge you’ve faced so far in your career?

O/S: It’ll sound trivial but… probably being taken seriously.

Y/N: What do you mean by that?

O/S: As a lot of women in male-dominated spaces might face, it’s hard to overcome the biases against my abilities. People said for a long time that I was only here because of diversity quotas.

Y/N: Even when you won?

O/S: Especially when I won. I like to prove people wrong. I’ve spent my whole career doing just that. I just wish it wasn’t so constant and tiring. I’m just doing my job but because of my womanhood and my blackness, it is immediately viewed as political. Overcoming the preconceptions has become a huge part of my journey.

Y/N: That’s annoying as fuck. I’ve seen it first hand too. You’re an incredible driver. I know I joke around with you and take the piss out of you but genuinely you do inspire me. I might not be racing cars anytime soon but I’ll always be your biggest fan.

O/S: Thanks Y/N. That means so much to me.

Y/N: Now onto the juicier stories. Who are you dating? For the readers who mightn’t know your personal life, I’ll spell it oit for them.

O/S: Oh No…

Y/N: You started off by dating your childhood sweetheart, Clark Jones, and then dated actor Paul Elordi.

O/S: I did. I am single now, as you’re aware.

Y/N: And she won’t let me set her up with anyone!

O/S: Just because you’re happy in monogamous bliss doesn’t mean the rest of us wanna be.

Y/N: Thanks for letting me interview you today O/S, it was definitely the best part of my day.

O/S: You were very good. I enjoyed the questions. Five stars.

Y/N: Wanna go out to eat? Your treat.

O/S: Of course, let me change into something more comfortable. These heels are gorgeous but they are killing me.

END OF INTERVIEW.

————————————————————————

MY MORNING WITH LANDO NORRIS.

by y/n l/n.

TUESDAY, LONDON, 10:34AM.

I was told to pretend to be professional and that I didn’t spend the night with my boyfriend so I left the room at around 7am just so that I could knock on the door again later in my interviewer mode. It’s the night after his photoshoot for an energy drink. Lando opens the door in a plain black tee, a hoodie wrapped around his waist and tracksuit bottoms. He isn’t wearing shoes. He lets me in and I sit on the sofa. We start the interview.

Y/N: Good Morning. Should we start the interview?

LANDO NORRIS: I’m ready whenever you are.

Y/N: I told O/S this but just because we know each other, don’t expect me to hold back on the questions. Don’t expect any special treatment just because I am your girlfriend.

LANDO: Wouldn’t dream of it.

Y/N: Alright, let’s get started. How did you feel about yesterday’s photoshoot?

LANDO: Tried something new and I think it turned out well. Got some cool shots. The energy was great and the team was incredible. It was a fun shoot. Couldn’t complain.

Y/N: Do you think you’re a better racer or model?

LANDO: I’d like to say model but I’d have to say racer.

Y/N: I think you could be a model.

LANDO: Even though you’re biased. I’ll accept that.

Y/N: Not biased at all actually. I’m here as Interviewer Y/N, not as your girlfriend Y/N.

LANDO: Wait. Can I flirt with Interviewer Y/N?

Y/N: No.

LANDO: Boooo!

Y/N: Let’s switch gears, what do you like to do when you’re unwinding?

LANDO: Well, Usually I’d say spending time with you but you’re not my girlfriend soo… I’m going to say streaming with my friends and playing video games. Also watching my girlfriend’s favourite reality shows.

Y/N: You’re a Teen Mom UK fan? And a Real Housewives fan? I thought you didn’t to like them.

LANDO: It’s part of the boyfriend playbook. Pretend you’re bored with those sorts of shows but secretly, you’re incredibly into it. I have to keep up with your interests somehow and I picked the most interesting ones.

Y/N: I don’t blame you. Alright, one more question before I go back to being boring girlfriend Y/N and I have to give back this super cool voice recorder.

LANDO: Girlfriend Y/N isn’t boring to me. She’s actually my favourite person. Don’t talk shit about my girl.

Y/N: Fine. She’s not boring. She’s just less of a technophile.

LANDO: I’ll accept that.

Y/N: My last question is what’s your favourite thing about driving for Formula One?

LANDO: Besides the thrill of racing? And the part where I’m living my childhood dream? Definitely the fans. Their support and energy help fuel me on the track. Plus, I get to travel the world while doing what I love. I think that’s the ideal world for a lot of people. I’m very lucky.

Y/N: I couldn’t agree more. Thank you for letting me ask you those questions. Now, time for me to go back to the girlfriend version of me.

LANDO: Don’t sell yourself short. You’re always my favourite person regardless of what version you are.

Y/N: Flattery will get you everywhere, won’t it?

LANDO: Hey! It’s not flattery if it’s the truth.

Y/N: Guess you’re not just a pretty face huh. Don’t worry, I’ll keep our reality television show marathons a secret between me, you and all the millions of GQ magazine readers.

LANDO: You’re an angel. Lunch?

Y/N: Only if you’re paying.

LANDO: Always.

END OF INTERVIEW.

————————————————————————

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celestialprincesse · 3 months

Note

older bf price and his younger spitfire of a girl. always giddy always running around, until it’s night time and she makes a little nest to cuddle up on and sleep in the middle of the bed 🥺 just soft and protective john

John is just like a big bear in my mind!! All cuddly n grumbly n protective and I love him your honour!🫡💕

౨ৎ

John would never have expected to fall for someone like you. God no. A man of his age, his seniority, he needed someone at a similar point in their life as him. That was what he thought. Until he met you. Perhaps, what he really needed was someone to make him feel young again, to bring the energy back into his life and remind him that not everything revolves around paperwork, guns and fighting.

Gaz had introduced the two of you, bringing you to the pub with the guys in order to introduce them to his frequently spoken of best friend, who he'd grown up next door to. He'd told the guys how absolutely distraught you'd been when he'd enlisted, and he'd introduced you to his teammates ever since to allow you the peace of mind of at least knowing that he wasn't alone in his path, and that he was surrounded by good men. He'd wanted you to meet Price most of all - the man who he'd trusted his life with far too many times to count. To Gaz, you were the best gift he could ever think of giving John. The captain had been immediately smitten with you and your quick wit. The intelligence behind your eyes was impossible to miss, and the wickedness of your smile only served to make him want you more.

That was three years ago. Ever since then, you'd hit it off. John had given you everything, and you'd become his everything. You kept him perpetually on his toes with your impossibly quick wit and jokes that made him laugh until his belly ached. Your home was full of love and laughter, and whilst you'd finally found someone who matched your stupid sense of humour, and was more than willing to bankroll all of the hobbies you picked up, John had found someone to show him what life could be if he looked beyond the scope of a gun.

The evenings were always his favourite, coming home from base to be bombarded by a fray of limbs and hair as you ran to fling yourself into him, ever energetic from his presence alone. Long ago he'd called you the energiser bunny, and even now it stuck. "Hey, bun." He'd coo into your hair, and you'd spend the evenings cuddled up together on the couch, or pottering around the kitchen making dinner and drinking wine. For him though, the best part of all of your evenings would come when he'd carry you upstairs to your shared bedroom, dropping you onto the puffy, far too expensive duvet you'd both splurged on and shimmying into bed beside you. You'd stay up for hours chatting away about anything and nothing, curled up safe and so desperately in love with one another until eventually you'd drift off to sleep.

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elexaria · 5 months

Text

i managed to indoctrinate one of my irls into soap mactavish supremacy and she agrees that soap would be a switch.

and its been on my mind how johnny would beg like a dog for pussy, like a good boy 🥺

NSFW — minors dni!!

(brief mention of a mommy kink LOL)

“yer killin’ me here,” johnny grumbles quietly as he watches you dress in front of him. thick, child bearing hips on display for the entire world to see as your hands reach up to mess your freshly curled hair. your quite literal little black dress made you look like a goddess, and it was killing your boyfriend with how hot you looked. “yer gunna be the death o’ me.”

“it’s only for a couple’a hours, johnny.” you coo, reaching down to cup his stubbled jaw in your soft hands, pressing a gentle kiss to the bridge of his nose. he whines, pouting like a lovestruck puppy from where he was sat on the edge of your bed.

it had been a few months since you last had a girl’s night out with your besties, when was the last time you got to let loose and have some fun with them? you loved johnny, but you reckon it’d do you some good to get out the house and let your hair down.

“see you later, babe.” you wave him goodbye, grabbing your keys as you make your way out. still moping around with a face like a slapped arse, john reluctantly lifts his hand to wave goodbye.

“see ye, hen.” he mutters quietly, still pouting.

a few hours pass, and you stumble through the front door with weak legs akin to a newborn fawn. “fuck,” you huff out as your toss your keys into the bowl by the front door, eager to kick off your heels and get out of the god forsaken tight confines of your dress.

the dress that really made the blood of passers by sing as their eyes bore into your cleavage spilling from the cups of the dress. how your thighs seemed to pool out underneath your weight as you sat down, tender skin just dying to be gawked at. it’s like you knew how good you looked.

“johnny—!” you sing aloud, pottering through your small apartment with your heels in hand. “joooohn— you asleep?” you hum, peeking into your bedroom. he wasn’t there.

“hmm. takin’ a dump or somethin’—“ you squint, taking a look over your shoulder to your en suite. nope, he wasn’t in there either.

“fucks sake, john william mactavish, where are you?” you whine out, chucking your shoes and bag down as you begin to attempt to reach around to unzip your dress. frustrated huffs and shouts erupt from your throat at your desperate pawing at the finicky little zip, dying to set yourself free.

“need help?” a voice leers from behind you, almost knocking all the air from your lungs as you squeak with surprise.

“yes—“ you murmur, throwing your head down as you shuffle back towards johnny. it felt like you were standing there for ages, just waiting for him to unzip your dress. confused, you turn around, eyebrows furrowed. “wh— what’s taking you so long?” you pout, cheeks flushed from your night out on the town.

and that’s when you see him, hungrily glaring down at you with those innocent blue puppy dog eyes that serve as a stark contrast to the anticipation that runs through his veins. his breathing is steep, you can hear the faint exhales as he continues to stare right through you. holding onto his thick forearm for support as you drunkenly sway side to side, your eyes widen as you spot it.

a thick, aching throb pressed so harshly against his grey sweatpants.

fuuuuuuck.

and then it all makes sense. his childish whining and pouting, the hesitation to unzip your dress. the poor scotsman is so hard, it’s teetering towards painful. unbeknownst to you, the poor thing was tight fistedly pumping at his furiously red cock, hunched over on the edge of the bed as soon as you left. thinking about how he’d die happily if you let him crawl over broken glass just to lap away at your gorgeous pussy, how he would die a proud man if you just let him worship you the way god intended when he put the two of you on earth as soulmates.

“oh… johnny,” you whisper out, a hand absentmindedly reaching low to gently graze the pads of your fingertips against the cockprint in his joggers. a hushed hiss is sucked through his teeth, his eyes narrowing at your touch. oh, how you relished in how he melted against your touch.

now, that wasn’t to say you didn’t love it when he was furiously rutting into you with his large hands splayed across the small of your waist, his thighs slamming into your voluptuous ass at a maddening pace.

“so… fuckin’… mmh— all mine, yeah? yer all mine, aye? say it, say yer all fuckin’ mine. fuck, lass— need ye to say it—“

“all.. yours— mmh—! fuck, love-“

but there was something about having johnny, your 6ft boyfriend with burly muscles and a thick scottish lilt, on his hands and knees begging for you to fuck him.

and this evening was no different.

with a wicked grin growing on your lips, you can’t help but push yourself onto him. “poor, poor baby. so hard, hmm?” you crooned as you stroke against his erection, his body shivering under your touch. he pouts once more, hands either side of your hips as he feels his cock stirring. your fat tits heave against his lean chest, eyes innocently blinking up at him as though you had no idea why he was so turned on. it’s just a little ol’ dress, after all.

“fuck, hen. yer— fuck,” he barely breathes out, trembling as your small hands press against his hard cock, making him whine even more. it turned him on even more as you grin up at him, knowing how wrapped around your finger he was. he would die for you without hesitation. even more so if he got the chance to fuck you one last time.

“use your big boy words, baby,” you hum, a frown on johnny’s lips as you pull away— leaving his poor cock twitching for more.

“please— let me fuck you— please-“ he chokes out as his hands reach down to squeeze and paw so lazily at the mounds of plump fat that drape so beautifully around your curvaceous body. his pleading is akin to a mantra, repeatedly rolling from his tongue like the most steadfast and devote man kneeled before the altar.

you swat his hands away from your body, chuckling as he winces with a childish pout. oh, this was gonna be fun. almost like clockwork, johnny falls to his knees— his messy head of hair burying against your groin as he presses kisses to your thighs. he can smell how delicious you taste, if only you’d let him lavish your flavours. still, he’s repeatedly begging like a dog for you.

“please, by all that's holy— I need a taste of ye so badly, bonnie lass."

his hands are desperately pawing at the roll of fat at the bottom of your ass, crooked fingers grazing the sensitive skin between your thighs. it makes you tense, feeling that bubbling anticipation that coils in your lower abdomen. you swear you can feel a bead of wetness slowly drip from your cunt already.

“baby,” you breathe out like a confession, your hands reaching down to gently hold his cheeks, thumbs rasping against his stubble like a timeless ritual. his puppy dog eyes are peering right up at you, now pleading wordlessly for you to just give in. to put him out of his misery. that look makes you almost cave in right then and there. how touch starved and desperate he looks on his knees, his fingers still shaking against your delicate skin.

with a nod, you gasp at how quick he is to pull you into his lap, panting like a dog in heat as he practically rips the zipper right off of your dress. you slap his hand, huffing with furrowed eyebrows. “careful! it’s new!” you whine out, splaying your chubby thighs out as you straddle your boyfriend.

like a dance as old as time, you suddenly find yourself bare against johnny, stifling your groans as you’re milking his aching cock with a tight fisted grip. his eyes are focused on your tits, how they jiggle with the maddening pace you’re pumping him with. he’s choking out, breathing in bounds and leaps as you keep on edging him so wonderfully.

“please— fuck, yer gonna—“ he grunts, his knuckles whitened as he grips your fat thighs so tightly, you know it’ll leave dark bruises when you both wake up.

you had a strict no touching rule when it came to his begging. he could look, but he couldn’t touch you.

he could watch at how the blood rushed to your perky nipples, tits swaying and heaving. his eyes could only longingly stare right at your drenched cunt, the dim lighting of your bedroom making your slicked folds all the more appealing to his hungry mouth.

“gunna…. cum—“ he pants out so needily, his hips furiously bucking up to meet your white fisted shafting. and just as you feel the muscles in his cock strain in your hand, churning ropes of cum from his swollen balls— you stop. johnny groans aloud, his lonely cock left twitching angrily.

“fucks sake, lass. please, am fuckin’ beggin’ here—“ he groans once more, head resting against your shoulder as he lazily presses kisses to your neck.

“please.. let me cum, i’ve been so good— waitin’ like a good boy. tried tae wank earlier but it wasnae the same—“

his words are like music to your ears. his fingers creep between your thighs once more, eager to touch you. all the air in your lungs evaporate as his calloused fingertip gently swipes against your swollen clit, your hands raking through his mohawk with a tightened grip. “fuck, johnny—“ you sigh out, allowing him to touch you after so long. “such’a… good— good boy for me—“

“aye. please, i need tae fuck ye so badly, lass. please— need ye to ride me—“ johnny sighs out, his aching member throbbing against his abdomen as he lets his fingers dip into your cunt, almost succumbing to an orgasm at the sensation of your thick, warm juices just running so deep inside of you. you needed him just as badly as he needed you, and it was very evident in how you grabbed his wrist, your other hand pushing him onto his back.

how beautiful did johnny sound as you slowly sank down onto his girthy cock, tears in his eyes as your cunt fluttered against his sensitive tip. “oh, fuck— fuck,” he gasps out, his big hands gripping onto your hips as you began to bounce so greedily on him, obscene wet skin slapping against each other echoing around the four walls of your bedroom.

“mommy needed this so badly,” you splutter out, your voice hoarse with pleasure as you let johnny rut up into you, frantically panting like a mad man whilst he reaches to thumb at your clit. “such a good boy, yeah? fuck, gunna—!”

and just like that, johnny growls as he feels your cunt tighten against him. with a loud mewl, you throw your head back as you’re pushed past the precipice of a gut wrenching orgasm— trickles of squirt spreading out over his happy trail as johnny continues to buck his hips up into you.

“gunna cum— oh, fuck—“ he cries out, eyes clenched shut as thick ropes of cum spill up inside of you, a sigh of unbridled relief escaping his lips. oh, it felt so good to finally cum— never mind the fact that he got to cum inside of you. he swore he could see stars as he let you ride out your high on his pulsating shaft, sucking air through his teeth as you both fall silent.

“jesus christ,” johnny groans out after what feels like forever, gently patting your hip with a boyish grin. “i meant what i said, ye know. yer gunna be the death o’ me.” he chuckles, sitting upright as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. with a content sigh, you lean close, allowing him to wrap his arms around you to draw you closer.

“loved yer dress, by the way. couldn’t keep ma hands off’ae ye. hell, couldn’t keep ma hands off maself after ye left.”

what a charmer.

#elexaria writes #soap x reader #cod x reader #soap smut #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap mctavish

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bots-and-cons · 12 days

Note

Ok ok, remaking order

I asked for a headcanon about the prime time reacting to the reader (preferably a woman), who is between 18 and 20 years old and works in a bar, as a bartender, and who sometimes needs to deal with some drunks causing problems (some slightly aggressive)

I forgot there is a character limit for headcanons and that's why I didn't specify which

I would like Optimus and Ratchet.. and if possible, a small exception, Ultra Magnus 🥺

Well that's it, I just didn't specify which characters, sorry about that, thanks for listening, have a nice day/night ❤️

A/N: I didn’t do Magnus since it’s a two character limit per HC request, but I hope this is otherwise okay

~Ratchet~

•There were bars on Cybertron too of course, such as Maccadam’s Old Oil house, so he does know what bartenders do

•He picked you up one night after your shift, and you got to talking about how it had gone

•There are quite a few regulars that visit the bar very often, and they make sure no random people bother you

•Of course there are sometimes people who like to pick a fight when they’re drunk, but you’re quite good at talking them down

•Ratchet is a bit worried about your safety, because at least on Cybertron the bars were pretty freaking rowdy and chaotic

•It can sometimes be like that for you too, but it’s pretty rare for there to be any customers that are aggressive towards you, they mostly just fight amongst themselves, if they even do

•Because of your profession, you’re a very good listener and people love opening up to you and just talking your ear off

•Ratchet notices himself doing this sometimes too, you’re just very easy to talk to

•Your job isn’t exactly glamorous, but you enjoy it

•You’re often confiscating car keys from your customers, because they’re too drunk to drive so you have to put them in a cab

•Ratchet is well aware that you have to make a living, and he’s not going to tell you what work you can or can’t do, but it doesn’t stop him from worrying about you

•He sometimes comes to the bar in his holoform, just to keep you company, but that’s a rare treat since his time is very limited

•Ratchet doesn’t drink much if at all, and he doesn’t want to distract you from actual customers, so he just sits at the end of the bar and nurses a glass of whiskey or something

•He’s just there to keep an eye on things and to make sure you’re fine

~Optimus Prime~

•Optimus thinks your profession is quite interesting, especially the people side of it

•He isn’t the most talkative sort, but once he drinks some high grade, he does get a bit more talkative

•He can only imagine how many odd things you might hear from all those drunken people you serve on a daily basis

•Some people just need to vent their troubles, even if they don’t really get drunk, they just need someone to talk to

•Of course you get hit on a lot too, being an attractive, young lady, but that kind of comes with the territory

•You get harassed every now and then, which you tell Optimus about, but there’s not really anything he can do about it, he just listens if you need to vent

•Optimus comes to visit you at the bar every now and then, and he sometimes calls you when he knows you have a break, just to ask how you’re doing

•When Optimus does end up at the bar, he does have a couple of drinks but the whole holoform thing has lifted his tolerance to high heavens so he doesn’t really get drunk at all

•But it does still make him more talkative, and he ends up sounding like an army veteran at the bar, because of all the battles he’s talking about and stuff like that

•You have to sometimes stop him from talking because he starts sounding a bit unhinged to people who aren’t privy to who he really is

#transformers #tfp #transformers prime #autobots #ratchet #optimus prime #tfp headcanons #reader insert #platonic transformers x reader #tfp x reader #transformers x reader

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navybrat817 · 1 year

Note

How is addicted to love Bucko doing? 🥺

He had a bit of a rough morning, nonnie.

Revere

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky assumes the worst after a bad dream.

Word Count: Over 1.8k

Warnings: Slight angst, a touch of fluff, talk of nightmares, Bucky thinking the worst of himself, implied E.S.C., Bucky Barnes in love (he’s a warning, okay?).

A/N: Unplanned fic and I hope you lovelies enjoy. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Header by yours truly, banner by the lovely @sgt-seabass , and divider by the amazing @rookthorne . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky would never be the perfect man, but he wanted to be the best version of himself that he could be. His nightmares, however, served as a reminder that he used to be a monster. No, that wasn't right. He was not a monster.

He was always there in his own mind though, trapped in a cage with the key out of reach. A version of himself in the mask couldn't give it to him as he was dragged away to inflict more pain. The weapon that was his body caused unspeakable horror while all he could do was scream for no one to hear.

And for the first time, he heard you scream back at him to save you.

His lungs burned as he sat up in bed, a light bead of sweat on his brow as he inhaled. It was difficult to make out in the dark where he was before he remembered he was in his own bedroom. Another deep breath surrounded him with familiar, calming scents, like your perfume lingering on the sheets. He began to count to ten in his head as he rubbed his face with both hands.

One. My name is Bucky Barnes. Two. I am no longer the Winter Soldier. Three. I didn't hurt anyone. Four. I'm home. Five. You're-

His hands dropped when he realized he didn't hear your steady breathing. The sheet was cold beside him as he stretched his arm to touch nothing. You weren't there. If you didn't have items occupying the room, he would've thought you had been a figment of his imagination.

A dream that slipped away like his memories when he woke up.

Bucky didn't call out for you immediately, but panic began to bubble in his chest when he didn't hear a single noise in the apartment. He snatched his phone from the nightstand and didn't see any missed calls or texts. You didn't have to work today and you hadn't mentioned running any errands. There was no note for him on the nightstand.

Nothing.

"Pick up, please," he whispered when he dialed your number.

You didn't answer.

Tears brimmed his eyes as he hung up. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, torn between rage and fright as he tried to keep from shaking. Did someone find you? Take you away? Were you the price to pay for his sins?

What am I supposed to do?

He bolted to the bedroom door and threw it open when he heard the key turn in the front door handle, thankful that he slipped a pair of boxers on the night before. He ran into the living room just in time to see you carefully open the door with one hand as you balanced a small box with the other. You quietly pushed the door closed with your foot, like you were trying not to make any noise.

"You're okay," he whispered as you turned around with a smile.

You're real. You're safe. You're home.

"Bucky, you should still be asleep," you said before you got a good look at him and set the box and your keys on the hallway table. "What's wrong?"

He went to you and framed your face with his hands, trying to silently assure you that he was okay. But the corners of his lips tugged into a tight smile, too tense to say that he was just fine. The cool air from outside clung to your skin as he breathed in and a sweet scent from the box drifted to his nostrils as well. Another familiar smell from a time before he knew real pain.

"You're okay," his voice cracked and it took everything in him not to crush his body against yours.

"Bucky, did you have a nightmare?" you asked, holding onto his wrists with a worried gaze.

"Yeah," he answered, wishing in that moment that he could be a normal guy for you. "I woke up and I called you and-"

"I wasn't there and I didn't answer," you finished for him, gently batting his hands away from your face so you could lead him back into the living room to sit on the couch. "Bucky, I'm so sorry. I was trying to surprise you and thought I'd be back before you got up."

Of course, you did. You're an amazing girlfriend.

"You're home now," he said as he sat beside you.

Here in our sanctuary where danger can't permeate these walls if I can help it.

Shades of yellow and orange crept into the room through the window as the sun came up more, the silence stretching on before he found himself with his head in your lap. You stroked his hair back with a tiny smile when he turned to look at you, but you didn't push him to talk about his nightmare. He was thankful for that.

He usually woke you when he had a nightmare and you never complained as you soothed him. Not once. You were always beside him.

Until today.

"I'm sorry," he said, his throat tight as he felt his mind drift far away.

Your touch brought him back.

“Don't be. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you needed me,” you said softly. "And I'm sorry I didn't leave a note. I really thought I'd be back, but that's no excuse."

He swallowed as guilt set in. You went out to surprise him and now you were apologizing because he couldn't handle having a bad dream. You did so much for him, for others. He didn't want to be one more person who had to turn to you.

“You’re here. You're always here when I need you and I appreciate that so much,” he promised, swallowing a little again. “But I heard you scream."

"In your nightmare?" you guessed as he shut his eyes. "Oh, Bucky. I'm okay. I'm right here," you assured him.

"I just got scared when I woke up alone."

Logically, he knew the chances of something happening to you were slim, but the fright he felt after his bad dream was enough to deter him when he woke up in an empty, cold bed.

"And I didn't actually get up until I heard the front door," he continued, trying to find the right words. "It was like I couldn't move until I heard the key in the door."

"It's okay."

"No, it isn't."

"How long were you awake before I got back?" you asked.

"Not long," he said as he thought about it. "But you should be able to depend on me should you be in trouble."

"And I can. I know I can. I don't think you give yourself enough credit," you said, running your fingers through his hair again in a soothing pattern. "You said you called me. I'll bet you listened for me, too."

"But I felt like I froze," he said. "Like I didn't take enough action."

Like whatever went wrong was my fault.

"Calling me was a form of taking action," you pointed out. "Had I not walked through the door, I know you would have gotten up and looked for me if something was wrong."

"That's true," he agreed. He would have done everything in power to find or help you had something happened. He just didn't understand why he jumped to a terrible conclusion instead of thinking logically. "So why was I so scared today?

"Because you're human and you woke up from what was likely a very realistic nightmare."

The horrors that went through his dark dreams actually happened and he didn't want your pain to become one of those twisted memories.

"I'm messed up," he whispered as he opened his eyes.

Not my fault, but I am.

"You're not messed up. You're a work in progress. We all are," you said with such earnestness that his heart ached. "Some days won't be easy, but you learn from your experiences and allow yourself to feel. You may even learn to give yourself the grace you deserve."

There was no frustration or impatience in your tone. Nothing to admonish him for why he felt the way he did. Only infinite patience and love that he was lucky enough to receive.

"And if I stumble along the way?" he asked.

"Stumbling means you're doing something right, Bucky," you said, helping him sit up. "To me, it isn't about how you fall. It's how you pick yourself up again."

Bucky shifted closer with a hint of a smile. "How do you always know exactly what to say?"

How do you soothe the pain inside me?

"I don't, but I do want to help."

You already are.

"The box by the door. What is it?" he asked.

"Oh," you said as you dropped your head for a second. "You mentioned that old bakery you liked and I made sure to get up extra early so I could bring you back something."

"The Italian Bakery?" he smiled.

"Yeah, that one," you smiled at him.

He mentioned it to you when he told you an old story. No wonder the smell reminded him of a happier time. It shouldn't have shocked him that you wanted to surprise him.

"You must have been quiet. Hard to sneak past me," he half joked.

"You were in a pretty deep sleep when I left. I must have worn you out last night," you teased as he chuckled, a quiet and heartfelt sound. "I thought it would be nice treat for you to wake up to."

There was still a bit of tension in Bucky's body as he kissed your lips, but he could breathe easier.

My beautiful, thoughtful other half.

"Thank you."

"I can go get it," you offered.

"Stay here?" he asked when you moved to stand, not letting you go. "Please?"

Just stay right here when I can see and touch you.

"Okay," you whispered.

Bucky didn't allow himself to cry immediately as he held you and traded lazy kisses, but he let a tear slip by the time he pulled you into his lap after he wordlessly tore at your fabric that covered your skin. He mouthed a declaration of love against your lips as his breath caught in his throat, revered by you. Maybe you were the price of his sins, but he would find a way to be your savior.

The man and hero you deserve.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too."

You gasped when Bucky slid his cock into you and gently took hold of your hips when he couldn't go any deeper. He throbbed inside you and nosed along your neck as you shuddered. Fucking you properly was what his body wanted to do. His mind, on the other hand, didn't need to go any further for now.

He just needed the comfort of you, his home.

And the depths of his mind, the key slid into place and unlocked the cage.

Maybe it wasn't so far out of reach after all.

Oh, I love him. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Addicted to Love Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #addicted to love #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you

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rosewaterandivy · 6 months

Text

Epilogue | for once in my life

Summary: Rumor has it, that hometown hero-turned-teacher Steve Harrington is hot for teacher. The English teacher next door to him at Hawkins High, who also happens to be his childhood friend, that is.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x chaotic!dumbass reader

W.C: 5.7k

Warnings: No use of y/n - reader goes by the nickname Trouble instead, yearning, Tuscan summers, a flashback or two, a wedding, and my usual filth™️

A/N: Thanks for bearing with me while I worked on an ending for our two beloved idiots. 🥺 Truthfully, part of me put off writing the epilogue simply because I didn’t want to let Trouble and Steve go— they’re so near and dear to me! But, all good things must come to an end and I hope I’ve given them a fitting one. Thank you all for reading along and sharing your joy with me, it’s been incredible to experience! 💜💜💜

Series masterlist | Series Playlist | trouble will find me (for Trouble, most ardently) | rebel without a clue (for Steve, with love)

The distance was difficult, only mitigated by the positively unreal Tuscan summer. Though the university was in Bologna in the Emilia-Romagna region, since your classes centered on Dante, you along with a few other students, called Florence your home away from home for the summer.

The sun shone bright and hot against the ancient stones of Palazzo Medici Riccardi, and felt good against your back as you lazed in the garden and courtyard on a rare day off from combing through medieval texts in jam-packed libraries and dust motes floating through the air.

Crossing the bustling street you popped into your local gelateria only to be greeted with an exuberant, “Bella!” from Alessandro behind the counter. “Finally you grace us with your presence,” He teases, already scooping out a serving of arancia rossa sorbetto for you into a cup.

“Grazie,” You say with a smile, taking the sorbetto from his outstretched hand. “Had a slow start to the morning is all, Sandro.”

“Certo, I know how it is,” He says with a knowing wink.

To be fair, the slow start to the day was warranted, given the stress-induced dream you had last night. There you were, minding your own business, thinking about Steve and the voice note he’d left you earlier, and the next thing you know, your brain decided a trip down memory lane was warranted.

“But what do I do about the dress?” Your voice is choked, tongue stumbling over the words.

It hangs in your closet, mocking you. A pink dust bag with an elegant calligraphy card that lists your former wedding date and ex-fiancé’s last name. Robin’s fingers graze the zipper on the garment bag, fingers slowly settling along the pull.

“You could try it on?”

She says it as if she wishes she didn’t have to, as if the next time you would put on the wedding dress would be for the alteration appointment which you had already canceled, along with everything else.

Truthfully, the day you found the dress wasn’t at all what you expected it to be. Sure, you’d looked around online and at a few boutiques with Nancy, Robin, your mother, and would-be mother-in-law. Nothing struck your fancy though, each dress you slipped on had something wrong with it— too tight, too loose, too many embellishments, not enough embellishments, too heavy...

It was Steve who suggested the boutique, actually. One of his mother’s friends had a daughter who’d gotten her dress from a place in Indianapolis and said the service and selection were both top-notch. So you went and made a day trip out of it; Eddie and Steve would drop you and the girls off at the boutique and hang out in the city for the day.

Though, they really did try to weasel their way in to the appointment.

“The fact that you won’t let us join you is misandry.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh. “No, it isn’t, Eds!”

“Okay,” he relents, turning around to face you in the backseat, “Maybe not misandry, but definitely discriminatory. Dudes just wanna have fun!”

Steve laughs, pulling up in front of the boutique, waves to your mother who’s waiting on the sidewalk. “Y’never know,” he teases, “Could need a second opinion in there. Especially once they open the champagne.”

Eddie squawks at that, “You get to try on dresses and drink booze? I’m offended I’ve been left out here.”

Robin opens the backdoor with a roll of her eyes, “No boys allowed, dingus.”

You follow suit, giving Steve a small smile, “Thanks for driving us.”

His gaze softens, eyes meeting yours, “Happy to help. Now, go find a stunner in there for us, will ya?”

With a shake of your head, you bring yourself back to the moment. Sitting on the floor of your former home, moving boxes and tape littering the floor ready for you to pack up the pieces of your life. You look to Robin again, she’s unzipped the garment bag entirely revealing the bodice and skirt of the gown.

She watches you thoughtfully, “I mean, just to see if you still like it? That way we’ll know if we need to pack it or sell it.”

Sighing, you wipe your damp palms against your thighs and stand up. “Yeah,” you breathe, “Okay.”

Between the two of you, you managed to wrestle into the dress. Robin securing the delicate straps as you adjust the cups and situate yourself. The door creaks open to reveal Nancy, her eyes bright with interest.

Robin gives up with her attempts to fix the zipper and numerous buttons on the back, steps aside for Nancy to intervene.

“You’re gorgeous, babe,” Robin says, voice soft. “It looks amazing on you! Same as the day we found it.”

“It’s one hell of a dress.” Nancy agrees, the zipper pull sliding home. “No one would say no to you in that.”

Your laugh comes out as a choked thing, wet and raspy. You wipe your eyes in an effort to prevent any tears from falling. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? He didn’t even have to see the dress to know that he no longer wanted you.

“Thanks, guys.”

Feeling brave enough to look at the mirror, you pause in perusal. And sure enough, it’s a stunner. Delicate lace embellished the corseted bodice, waist nipped just enough to amplify the bust. The skirt flowed down in layers of silk and tulle, the lace accenting the frothy peaks and valleys of it.

Turning, you noticed the low-dip of the back, highlighted by the beginnings of the train. It was a gown meant for a cathedral wedding, a long aisle as you walked toward the altar. A beautiful wedding dress for a wedding that no longer was.

It was getting difficult to justify keeping it.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, bursting into the room slack-jawed, “Your tits look great!”

Robin smacks him, “No boys allowed, dingus!”

“Yeah, Eddie, don’t you know what a closed door means?”

He grins, “I think we know by now that, no, I clearly do not.”

Hearing footsteps coming down the hall, you turn to Nancy eyes wide. “Nance, the door–”

She shuts it quickly, keeping a hand on the knob. Robin and Eddie stop their bickering long enough to share a meaningful glance. You fist the full of the skirt in both hands and motion for Robin’s help in getting the dress off.

“Uh.” Steve says, voice muffled through the closed door, “What’s going on in there?”

“Nothing!” You’re quick to respond, trying and failing to keep the panic from your voice, “Just packing up some stuff.”

“Riiiight.” He drawls, “Then do I hear Eddie in there talking about tits?”

“Hey man,” Eddie says in his own defense. “I just wandered in here, I know nothing.”

“And why is the door locked?”

Nance’s eyes go to the doorknob as it jiggles in her hand. “We’re trying to figure out what to do with the dress,” she says in a breathless rush.

If looks could kill, Nancy would have dropped to the floor. You narrow your eyes at her and turn with a huff.

“What dress— t-the wedding dress?”

“Yes, Steve.” Robin sighs. “That’s the one.”

The doorknob swivels again, “C’mon, just open the door guys. Eddie’s seen it and I am officially the only one who hasn’t.”

“No!” You shout.

Everyone stops to look at you, eyes wide.

“I mean,” you sputter indignantly, stepping out of the dress and throwing on your overly large t-shirt. “S’not a big deal, I’ll probably sell it, anyway.”

Robin and Eddie maneuver it back into the garment bag with a zip just as Nancy steps away from the door, gaze soft taking in your drawn face.

Steve stumbles in soon after to find you, pants-less, the hem on your shirt grazing your bare thighs, furiously taping boxes closed and scribbling in sharpie.

“Nothing to see here!” You say, stumbling into your bike shorts, tugging them back up. “No siree, nothing at all.”

His chest falls slightly, looking from you to the pink garment bag and back again. Robin catches the minute change in his expression before he’s picking up a box and carrying it out into the hall, not a word to be said about the dress.

And all that runs through your mind is a frantic buzz of ‘It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding dress.’ Never mind that you were no longer a bride and Steve was never your intended groom. Any rational know-how kicked from your thoughts in an echo of your hammering heart.

Why your exhausted brain conjured up that particular episode, you had no idea. The instance was promptly forgotten, the dress stored at your parent’s place, and Steve never brought it up again.

Thank God for that.

Maybe it was because of Nancy and Jonathan’s looming nuptials. He’d popped the question not long after Nance moved in, and it had been full-steam ahead since March. The ceremony was to happen at the end of summer, just as your intensive was wrapping up.

She’d nearly had a coronary when you’d expressed your doubts about being able to attend.

“I’m not getting married without you Trouble, so sweet-talk those profs into letting you sit your exams early and get the fuck back home.” She sighs down the line, “There’s only so much of moping Steve we can take— Eddie is about ready to strangle him.”

You huff a laugh, “Yeah, I’m surprised he’s held out this long.”

“Yeah, she agrees dryly, "We all know you two'll take any excuse to get Steve in a headlock.”

“I don’t need an excuse,” You scoff. “That punk needs to be put in his place.”

You’d taken up Nance on her no-nonsense advice and your professors had graciously allowed you to submit your final papers early in order to make the wedding. Unfortunately, you’d miss out on a few of the celebrations like the bridal shower, bachelorette party, and rehearsal dinner— your flight would be landing just as the festivities began— but, Nancy and Jonathan had agreed to help you surprise the gang.

For all Robin, Eddie, and Steve knew there was absolutely, positively no way you could get out of your scheduled final exams. It sucked, as Robin rightfully pointed out, that you’d have to miss your best friend’s wedding but they all understood.

Steve was more hangdog about it than ever.

“Thanks Sandro,” You call out, plastic spoon in your mouth as you quickly step out the door, leaving a €5 note on the counter before he could stop you with a, “Your money is no good here, bella!”

Your phone buzzes in your bag, ducking under an awning your scramble through your well-worn tote bag to find it, throwing your sunglasses on in the process.

“Hey Fratty light,” You greet with a smile, spooning another cool helping of blood orange flavored ice into your mouth. “Do any good keg stands lately?”

Steve’s laugh nearly eclipses the warmth of the sun on your skin, a surge of heat building low in your stomach.

“At least I didn’t fall off the keg.”

“That was one time!” You scoff, jogging across the street before an aggressive Vespa can mow you down. Pulling the phone away from your mouth, you give the driver the ombrello gesture and shout, “Vaffanculo!”

He chuckles at your outburst, “Tell ‘em babe!”

“I’ll have you know, I stuck that landing Harrington and, it was quite the crowd-pleaser if I recall.”

“Sure Trouble,” You can nearly hear the eye roll at your expense, “It was the landing and not the fact that you were wearing those panties.”

The fact that he remembered the pair in question has you reeling, you nearly run into a fellow pedestrian in your dazed state.

“Anyway,” You say, cleaning your throat. “What’s on the sad boy agenda for today? Getting into divorced dad rock, any Matchbox-20 or Creed in your future?”

“God, you’re awful, and no, thanks very much.”

You hear a door slam and a car engine turn over. Someone muttering about Steve’s ‘utter lack of taste’ in music— Eddie, without a doubt.

He sighs down the line, pulling on your heartstrings because you miss them all so damn much, but Steve most of all.

“Just helping with some wedding stuff.” His voice is softer, sadder knowing you won’t be there to celebrate with them. “Boring shit, you know.”

You hum in agreement, “Well I’ll let you get to it. Don’t let Eddie flirt with too many bridesmaids!”

“You got it, chief,” Steve says, “Take care of yourself babe.”

“You too, big boy.” A huff of laughter at hearing his scoff, “Byyyeeee.”

And maybe it happens like Nance said it would, things just fall into place when they’re meant to.

After a flight from hell— a toddler would not, for love or money, stop kicking the back of your seat on the evening flight from Milan to Berlin, and you were stuck in the backmost row from Berlin to Indianapolis on the red-eye. It was a miracle you rolled up to your parents' house in one piece. You’d arrive at the venue to get ready with the rest of the bridal party where you’d hopefully be able to keep Robin sworn to secrecy.

You weren’t above putting her into a headlock, if it came down to it.

Dress, shoes, and make-up bag hastily thrown in your mom’s car, you drove to the venue just outside of Hawkins. A lovely little outdoor property owned by a local family, groves of trees and the finest collection of wildflowers you’d ever seen— fitting for Nancy and Jonathan.

You arrive in a slightly mussed frenzy, arms weighed down with your bridesmaid dress and a weekend bag that did fuck-all to protect you from the sudden onslaught of summer rain. Cursing the permeability of Indiana summers, you walk swiftly toward the bridal cottage.

The squelch of your shoes and drops of rain accompany you across the tiled path. Breathe. A steady inhale pulls the comforting scent of petrichor to your lungs, tucked safely behind the cage of your ribs. A shift in the light, a cloud makes way for the sun to shine once more; you scramble for the club masters perched on your head, impossibly tangled (of course) in a damp nest of hair.

Pried free, you rest the glasses against your nose bridge and stroll to the door. Before you can wrestle a hand free to knock, the door swings open to reveal a tipsy Vickie and bemused Nancy. A smirk settles on your lips as the two shuffle you into the cottage, tutting at the state of your hair and general tardiness.

“It is a wedding y’know,” Vickie teases grabbing the canvas bag from you. “Could make an effort to be on time.” She drops a wink your way before absconding toward the vanity table to deliver your belongings elsewhere.

Nancy huffs and rolls her eyes, taking the dresses from your arm. “Ignore her,” she soothes, “Seems the title of temporary co-M.O.H. has gone straight to her head.” She shoves a flute of champagne into your empty hand and leads you inside. “But you’re here, so the title can rightfully fall to you.”

“And how is the blushing bride?” You smile, taking in her cool, calm demeanor.

She’s notoriously hard to ruffle, so you’re not surprised to find Nancy the same as ever, albeit a tad buzzed from the champagne.

“Fuck a duck!” Robin shouts, colliding with part of the doorway as she takes the corner to quickly in her haste to get to you, having heard your voice from down the hall. She trips falling into you in a quasi-hug that’s mostly all elbows jabbed into your ribs.

“Walk with dignity, you overgrown toddler,” You laugh sipping some champagne, wrapping your arm around her in a proper hug. She buries her face into your neck with a smile. “And before you even ask, no you cannot, under any circumstance, tell your emotional support Steve about this.”

You feel her frown before she pulls back from you, “I can keep a secret y’know.”

“I don’t doubt it Bucks, just wanna surprise him is all.”

“He has no idea? Oh shit, this is gonna be good.” She says with a cackle before trotting off to help Vickie with her dress.

“Alright Wheels,” You announce polishing off your flute of champagne, “Let me at it, where’s the hairspray?”

After furious coating of L’Oreal’s finest to her hair after you’d secured a few flowers in place, you cough in a haze of hairspray and sagely advise, “That’s good for three slow dances, two fast ones, and one Lambada…” You warn, capping the canister to set it aside. “But if you wanna mosh, I’d suggest another coat.”

Nancy laughs at the suggestion, “I think we’re good.” She checks your handiwork in the mirror with a smile, “Can I ask you something Trouble?”

“Shoot.”

She turns to face you and lowers her voice to a whisper while the other bridesmaids are busy with false eyelashes and zipping up dresses. “Have you given any thought to what I said back in May?”

Ah, that conversation. The one where she (lovingly) warned you off of Steve if you weren’t certain about your feelings for him. Your big, overwhelming feelings. As if you could forget them, even thousands of miles away.

“You know,” You begin, voice pitched to meet hers, “I had a bit of time to think over the summer, no distractions, just me and the Tuscan sun.”

She stands to slip into her dress and you follow to assist— it’s a beautiful number, all minimal sleek lines and fitted to her like a glove. Nancy is gorgeous, but Nancy on her wedding day is otherworldly. She dutifully turns for you to button up the back and arrange the train for photos.

“And?”

Your eyes meet in the mirror, hers curious but not prying, yours wide, reeling from it all— the pro/con lists, numerous conversations with your mom, Eddie, and Nance, the letters, emails, voice notes, calls and texts from Steve. Somehow, some way they all amounted to this:

“You remember my twenty-first birthday?”

“How could I forget,” She chuckles knowingly, “Spin the bottle, right?”

A nod, you busy yourself smoothing out the few lines in the silhouette of the dress. “And a bit of liquid courage.”

There is no good reason why the eight of you should be doing this. Back at the loft after a night of carousing and bar-hopping, imbibed enough complimentary birthday drinks that spin the bottle seemed like a good idea. Even if the bottle in question is some ridiculously expensive high-roller shit swiped from Mr. Harrington’s study.

You’re warm, leaning on Eddie’s shoulder and whispering in his ear— goading him about kissing someone. Steve hopes it’s not you.

The glass mouth of the bottle spins to a stop in front of Jonathan who groans loudly before clambering over the whoops and hollers.

“Lay it on ‘im Munson!”

You tip backwards and shriek in glee when their lips touch. Eddie returns to your side with a roll of his eyes, pokes your knee with his finger. “Pucker up, buttercup. You’re next.”

Argyle cracks his knuckles, taps his chin thoughtfully, “Alright chica.” He says, “Hope you get Nance or Vic. Make it nice and steamy up in here.”

Steve hopes it’s him and not Nancy, selfishly. The rest of them be damned, if the bottle lands on him he’s going to frog-leap over Eddie, shove him to the side and kiss you good. If it lands on anyone else, he may get arrested for murder tonight.

There’s really no excuse for it— the longing. Best friends since childhood who drifted apart because, as always, he was a dumbass. Kissed you all of one time after the Homecoming dance freshman year and that was barely a peck.

The bottle lands on Vickie.

Slightly tipsy and putting on a show, you bite your bottom lip and lean in, slanting your mouth over hers with a soft sigh. The sound sinks into Steve’s gut and he groans in agony— jealous you’d rather kiss his ex or the redhead rather than him. Nevermind that the bottle was nowhere near landing on him.

“Keep it PG, ladies!” Robin calls, “This is taking way too long!”

“Bucks, shut up. I’m trying to take a video.” Nancy slaps the phone from Eddie’s hand.

Having had enough of it all, Steve stands. “Not that this isn’t how I want to spend my night…” he mumbles, hands patting his thighs. “But I’m peacing out.”

You look up, distracted, and bottom lip a little wet from Vickie, eyes hazy from the long night of celebrating, and quirk your head. “You leavin’, Stevie? Wan’ me to walk you?”

“What— like he’s gonna get lost from here to his room?”

Steve is going to get arrested tonight for murdering Eddie. Tries to keep his cool, regardless.

“S’okay birthday girl, I’ll be fine. You have fun.”

You hop up anyway, a bit blundering in your step, and grab his hand to yank him forward. “C’mon… I gotcha.” Fortified with liquor, you tug him along, turning a corner and chattering about how as much as you appreciate that expensive whiskey, you’d rather have a beer. There’s nothing better than some pretzels, beer, and a movie.

“Oh, uh, s-sorry.” Your hand loosens before you pull it away, self-consciously.

“For what?”

“I know we haven’t been, like, close for a while now. I didn’t mean to grab you like that.”

Oh. The realization dawns on him now, like a crash of lightning— you think he’s guarded… but he’s only been reserved for your sake.

He calls your name, followed by a murmured, “C’mere for a second.”

You lean against his bedroom door, dazed but curious. Steve steps forward until you’re nearly chest to chest, back against the wood. Your mouth opens with a nearly inaudible gasp, but he can see your pulse kick up in your throat. “Yeah?”

"You remember our first kiss?" He waits for you to nod before continuing. "I think I owe you a do-over."

Confusion flits across your face, a solitary brow quirked up in interest. "You wanna mulligan my first kiss, like... seven years after the fact?"

He ducks his chin in embarrassment, skin flushing with heat. "Yeah, I mean, if you're open to it?" He scratches the back of his neck and mumbles, "I just think you deserve better."

You bite your lip in thought, and Steve wants nothing more than to shrivel up and die— but then, you nod, and before he can think better of it, he takes his chance.

Purposefully, Steve tilts your face up fingers, trailing along your chin and jaw, thumbing the full of your bottom lip. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, all whooshes and erratic beats, almost enough to drown out the words that fall from his lips.

And then, the perfect genius that is Steve Harrington leans down to close the distance between you. Satisfied that your face is tilted just so, his hand sweeps back your hair to cradle your head as his lips descend to yours.

He kisses you like he’s got all the time in world— like it isn’t past three in the morning and you’re about a minute from slipping under. He kisses lazy, slow, and sublime. Presses you closer to him, an arm winding around your waist to pull you from the wall. More, kissing—tongues and lips and teeth— more of that touch you’ve only dreamed about and you want to kick yourself for missing it, for even daring to fantasize when the real thing is so much more.

Your palms are on his chest, pawing at him for leverage, struggling to refrain from bucking your hips up into him like you so desperately want to do. Steve pulls back with a contented sigh, and you’re surprised there isn’t a string of saliva strung between the pair of your for all the swapping spit that just occurred. There’s nothing but you and him. His gaze, so tentative and sweet, meets yours briefly as he stands back hands shoved quickly into his pockets.

“I meant something like that.”

Your mouth tugs at a corner, as if you could laugh or cry. Or smile.

Steve lets out a breathy chuckle, brandishes a small, hopeful smile, and runs a hand through his hair.

You nod. And it’s enough.

“I–I think I’ve known for a while.” You admit sheepishly, looking for any last-minute adjustments that need to be made before the precessional. One hand grasping her train, you follow Nancy toward the door. Taking a shaky breath in, you say, "Guess some part of me has been in love with him since I fell off the fence and into his backyard that first summer."

She stops short and turns back to you elated because she knows the story all too well. Steve doesn't get drunk enough to talk about it often–- the man has a wooden leg, hand to god. But once in a blue moon, it'll happen: how the new neighbor's daughter nearly busted her ass sneaking back home way after her curfew, too buzzed on shitty wine coolers and reeking of weed to realize that she'd fallen on the wrong side of the fence.

Hastily, Robin thrusts a bouquet of flowers into Nancy’s hand. Just before the band starts up, Nancy gives your hand a squeeze and advises, “Sometimes what’s meant for you comes back, Trouble. Don’t let it slip by, okay?”

Steve is just looking to survive the day, he’ll be grateful to get through, honestly.

He was beyond bummed you couldn’t be there for Nance’s wedding and that he’d be sitting with her cousin instead— she’d talked his ear off during the rehearsal dinner last night about her current rewatch of Sex and The City. He’d never been so relieved to be pulled into bridal party duties by Eddie than he was that night.

And, to top it off, you weren’t answering your phone. Logically, he knew you’d be in exams for most of the day but you normally sent him a text or voice note once you woke up or before you made it to class for the day.

He’s pathetic. Eddie forced him to leave his phone in the groom’s suite and now he feels phantom vibrations from something that isn’t even in his pocket. Heaving a sigh, he lines up ready to escort Vickie and mentally preparing himself for a detailed recounting of the havoc that Samantha’s absence has caused the SATC franchise from the Wheeler cousin.

“You know,” A lazy, familiar voice drawls to his right, “If I was a riptide, I wouldn’t take you out.” An arm loops through his, comfortable and intimate.

But no— it couldn’t possibly be…

“Hey, Harrington.” You say, quietly, knocking your hips to his, casually holding a bouquet in your hand, all easy smiles and warm touches. When Steve finally does turn, he blinks a few times to confirm that you're not some hallucination.

Because you’re here, impossibly, you’re home, and everything is finally right in the world.

You reach over to straighten his tie, the alexandrite ring gleaming on your right hand and catching the light.

“How did you—” He stammers, bereft of language.

But then there’s that smirk he adores. “Some of us are stealthy, y’know. Like a ninja.”

“Oh, fuck me right in the mouth.” He laughs loud and bright, a few people turn back in their chairs to look.

You sputter briefly as the precessional begins, hand lighting on his arm with a gentle squeeze. “Uh, that can certainly be arranged, Harrington.”

In that moment he knew, with a certain sense of finality, that he had no choice but to love you; all his love and, if he’s being honest, fear, reflected there in your eyes.

The ceremony is beautiful, of course, and the reception is now in full swing. The new Mr. and Mrs. Byers shared an adorable first dance to “At Last” by Ella Fitzgerald, which nearly had you tearing up before Steve twirled you out onto the dancefloor.

“Hey, good lookin’,” He says with a smile so sweet, it almost makes you weak in the knees.

It’s a slow song, something to get the couples up and out of their seats. Over his shoulder you spy Robin and Vickie making goony eyes at eachother while Eddie and Argyle stumble around both trying to lead the other— idiots.

“Hi, Steve.” You reply, eyes making their way back to him. “Y’know, they say you should never trust a man who can dance.”

“And why’s that, honey?”

You shrug, “Dunno. Apparently they’re all heartbreakers or something.”

Steve, thanks to his mother’s needling and his father’s need to keep up appearances, could dance. He’d escorted many a debutante, including yourself, during Cotillion. You can still hear Savannah’s nasally “Did you know that five out of six debs marry their escorts?”

But, then again, she was also drinking from the fun flask at the ripe age of sixteen. So, do with that what you will.

He spins you easily, like it’s nothing, and before you know it you’re back in his arms. His brow is furrowed in thought, but what he could possibly be thinking you hadn’t a clue. So you continue to follow his lead across the dance floor and silently thank Mrs. Harrington for forcing you and Steve into those dance classes way back when, even if he stepped on your toes and you retaliated with an accidental elbow to his ribs— knock-kneed teens the pair of you.

So much has changed since then.

The music pauses, as someone announces that the bride will toss the bouquet. You go to find the bar, but Steve promises he’ll come back with a drink for you instead and then Eddie is hustling you toward the crowd of “single ladies.”

“Eds, no.” You attempt to swat him away, but he’s having none of it.

“Far as I know, you and Harrington are fuck buddies. No declarations,” His eyes fall to your left hand, “No ring. Beyoncé would insist, sugar.”

You’ve always had a sixth sense about things. When you were younger, your family and friends often thought it was an ability— but in truth, it’s just a mixture of careful perception, logical thinking, and educated guessing.

But not even your sixth sense could explain how you’d ended up catching the bouquet. Especially with a vodka and tonic in one hand and standing at the rear of the gaggle of gals gathered for the event. Didn’t even want to take part, far more interested in finding the coat check room and seeing how long it would take Steve to blow his load once you finally got your mouth on him.

So it’s a surprise, either luck or Nance’s killer aim, when her bouquet lands in your hand, the ribbon wrapped stems falling neatly into your palm just as you turn to shout something at Eddie behind you. Catching Steve’s knowing smirk and hearing Eddie’s piercing wolf-whistle, you give him an exaggerated wink before tossing back your drink.

It’s not long after that, a few more spins around the dance floor, some cake, and more liquor, tasteful toasts from you and Argyle, fond farewells to the newlyweds and bags thrown into cars for a quick getaway, that Steve tosses you— bouquet in hand, over his shoulder and dips out of there. Ignoring Eddie’s teasing of Irish exits and Irish twins, he sets you on your feet again to lean you against the car and kisses you positively stupid.

But it’s not a surprise when Steve finally asks you the question he’s been dying to for nearly the entire summer on the drive home, Nancy’s bouquet resting against the dash as you toe off your heels.

“Hey mind-reader, how long did it take?”

“Hmm?” Pleasantly sleepy from jet lag, your mind struggles to spark a fuse of comprehension. Steve raises a solitary brow in interest.

"Whaddya mean?" You mumble out between stifled yawns.

His hand rests on your leg while he drives, big and warm, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of your dress. Steve, bless him, won't press you on it, but he also wouldn't have asked something so casually for no reason. He's crafty like a fox when he wants to be.

You take a breath and let yourself really think about it. If you’re taking the question seriously, which you damn well should, he deserves an explanation. Hesitantly, you remind Steve of the near fiasco with the wedding dress back at your old place. He nods at your rambling, how guilty and scared you felt at shutting him out.

“So, yeah, between the moving-in playlist and me being bat-shit terrified of you seeing me in a wedding dress,” You summarize, fingers finding their way to his once more. The warm glow of the streetlights cast shafts of light through the windows. “You’re about as subtle as a brick through a window, Steve Harrington," You conclude with a smirk.

His eyes widen in realization, “Oh, so that’s what you were apologizing for before left for Joshua Tree.” An annoyed sigh before a sharp inhale takes its place. “You’re so stupid.”

Back at the loft, fumbling hands in elevators lips spit slick and ruddied, Steve bats away your grabby hands with an exasperated huff as they light upon his chest. Nearly dropping his keys when they find a better way to occupy themselves.

Once inside, he presses his face into your neck, kissing hungrily, anywhere he can, down to your collarbones and chest and then he’s lifting you up by the thighs, kicking the door close, and instinctively pulling everything off.

He peels his shirt off and throws it onto the floor while you shimmy out of your dress. His mouth hasn’t left yours for anything other than to breathe.

His hands stop at the curve of your hips. The room is spinning— the entire world moving too fast in a feverish haze. Years of close-quartered friendship and the first intimate touches in months have jumped right into the deep end. You don’t even know when the two of you made way back into his room, but the door clicks shut with a kick from his foot.

“Hey, mind-reader, I got two questions for you,” Steve calls teasingly. “First, how big did you think I was, y'know before? When you accused me of, how did you put it... harboring a fugitive?”

Your brain briefly short-circuits at that, mildly embarrassed. He laughs at your slow, owlish blinks while you formulate a response other than, "Well, I, uh..."

"Okay, okay," He drops a kiss to your brow, soothing your worries away, “Second…”

You gulp. Your legs feel like jelly— all the smart words in the entire world wiped completely from existence. The pause he takes is punishingly long and the grin he gives you nearly makes you faint.

His pants are shucked somewhere near the bedroom door. One of your hands goes into his hair, other guiding him between your legs where you smear all over his fingers.

"S'been a while, do you think you can take it?”

“Oh,” A smirk quirks your lips, hand scrabbling for purchase on his tanned skin, “I think you know I can.”

Later, after frenzied forays in tangled sheets and revelling in the afterglow, you place your hand over his chest, selfishly counting his heartbeats.

You breathe, soft and sweet, “Steve,” the sound of your voice a warm balm in the inky dark. “Steve,” You say again and kiss his neck, turning toward you on the rumpled bed he kisses you, as if he could ever get enough.

“I love you.”

He pulls back, just enough so that you wrap your leg around his hips, sheet slipping off as his fingers trail up your thigh. Grazing the tip of his nose ever so lightly against your temple, you feel the rumble of laughter through his chest as it heaves against yours.

Rolls you onto your back, legs falling open to cradle his hips while he holds himself above you, hair falling into his face, “Took you long enough,” he grins, kissing you again. Your cheeks, your jaw, your chin. “I love you too, honey.”

His love is heavy and you delight in the gravity of it as he slips his way back inside, your hands pulling him closer than anyone can ever or will ever get again. It feels fated— the way your body moves and his responds in kind.

Steve only keens your name in reply.

Spun clear out of your body in the haze, pure joy erupts from your mouth, hands scrambling for him, so woozy and giddy you can’t help it.

So this is love, after all.

Finis.

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fan fiction #stranger things fan fiction #modern!steve #teacher!steve #the kids aren't alright - rosewateverandivy #Spotify

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sanguineterrain · 1 year

Note

may i pls request 12 + 63 for robin 🥺

i honestly do not remember what prompt list this was from YIKES but hi nika thank u for sending a robin req, ur a real one <3

12) “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.” and 63) “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

robin buckley x fem!reader. love confessions and kisses :-) ft. wingman steve (king)

****

One thing about snow in Hawkins is it never falls halfway.

Your parents are away for the weekend and don't know about the two feet of snow that hit last night. You've been content ignoring said snow and staying curled up in the house. You study, watch movies, and make hot chocolate. A whole pot of it, in fact. Snow days are great when you don't have to dig out the car.

You hear a scraping sound outside, like plastic on pavement. You turn off the stove and open the curtain.

It's Robin. She climbs the hill your neighborhood sits upon. She drags a large, green shovel behind her.

She's also nowhere near appropriately dressed for a Hawkins winter. Clad in only a windbreaker and a hat, you know Robin has to be freezing.

You pull on your heavy duty winter coat and scarf and head outside.

"Robin!" you call and start to unravel your scarf.

She looks up. You wonder how she walked all the way here from her house.

"Oh!" She pushes a couple strands of hair out of her face as you approach, cheeks flushed with cold. "H-hey, Y/N."

You stop in front of her, arms crossed.

"What are you wearing?"

She looks down, then at you.

"A... sweater?"

"Exactly! A sweater. It's below freezing. Here, take my jacket. Or my coat. Which do you want? I'll give you my coat first. Should fit you—it's loose on me."

You shrug out of your coat and manhandle her arms through the sleeves. Then you take off your scarf. Robin catches your arm, eyes wide.

"Y/N, it's really okay. I've been shoveling all day, I barely feel the cold anymore."

"Well, that's not a good sign, Robs. Let me put the scarf, come on."

She obediently bows her head so you can wrap the scarf around her neck. Plumes of foggy breath mingle in the air between you. Robin's eyes are a little half-lidded when you're done.

"Thanks," she whispers.

You beam. "You're welcome. Come have some hot chocolate."

"Are you sure? I–I mean, I don't wanna interrupt anything. You're probably having dinner, right?"

You shake your head.

"It's still early. My parents are out for the weekend. You're not interrupting anything. And God, all that shoveling? You must be exhausted."

You take her bare hand in your gloved one and frown.

"Remind me to get you some gloves," you say, and lead her inside.

Robin lets you pull her in. You nudge her into a chair at the kitchen table.

"So," you say. "Marshmallows? Whipped cream?"

"Oh. Um, yes, please. Thank you."

You pour two cups and swirl whipped cream in both. Then you decorate with too many mini marshmallows. You serve the dessert drinks. Robin immediately goes for hers and cream smears on her nose and lips.

She sticks her tongue out and crosses her eyes.

"Do I have something on my face?"

You grin and get a paper towel. Robin stares at you, lips slightly parted as you carefully wipe her face. You fold and toss the paper towel. Robin swallows.

"Th-thanks," she says.

"Sure thing," you reply, feeling a little warm. "Are you cold?"

"No, I'm okay. Your coat is really warm."

"Isn't it? I got it on sale at Sears. I could get you one too if you'd like. I'm a fiend for bargains."

Robin snorts.

"What!" you say. "I am!"

"Nothing, nothing. You're just really nice."

"Robin Buckley, you smooth talker. I do believe Steve is rubbing off on you."

She rolls her eyes. "God, I hope not. We were supposed to shovel together and then three streets before your neighborhood, he said he had to go home. I didn't take the ride; I've been making good money."

"But your fingers are like Otter Pops," you fret, taking her hands in yours.

Robin's cheeks are red again. You stand to feel her forehead.

"You're all flushed, Robs. Do you feel sick? I can make some tea. I also have a box of Hothands."

"N-no," she squeaks, blinking up at you. "I'm okay, really."

"Well, we can call Steve, if you like. I'm sure he'd be willing to pick you up—"

"No!"

Your brows raise. Robin shifts in her seat.

"Um, what I mean is, he's probably busy, you know? Like super busy. He had to drop everything and go so, like, it's not a big deal."

"It's not a big deal that he ditched you?" you ask. "But you guys are best friends. Why would he do that? And right before you had to climb the hill to my house?"

Robin twists her ring around her pointer finger.

"Yeah, weird. But you know, Steve has his whims. He's a... whimsical guy."

You squint. "Did he say why he ditched?"

"Uh, no, no. But like I said, it doesn't really matter."

"Well, you can stay as long as you want. I'd drive you myself but my parents have the car."

"That's okay." Robin smiles. "I like drinking hot chocolate with you."

"I have cookies! Oh my gosh, let me get those out. You'll love these. I made them yesterday."

You flit about the kitchen, getting out plates and the tin of sugar cookies. Robin takes off your and her winterwear, draping them over the chair. Then she unzips her windbreaker, revealing a smart red sweater with snowflakes printed on it and a lace collar.

"That's pretty," you say and take the plates of cookies over.

"Oh, this?" She pushes a loose curl behind her ear. That's when you notice the sparkly red barrettes.

"Those are too!" you gush. "You got all dressed up for shoveling snow?"

"Um... kinda."

You hum. "It's so unlike what you normally wear, Robs. Do you have a date or something?"

"No," she says weakly. "No date."

"Well, any girl would be lucky to have you," you say.

She perks up. "Really?"

"Of course!"

You know Robin's been pining for that Vickie girl in school. And you're okay with that. Robin doesn't even know you're an option, after all. You can't blame her for pursuing other people.

Robin takes a bite of cookie.

"Shit," she says. "These are amazing."

You grin. "I'm glad you like them. I'll give you some to take."

She chews for a bit, then suddenly sets down the cookie.

"Hey," Robin says. "Can I... can I tell you something?"

"Always."

"Okay." She takes a deep breath. "Okay, just... please promise me that if you don't feel the same you won't... we won't stop being friends."

You tilt your head. "Feel the same? Robs, what are you—"

"Please?" she begs. "Please promise me."

"I promise, Robs. We literally fought a DnD monster last year. Nothing could make us stop being friends. Cross my heart and hope to die."

Robin chews her lip hard. She fidgets with her collar.

"Nancy helped me pick this sweater out," she says. "This morning."

"Nancy? Uh, okay... what does that have to—"

"Steve didn't ditch me," she blurts.

You shake your head. "I don't understand."

"I wore this sweater for you."

"For me?"

"I like you, Y/N," she says quietly. "I really, really like you. I didn't choose to shovel this neighborhood by accident. And I'm so nervous around you so Steve suggested I find an excuse to see you and then it snowed and I thought, maybe I can shovel your driveway and I'll finally have a real conversation and stop chickening out! But–but then you gave me your coat and brought me hot chocolate and oh my God, you're like the sweetest girl ever and I really, really like you and—"

"Robin."

She stops, eyes wide. You crouch so you're level with her chair.

"Sorry," she whispers.

You shake your head.

"Sorry for what?" you ask with a smile.

And you kiss her.

Robin makes a surprised noise but she doesn't pull away. Her fingers are cold on your cheek so you cover them with your hands to warm her up. She tastes like hot chocolate and icing. Her lips are chapped and you know her habit of picking at them, so you take care not to tug too hard with your teeth.

She hums, soft and low, and you understand. It feels like you fit.

"Do Steve and Nancy like sugar cookies?" you ask when you pull away.

Robin's brows furrow. "Steve definitely does. Why?"

"Well, I feel like they should get a treat for the parts they played."

Robin grins slyly. "Do I get a treat? I feel like I played a huge part in this, too."

You bite your lip through a smile and tug Robin forward by the collar of her sweater. She catches herself on your arms, blush high on her cheeks.

"Of course you do, Robs. You get all the treats you want."

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #inbox #blurb #this has been in my drafts for three freaking months 🙈#justice for my girl #LESBIANS!

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avatar-anna · 2 years

Note

I'm latina and i've never had a snowy christmas because it's summer where i live... so i imagine spending christmas in New York or London with Harry, playing and dancing in the snow all day like little kids and then having a cozy dinner by the fire. A DREAM 🥺😍

this reminds me that i have a younger harry christmas fic hanging around somewhere in my drafts lmao. enjoy!

another post from my wattpad🤪🤪🤪

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time Y/n and Harry traveled to London with the intention of staying there for more than a week or two was something of a hectic one.

Because it wasn't just a trip. It was Christmas.

Up until now, they'd always gone their separate ways for the holidays to spend time with their families, but this year was different. Y/n was headed for England to spend Christmas with Harry and his family.

And so excited to share his life in England with his girlfriend, Harry packed the first few days with activity after activity. He took her all around London to see everything there was to see even though she’d seen them already—he claimed that it was different now since she would be a temporary resident.

He took her shopping at all his favorite stores, which was mostly just him shopping and her watching, but she’d become very good at it since they started dating; she even enjoyed how he would come out of a dressing room to show her a pair of pants or a shirt with beautiful embroidery on it and ask her what she thought. They went to a Christmas market, had a pretty intense gingerbread house contest that ended with frosting everywhere but where it should've been, they even decorated a tree together. A small one since they were going to be in Holmes Chapel for a majority of the trip, but it was still a special moment together.

His biggest plan for her though was a weekend trip to his hometown. To meet his family.

Now, she’d met his immediate family before—Gemma and Anne, his father, Des, his step siblings and a couple of his cousins—but the way Harry described the weekend, he made it sound like nearly everyone in Holmes Chapel was coming to his childhood home to meet her. Y/n’s eyes widened when Harry told her about the “little party” his mom had planned for them, feeling like every time he mentioned it, another ten people were coming.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t accustomed to big family parties, that was pretty much all she knew when it came to her family getting together. But that was her family. She knew her family and their quirks, knew what kind of food would be served at dinner and the kind of music that would play when the dancing began. She didn’t really know anything about Harry’s family outside the people she’d met, or his whole town, for that matter.

There was also a small, irrational fear the size of a pea in the back of Y/n’s mind, one that realized that she was a far cry from some of the women he’d dated in the past and perhaps brought home. It was never really something she thought about before, and if she wasn’t about to meet every single person who had been a part of Harry’s childhood, she wouldn’t. But she felt insecure for some reason, like she was suddenly aware of how short she was, the size of her waist, the way one of her front teeth was slightly on top of the other one, and—and had her boobs always been that small? She didn’t want to, but late at night, the night before she and Harry were going to drive to Holmes Chapel, every teeny tiny insecurity she’d ever had came bubbling to the surface. Even worse, she felt painfully aware of her tan skin, which had darkened a little from spending so much time at the beach before coming to London, of her name, which was unusual even in her own family. She thought back to how she stopped introducing herself by her full name in high school. It’s what everyone at home called her anyway, but the first couple of times she tried it her first week, some people gave her funny looks, and teachers kept mispronouncing it, so she just made it easier on herself and everyone else.

It was silly, how she was feeling, but she couldn’t close her eyes and fall asleep and forget about the tension in the pit of her stomach. Harry was not at all the kind of person she was worried about, and neither were his parents or sister, or any of the other family members of his that she’d met. But it was like the later it got and she still hadn’t fallen asleep, the more her thoughts continued to spiral, as they often did if something was bothering her. She thought about the stories she’d heard growing up about her mom meeting her dad’s family for the first time, the questions they would ask her, the assumptions they had made because she was different.

Harry could tell something was up with Y/n the last day or so, but he didn’t ask her what was wrong, trusting that she would come to him when she was ready. And while Y/n desperately wanted to confide in him, she felt like she couldn’t, not this time. She didn’t know how to tell her boyfriend that she was worried his family wouldn’t like her because she feared they might be ignorant. Who wouldn’t be offended by something like that?

Y/n squirmed in bed next to Harry, hoping that if she was tucked against his chest she might finally fall asleep. When ten minutes had passed and she still didn’t feel the least bit tired, she wiggled around and faced away from him again, then five minutes later she moved onto her back to stare at the ceiling. When she made to move again, Harry sighed and slung an arm over her waist.

“Okay,” he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep. “What’s wrong?”

He spoke against her neck, his lips moving against her skin. Y/n held onto the hand that was still draped across her middle, her thumb brushing across the back of it. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just jetlag.”

“See I would believe you,” Harry said, sounding more awake now. He moved so that he was leaning over her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “But seeing as you didn’t sleep all day today, and the fact that watching me shop tires you out more than going for a run does—which still baffles me by the way—you should be exhausted, but you are not.”

Y/n pursed her lips. It’s not that she didn’t want to tell him, it’s that she felt like she couldn’t; she was too afraid that her feelings would hurt his own. “It’s nothing, honestly. Go back to sleep.” She kissed him and brushed a hand through his hair and turned onto her side, shutting her eyes tight.

It was silent for a moment, and she thought that Harry had let it go, opting to ask her about it in the morning. It was a rookie mistake on her part, she should’ve known that Harry would never let her go to sleep now that he knew something was definitely up.

She heard him get off the bed and walk around to her side and sat down on the floor. Y/n didn’t open her eyes, but she knew he was there, sitting and waiting for her to acknowledge him. When she finally did open her eyes, he gave her a close-lipped smile that was almost expectant. She closed her eyes again, pretending she hadn’t seen him, even though they both knew she had. Opening them again, she bit back a yelp when she saw that Harry was practically nose to nose with her, still grinning, still waiting for her to talk to him.

She stuck her hand out and put it over his face to push him away, and she felt his grin widen against her palm. She took Harry’s face between her two hands and pushed his cheeks together. He let her gaze at him with his lips puckered out the way they were, his eyes tired but staying open for her sake. “Sorry for being weird,” she whispered, her thumb brushing an eyelash off his cheek.

He gave her another sleepy smile. “It’s okay.”

She let out a small laugh. “I feel like you’re supposed to say, ‘No, babe, you’re not weird. I love you so much.’”

“Oh, sorry. No, babe, you’re not weird. I love you so much.”

“Shut up.” Y/n let go of Harry’s face and flipped over so she wasn’t facing him anymore.

Harry laughed quietly and crawled back into bed so that he was cuddling Y/n into his chest. He kissed her neck and her jaw and her shoulder, his hands rubbing into her sides soothingly. “You know,” he said, kissing her temple once, twice, three times. “If you’re nervous about meeting everyone tomorrow, you can just say that.”

She wiggled around so that she was facing him. It felt weird to have him on this side of her, but she didn’t say anything about it. “Maybe a little.”

“Just a little?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “Should I remind you that I met your entire family after only a couple weeks of dating?”

She smiled at the memory of that very first weekend they spent together. Looking back now, she realized that in any other circumstance, inviting Harry over to her childhood home after only knowing each other for a few weeks seemed crazy. But at the time, she hadn’t thought twice about it. Something about inviting Harry felt right.

“Yeah, and you charmed the pants off of everyone. Myself included.”

Harry’s responding grin was both smug and a little sheepish. “I did, but I also got so shitfaced that I crawled around on the floor and you had to carry me up the stairs so I could sleep in your bedroom. Without you, I might add.”

“Yeah, that would’ve happened even if you weren’t drunk off your ass. I’m a lady, Harry.”

“Mm, I don’t know. I can be quite persuasive.” Harry took her hands in his and kissed her fingertips, then her palms. “Is that really it? You’re just nervous about tomorrow? I know it feels like the whole town is throwing a parade for us or something, but it’s really not like that. And everyone’s going to love you.”

A warmth starting at Y/n’s head spread all the way down to her toes at the sincerity in his voice, which then made her feel guilty for not being completely honest with him. Taking a deep breath, she leaned over and kissed him, moving her lips against his slowly, the same familiar butterflies erupting in her stomach the way they always did when she kissed him.

“It—It’s not that I’m nervous about meeting everyone. I mean, I am, but that’s—it’s not what you think. I mean, I know I’m not exactly the kind of person you might’ve dated or brought home before.” Harry opened his mouth to contradict her, but she kept going. “And I don’t normally care about that stuff, you know that, but I don’t know, it’s like every time I look in a mirror, I notice things. And then there’s this whole other thing, and I didn’t even want to mention it because it’s ridiculous and I never want to hurt your feelings, or offend you or your family, but I couldn’t help—I… I feel like a crazy person, Harry, and I know I sound like one, but—”

“Okay, okay, take a deep breath,” Harry finally said. He knew that Y/n might be a little nervous about meeting everyone back home, for the first time, but he didn’t know that it bothered her this much. Still, he did his best to keep his expression neutral. “No secrets, okay? Not between us.”

It was an obvious thing to say, but it was almost like saying “I love you.” It was a reminder that there wasn’t a single thing they needed to keep from each other, that no burden would be shouldered alone as long as they were together.

“No secrets,” she repeated. She kissed him one more time, almost like she needed it for good luck. “I’m sorry, I don’t know where all of this is coming from. I’m proud of who I am and what I look like, I don’t know why now all of a sudden…” She paused and looked down at where her hands were still holding Harry’s.

“Holmes Chapel is filled with some of the nicest people in the world. The only reason someone might look at you funny is because they’d be surprised someone as beautiful, and smart, and wonderful as you ended up with me.”

Y/n met his eyes, surprised that he knew exactly what she’d been thinking. That was usually her thing. “You’re not mad, are you?”

He wanted to tease her for thinking he would be mad at her about something like that, but seeing the troubled look on her face, he didn’t, opting to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “No, my love, I’m not.”

“Really? Because if you were, I would totally understand. And it has nothing to do with you, or—or your mom and Gemma or your dad. You know how my thoughts like to spiral out of control. And I was just thinking about this one instance with my mom and my great aunt Deborah, and—” Y/n paused, her eyebrows raised, a little confused. “This is usually where you kiss me to shut me up.”

“I thought about it, but I’m actually interested to hear about Great Aunt Deborah,” Harry admitted, smiling when he saw her grin. He understood why she was nervous now, and he was kicking himself for not realizing it sooner.

“Trust me when I say you don’t want to know. She’s a thing of nightmares. There’s a reason no one talks about her,” Y/n said jokingly, but on the inside, she felt relieved that Harry seemed to get where she was coming from. And of course, he would, because he was Harry, and he loved her, and he always understood.

She wrapped her arms around him and held him close to her chest, whispering a small thank you to him. His skin was warm against her cheek, his heart beating steadily beneath. He felt like home when she held him like that. Harry hugged her back, threading his hands through her hair. Leaning down, he whispered, “If someone so much as causes your brow to furrow, they’re dead.”

Y/n laughed, leaning her head back slightly to look at him. “My hero.”

Harry kissed the tip of her nose. “Always.” She rolled her eyes at him, but she let him kiss her anyway. “I love you. Now go to sleep. We’re supposed to get up early tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she nodded, but before she shut her eyes for the night, she asked him one last question. “So no Great Aunt Deborahs?”

“Not a one.” Harry kissed her cheek. “I love you for who you are, and I will defend you against anyone who doesn’t for the rest of my life. Count on that, okay?”

She rolled her eyes. “Well how the hell am I supposed to go to sleep now when you say stuff like that to me?”

Harry’s responding grin was sincere and a little smug. “I’m just telling you the truth.”

Scoffing playfully, she pushed Harry against the mattress and slid on top of him so that she was straddling his waist. Leaning over him, she kissed his neck, his chest, a straight line all the way down to the waistline of his sweatpants. Harry’s breaths picked up as she continued to kiss him, but before she could get too far, he pulled her back up. She kissed his lips, her hands reaching into his hair as she tugged on his bottom lip with her teeth. He groaned against her, his hands finding their way to the backs of her thighs as she nipped at his jaw and moved her own hands down to his waist again.

“Hey, lovie,” Harry whispered into her neck. “Are you sure? We have to be up early tomorrow, and I know how much you hate not getting enough sleep.”

She paused, already halfway down his chest again. “I’m sure, but if you’d rather sleep, then…” She patted his cheek and began to move off of him, but before she had the chance, Harry’s hands were on her waist to keep her where she was.

“I never said that,” Harry said, already tugging her shirt over her head. He reached over to the nightstand by the bed to grab a condom. When he righted himself, he pointed a finger at her. “No complaints when I wake you up, though. Promise?”

“Promise. So…?”

Harry huffed, pretending to be exasperated. In all honesty, he just saw the love of his life, looking down at him like he was the most precious thing in the world. He hooked a finger around the necklace she was wearing and pulled her forward so he could kiss her.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Hey.”

There was no movement from the heap of blankets in the middle of the bed. Sighing, Harry nudged her shoulder, hoping it would be enough. It was not.

“Y/n, my love. It’s time to wake up.”

“No, bubba,” she whined, her voice muffled by the pillow her face was pressed up against.

He tried to hide his grin and nudged her shoulder again. “Yes. Come on, you can sleep on the way there.”

To his surprise, she did move, but it was only an arm and it was just to press her pointer finger on his nose, then his forehead. He let her poke his face a couple times before reaching for her hand and pulling it away from where it was pressing against his cheekbone. “What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for the snooze button,” Y/n mumbled. “I need at least five more minutes.”

Harry did laugh this time. “I gave you an hour. We were supposed to leave an hour ago”

She peeked an eye open. “Did you really?”

He nodded. “Yes, now let’s go. You promised, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was past me. She’s an idiot. Present me is tired and sore, which is your fault, by the way.”

Harry pretended to be offended. “Yikes, you’re extra grouchy this morning.”

He laid back down on the bed, and Y/n noticed that he was already dressed for the drive to Holmes Chapel—a pair of light wash jeans, one of her favorite sweatshirts of his with a coat over it, and a tiny clip, her clip, holding up his hair up in a small tuft on the top of his head. Stretching her arms out, she finally sat up. “I’m sorry, even if it is a little true.”

Y/n took the clip out of his hair and ran a hand through it. For a moment, he leaned into her touch, forever a sucker for when she did that. It was only a moment, though, and then he was sitting up again and pulling her with him. She groaned, but she let him do it anyway, finally okay with the idea of sleeping in the car. He kissed her cheek and told her he made breakfast, then left her to get ready.

It was December, which meant it was freezing outside, even more so for Y/n, who couldn’t stand being cold. She changed into a pair of leggings and a thick sweater she’d bought on one of Harry’s shopping sprees this week, figuring that something from London would be better at fending off the weather than anything she brought from home. Before she put on her shoes, she sat down on the bed, now made up, and looked up the weather in Holmes Chapel.

“You’re kidding,” she groaned, falling back against the bed. A fresh layer of snow had fallen last night, and there was more to come later.

She eyed her little section of Harry’s closet- he promised her that when he had a chance, they would do some renovations to his house so it would be more like their house, but she told him there was no rush—even though she had a feeling he was desperate to get his closet space back and wouldn’t admit it—and saw a pair of jeans hanging up. Y/n stared at them for a while, debating, and when Harry called up to her and asked if she was almost ready, she grabbed them off the hanger and slid them on over her leggings. Getting into her coat and slipping her phone into her pocket, she jogged down the stairs and followed the smell of food all the way to the kitchen. Harry was waiting for her with a plate of eggs, toast, sliced fruit, and a glass of orange juice at his kitchen table. She had yet to try the English specialty of beans on toast, but that wasn’t for lack of trying on Harry’s part. Y/n just couldn’t make herself try it yet, the idea completely bizarre and not very appetizing to her.

She tried to eat her breakfast as quickly as she could so that they could get on the road. Now that she was more awake, she felt bad that she slept in way past when they were supposed to leave. As she ate, Y/n scrolled through her phone, answering texts from family members and smiling a little at the pictures of her family around a Christmas tree. She was happy to be here with Harry, but she missed her family too, especially during the holidays.

Setting her phone down, Y/n looked up, ready to tell Harry she was ready to go. She figured he had been on his own phone while she ate, doing more of the same of what she’d been doing, but he was just sitting quietly with his chin resting in his hand, staring at her. She refrained from rolling her eyes, having grown used to Harry’s tendency to stare while she did virtually nothing. Most times she was convinced that Harry didn’t even realize he was doing it.

“My cousin has a girlfriend,” she said, not addressing the fact that she’d caught him staring at her.

Harry blinked, coming out of his daze. “Really? Who's he dating?”

“I’m not entirely sure, he’s being very close lipped about it. I’m gonna try to call him later and see if he’s willing to say more if it’s just me asking instead of the entire family.”

“Is that how it was with me?”

Y/n grinned as she recalled what it had been like when her siblings found out she was seeing Harry. “Wouldn't you like to know.”

“I would actually,” Harry said, standing up from the table.

Tugging on his hand, she brought him to her lap and kissed his cheek. “If you must know, yes, it was like I was being interrogated over text. Someone had seen an article that had pictures of us holding hands, and they happily shared it with the rest of my family, and then suddenly I was getting calls from family members I rarely speak to on the phone.”

Harry hummed at what Y/n had said and how her hands reached under his clothes to rub circles against his stomach. He remembered how nervous he’d been to go out with her in public places. Not because he was embarrassed to be seen with her, but because he knew that no matter how hard he would try to be discreet, someone would manage to get a picture of them.

Y/n, of course, didn’t mind as much as Harry did, taking the challenges of dating someone with a large following in stride. She held his hand and rubbed it soothingly with her thumb if she felt him start to get tense, and distracted him when he started to notice people pointing phones or cameras in their direction. If he was honest with himself, it was one of things that endeared him to her more than he already was. Y/n was handling a part of his life that sometimes was more than someone could bear, and never did she once hold it against him.

He kissed her then. It was at an odd angle because he was sitting in her lap but it still gave him the same headrush he always got when their lips met. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, a faint smile on his face. “I called my mum after we first met, you know.”

Luz raised an eyebrow at him. “You did?”

Harry nodded, kissing the top of her cheekbone. “Mmhm. I just knew you were someone special . And later that week I got a call from Gem asking about you and saying our hometown was buzzing with the news that I had met someone.”

“I feel like you’re trying to calm my nerves, but you’ve done the opposite,” Y/n tried to joke. After last night, she was feeling a little better about the prospect of meeting all of Harry’s closest friends and family, but now her worries and doubts were starting to creep back in.

He cupped her cheek in his hand. “What I’m trying to say is that everyone already loves you. You make me happy, that’s all they’ll care about.”

Y/n couldn’t help the smile that erupted on her face. She let Harry stand up and pull her to her feet. They quickly cleaned up the kitchen together, realizing that they were super late now. By the time all the dishes were put away, overnight bags were stowed in the car, and they were settled in the driver and passenger seats, Y/n found that she wasn’t tired or nervous anymore. She was just excited to meet the people who helped make her boyfriend the wonderful person that he was.

***

Harry was wandering his mother’s house in search of his girlfriend.

For the first two hours, Y/n had remained so close to his side, he thought she’d glued herself to him. It was an interesting sight to see. In the time that Harry had known her, Y/n had been nothing but outgoing and talkative, making friends with bartenders, Uber drivers, his fans, people she passed by on the street. She always found common ground with people.

But tonight she almost hid behind Harry, letting him do the talking while she quietly listened with her hand tightly gripping his as she was introduced to person after person.

It was when she disappeared into the bathroom that Harry lost track of her. He was waiting patiently outside the door as she had requested when his mother came up to him and dragged him to one of her friends that she claimed he hadn’t seen in ages and just had to say hello. He got caught up in answering all sorts of questions from was he working on new music to when he planned on marrying Y/n. He blushed at that one, and used it as an excuse to leave to go find her.

Except he couldn’t find her. Harry checked and double checked every room in the house, and unless his girlfriend was hiding in a cupboard, he was pretty sure she wasn’t in the house. He moved to searching the backyard, thinking maybe someone had pulled her outside.

Y/n was nowhere to be found in the little backyard, but when he spotted his sister, he walked over, hoping she might know where his elusive girlfriend was.

“Hey, little brother,” Gemma said, waving Harry over to where she was talking to a few of her friends from school.

He waved and gave everyone a small smile. “Hi. Have you seen—”

“Y/n? Yeah, she’s right—Oh, that’s weird, I swear she was talking to Patrick a minute ago about his hip replacement surgery, and then before that to Lisa about where she grew up, I think, and then—”

“She shouldn’t be overwhelmed like that, Gem, she’s supposed to be having fun,” Harry sighed. He was glad she’d come out of her shell with the members of his family, but he feel didn’t want his girlfriend too feel like she was under a microscope, either.

“Oh, relax, Harry. Did you honestly expect to have a girlfriend that’s from America and there not be questions? And it’s not like people are bombarding her. She offered to teach me a little Spanish while you and Mum were out at the store earlier.”

Harry sighed again. He supposed his sister had a point, he just didn’t want people to overwhelm her or only talk to her about where she came from. There was so much more to Y/n than that.

“Relax, Harry. Everyone loves her,” Gemma said, reading the look on his face despite the dim lighting outside. “So have a drink, and try not to think so little of the people you’ve known your whole life, yeah?”

“That’s not—Yeah, alright, fine. Sorry, for being so tense, I just want things to go perfectly. For her.”

“And they have. So take a breath and let yourself enjoy tonight.”

Harry leaned down and kissed the top of Gemma’s head. “Thanks, Gem.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go on and find your bird. And fill my glass while you’re inside, will you?”

He rolled his eyes, but took the wineglass out from her hand anyway. He left his sister and her friends behind and went back into the house. He’d checked every room already, but Y/n must’ve sneaked past him at some point. He walked slowly to the kitchen where the open bottles of wine were, craning his neck around in the hopes of catching sight of a familiar head of hair in a thick knit sweater.

It was when he passed by the slightly cracked open door of the bathroom that he heard her voice.

“—brother pushed me off a swing and I needed four stitches right here. And here, I was playing outside and busted my knee open. Six more stitches. And then when I was playing football, I slid and had a huge scratch on my bum for weeks. Can you believe that?”

Y/n’s words were followed by a fit of giggles at the mention of her scratching her “bum.” It was weird to hear her say that, but when he heard a young boy’s voice, he understood.

“No you didn’t!”

“It really happened, I promise,” she insisted. Harry had quietly pushed the door farther open while she and the boy, his little cousin Joshua, Harry realized, were talking, so he could see that she was tending to a cut on his knee. “And you know what? You can’t even see the scar anymore. So I think you’re gonna be just fine.”

Joshua’s jeans were rolled up past his knee on one side, a large band-aid covering what must have been a scrape. There was peroxide and little scrunched up cotton pads on the bathroom counter; clearly Y/n had taken Joshua to get cleaned up from some kind of fall.

“And if it still hurts, I think if you pout enough your cousin Harry might carry you around the rest of the night. How does that sound?”

She turned her head and winked at Harry. He didn’t know when she’d noticed him, from what he could tell she hadn’t looked at him until now. She’d put her hair up into a ponytail so it was out of her face while she worked, the sleeves of her sweater rolled up past her elbows.

“Hm, I’m okay,” Joshua said, directing both Y/n and Harry’s attention back to him. His eyes were a little red and his lashes stuck together like he’d just been crying. Harry understood then that he must’ve taken a pretty bad fall.

“Well, if you change your mind…” she said, her voice trailing off. She lifted Joshua off the counter where he’d been sitting and set him down on the floor. Before he left, Y/n pulled his pant leg back down and gave him a fist bump. Joshua ran off down the hallway, saying hello to Harry as he went.

Harry leaned against the bathroom door, watching as Y/n began to clean up the counter. Of course she would be helping one of his cousins with a cut up knee. She might have been nervous about meeting everyone tonight, but Y/n loved helping people and talking about her family. He should’ve known that talking about her job was one of the only things that would calm her nerves.

“I heard you’ve become quite the social butterfly,” he said while she washed her hands.

Y/n took a moment to answer while she dried her hands on a fluffy grey towel. When she turned around her cheeks were a little pink. “Yeah, sorry, is that weird? I was so nervous before, but it all just kind of melted away.”

Harry smiled at her. “No, babe, you’re not weird. I love you so much.”

“Shut up,” she laughed, punching him lightly on the shoulder. Reaching for his hand, Y/n played with the ring on his middle finger. “I don’t know, it felt easier to talk to people by just talking about my family instead of myself. After you abandoned me that is.”

“Sorry about that. My mum said there was a friend of hers I had to say hello too. I’ve been looking for you ever since.”

She rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck. “Why do you always do that?”

He looked at her curiously. Y/n sounded annoyed, but amused at the same time. And yet her arms were around his neck and her hands were playing with his hair. He loved Y/n and he loved being in love, but sometimes his girlfriend was hard to read. “What?”

“I try to playfully make fun of you, and you turn it into a loving moment. It throws me off sometimes. I can’t decide whether to hit you or kiss you.”

“Well…I can tell you which one I would prefer,” Harry said. He didn’t know what the problem was; all he ever wanted was to make her smile.

Y/n hummed and went up on her tiptoes so she could kiss him. Not caring at all that they were surrounded by his family or that the door to the bathroom was wide open, Harry kissed her back, setting the wine glass down on the counter behind her so he could hold her with both of his hands.

He couldn’t get enough of her. It was like every time he kissed her was like the last and he had to savor every touch of their lips and brush of his tongue against hers. She whined against his mouth as his hands creeped under her sweater, his hands cold from being outside. They continued roaming anyway as they kissed, eventually finding purchase on the backs of her legs so he could prop her up on the bathroom counter.

“Harry, what are you doing?”

She felt like a teenager as he settled between her legs and held his face in her hands. The fact that anyone could see them like this at any moment was painfully obvious to Y/n, but she made no move to slip off the counter.

“You took care of Josh, but what about me?” he said. “What if I had an injury that needed your special attention?”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes because she knew there was nothing wrong with him, she asked, “Sorry. Is there anything wrong with you?”

“Yeah, I have some pain right here,” he said pointing to a spot on the base of his throat. The same spot that also made Harry’s breath hitch when Y/n kissed it.

Understanding what he meant, she leaned forward and placed her lips against his skin. “That should do it. Anywhere else?”

They spent the next few minutes like that, Harry pointing to areas around his face and neck that needed tending to while Y/n kissed the “pain” away. At one point, Harry glanced down where his belt was looped around his jeans, an inquisitive look on his face. “Absolutely not,” she said immediately, blushing furiously. With one last kiss to the corner of his mouth before she hopped off the counter, she whispered, “At least not right now.”

Harry knew he hadn’t seen his family in ages, and he wanted to catch up with everyone at his mum’s house, but he suddenly wished they were back at his flat in London where no one would bother them.

“We should get back out there,” Y/n said quietly. She knew they should, but she liked when it was just her and Harry, too.

“I know,” he sighed, moving a strand of hair away from her face. “One last kiss?”

She obliged, fixing his hair clip when they finally pulled apart, having taken it out of his hair when he’d lifted her up on the bathroom counter. With one last kiss to her cheek, Harry took her by the hand and led her back to the party.

As they shuffled out of the bathroom, a woman crossed their path. She raised her eyebrows at the pair, but didn’t say a word as she moved down the hallway. Y/n pressed her face into Harry’s side. She didn’t know who that woman was, but she didn’t care. They couldn’t have looked more guilty as they walked out of the bathroom, who knew what that woman thought or what she would say to the other people in the house.

“Remember the embarrassment you felt after waking up and facing my parents after you made an absolute fool out of yourself that one time you accidentally texted my dad a message meant for me? That’s how I feel right now.”

Harry blanched as they walked towards the kitchen. He still had to refill his sister’s wine glass. “Wait, I thought you said he never read it?”

“I didn’t want you to feel bad around my parents,” Y/n said, blushing at the memory. She swung their joined hands back and forth. “And you quickly won them over with your charm and goofiness, anyway. I didn't see the point in telling you.

“Goofiness?” he asked, his mind snagging on the word.

“Yes,” Y/n agreed. “One of the things I love about you is how well you balance the two.”

“Me too. Though my life is much more entertaining when he acts more goofy than charming,” Gemma said. She was sitting at the kitchen table with a couple people that looked her age.

There was a low buzz of assent coming from the table, and Y/n didn’t even have to look at Harry to know he was blushing. She thought if he could hide behind her and avoid the light teasing from his older sister, he would. Y/n thought it was cute how bashful Harry had become; he’d hardly blinked when they got caught coming out of the bathroom together, but here he was, his neck and face flushed as he shuffled behind her the tiniest bit. Y/n was used to every kind of sibling teasing in the book, so she felt right at home with Gemma, but it was clear Harry wasn’t as comfortable about it. At least when it was happening in front of his girlfriend.

She squeezed his hand comfortingly and took the glass out of Harry’s other one. “I think you’re very charming. And sexy. You can blush about that instead, okay?” She kissed his cheek and let go of his hand, finding that he was grinning like an idiot at her. “What were you having, Gemma? Red or white?”

“Uh, red. Thanks, Y/n,” Gemma said, raising her eyebrows at her brother.

When Y/n was far enough away, one of the guys at the table leaned forward as Harry sat down. “She’s great, H.”

Harry tried to hide his smile with his hand. “Yeah. She’s—She’s, uh, she’s everything.” He hadn’t meant to say that, it was a rather embarrassing thing to say in front of his sister and her friends, but that didn’t make it any less true.

“Can you believe it? My baby brother, settled down and in love,” Gemma sighed. Harry was about to tell his sister to shut up when Y/n came back with two glasses of wine.

She handed one to Gemma and one to Harry before perching herself on his lap. “I am kind of great,” she mused, patting her boyfriend on the knee. “And smart. I’m really smart.”

“She is,” Harry nodded, kissing her shoulder.

“That’s brilliant!” One of the girls sitting down at the table said suddenly. Everyone turned to look at her curiously, not sure where the outburst came from. She blushed and hid behind her drink for a moment before collecting herself. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just that Gem and I go to a bar in London and they have these trivia nights on Thursdays, and I just thought-”

“Oh, Emma, you’re a bloody genius, of course!” Gemma said, her eyes lighting up. “Y/n, we’ve been looking for a third member to join our trivia team for weeks, and you would be perfect.”

“I like trivia,” Y/n said, her thumb rubbing back and forth over Harry’s hand affectionately. She had been nervous about her semi-move to England. Excited, but nervous. It would involve a lot of downtime in a place she wasn’t familiar with and where the only person she knew was Harry, but making some friends of her own while her boyfriend had to work was the exact thing she needed. And she knew Gemma already. Y/n didn’t know her friends very well, but she could start with trivia nights on Thursdays and go from there.

“You sure, lovie?” Harry asked. He didn’t want his sister or her friends to overwhelm her.

“She’ll be fine, H. We’ll take good care of her,” the girl, Emma, insisted.

Y/n would’ve been worried about hanging out with them if she didn’t know Harry, and Gemma, for that matter. If she wanted to have a life here, she needed people. She loved spending all her time with Harry, but she knew that they wouldn’t be spending every waking moment together. In fact, she was perfectly aware of the fact that he was putting things off to help her get settled in his London flat. Having friends of her own would ease her mind and his, make him not worry about her constantly when he wasn’t around.

The rest of the night, Harry sat back and watched as Y/n made new friends with his old ones. He remained relatively quiet, content to relax in his childhood home with his girlfriend in his lap and playing with her hair. The sound of her voice as she talked to his sister and all their friends felt like home too, her laugh alone making him smile against her shoulder. He loved how outgoing she was, how much everyone seemed to be as drawn to her as he was. If he didn’t have to be, Harry preferred being on the quiet side and listening more than doing all the talking himself. He liked to leave the extroverted side of him for his performances, crawling back into his shell once he was off the stage.

Y/n was the exact opposite. Anywhere they went, she made friends or started conversations with strangers, commenting on tattoos she liked or asking someone where they got their shoes. But whenever she went to one of Harry’s concerts, she became totally shy, blushing furiously or hiding behind whoever she was with if he winked at her or tried to talk to her from the stage.

Harry knew she had been nervous about coming here and meeting his family, but there was no trace of nerves now. She leaned comfortably against his chest and fiddled with the rings on his fingers the way she usually did when they held hands, talking animatedly about her job, her family, and anything else that Gemma and her friends threw her way.

However, the longer Y/n spoke and laughed and got to know his friends and family, the more Harry wanted her to himself. He loved how much the most important people in his life were all getting along, but by the time the night was winding down and it was time to head up to his childhood bedroom, he was itching to kiss her, to touch her, to be truly alone with her after sharing her with his family for the last few hours.

“You’re so needy tonight,” she joked. She’d been drying off her face when he came up behind her and began nuzzling her neck. Needy or not, she raised her hand and threaded it through his hair, feeling him smile against her neck.

“Wanted to make sure you were extra comfortable tonight,” he mumbled, twisting her around and propping her up on the bathroom counter. He did that a lot—sitting Y/n up on countertops and all sorts of surfaces so that they were more level with each other.

Of the two of them, Y/n tended to be more quiet about her feelings for Harry. He liked to kiss her cheek while they were out, and play with the ends of her hair, and pull her into his lap in front of groups of people, while she was content to hold his hand and save her affection for when they were alone, the only time she did more was when she saw someone flirting with Harry in front of her or if she was completely comfortable in her surrounding. But now that they were alone, she wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

Harry grinned against her and kissed her back, cupping either side of her face and rubbing gentle circles into her skin with his thumbs. “I had a really nice time tonight. Your family’s wonderful.”

“I tried to tell you,” Harry murmured, kissing along her neck and jaw. “Maybe you should listen to me more.”

“Ha!” Y/n didn’t mean to sound so incredulous, but she prided herself on being right, and while she could admit to perhaps overthinking how tonight would go, she would continue to go with their usual dynamic—Harry listening to her.

Pulling back, Harry rolled his eyes and helped Y/n down from the counter. Holding hands, he led her to his room. It was almost exactly the same as when he’d left so many years ago. Posters were peeling off the walls, old trophies and ribbons had a thin layer of dust on them. The only thing that was different was his bed, which his mum had gotten new bedclothes for a couple of years ago.

“Ooh, am I the first girl you’ve ever brought up here?” she teased as she looked around the room.

“Um, I’m not going to answer that,” Harry replied, blushing a little. She wasn’t, but she was the one that mattered the most to him.

Y/n grinned as she unbuttoned her jeans so she could change into her pajamas. “Relax, I’m just kidding. Your mum told me all about your girlfriends at school.”

“Of course she did. I’m surprised Gemma didn’t—Wait, what on earth are you wearing?”

All night, Harry had watched his girlfriend walk around in a pair of jeans, but he never would’ve thought she’d be wearing two pairs of pants, which was what he realized now as she shimmied out of her jeans but was still completely clothed.

“I didn’t want to be cold,” she shrugged, trying to move on before Harry had the chance to tease her.

“No no. We’re not moving on from this. You seriously wore two pairs of trousers tonight?”

Y/n huffed and rested her hands on her fully clothed hips. “Come on, are you really that surprised?”

Harry chuckled and shook his head, both in disbelief and to agree with her. He did know how much she hated being cold, but he never thought she would layer her clothes like this. It wasn’t even that cold tonight.

“I’m worried about how you’re going to handle the actual cold days,” he said, slipping out of his own jeans and getting into bed. He didn’t sleep here very often anymore, and the fact that he was going to do so with the woman he was quite sure was the love of his life was a little odd.

Y/n didn’t seem to have the same thoughts as she quickly slipped off her leggings and got into her pajamas. Harry opened up the covers for her once he saw that she was ready, and she practically flopped onto the bed, latching onto him like a magnet.

He was always cozy and warm, but it felt different during the holidays for some reason. There was a giddiness that came with spending a holiday together as a young couple. They built snowmen and ice skated and drank hot chocolate, but now it was time to sleep under the warm glow of twinkly lights Harry’s mom hung up in his room, and it was absolutely perfect.

“I’m going to shrivel up into a husk of the person I once was, but I will have done it for love,” she told him, giving his chest a quick little peck.

Laughing, Harry pulled her impossibly closer and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I will do everything in my power to keep you warm.”

“I’m sure you will,” Y/n replied, understanding what he meant. “But not tonight.”

“Why?” Harry whined, jutting out his bottom lip a little. He knew what she was going to say before she said it, but that didn’t make him any less disappointed about it.

“Your mom is down the hall, and you’re not exactly quiet,” she said, grinning a little at his blush and the way he mumbled, you’re not either. “So we’re in agreement. Also, there’s a picture of One Direction over there, and I don’t know how I feel about a young you or any of your band mates staring at me like that.”

Before he fell asleep, Harry stared at the ceiling, thinking about how much had happened since he’d properly moved out of his mum’s house so long ago. Never in a million years did he ever think he’d be in the same bed he slept in at sixteen with the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. As he slowly drifted off to sleep, Y/n’s foot lightly kicking him in the shin as she slept, Harry couldn’t imagine that there was anyone on this planet who was as lucky as he was.

She had a point there. While he was away, his mum liked to put up pictures of him to make it feel like he was there. Sighing, Harry settled for cuddling his girlfriend and kissing her until their eyes closed, Y/n’s head resting comfortably on his chest.

#harry styles #harry styles x latina! reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles angst

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sassymajesty · 10 months

Note

Sassy can you sure a bits of the new chapter of only if for a night, pleassssseeeeeeee🥺?

From the corner of her eyes —because she’s still focused on her to-do list and picking out what’s next on it—, she notices Clarke getting up from her seat and making her way up the room until she’s right beside Lexa.

“Hey,” Clarke says, leaning her hips against the desk, so close Lexa can smell the fresh spice notes in her perfume. If her voice is a touch too soft, Lexa makes the executive decision of ignoring it.

“I think I can draft the emails for most departments without having to meet with them again.” Lexa scans the bullet points she had jotted down before the department meeting and compares them with the ones on the pad she and Anya shared during this morning, “I trust you’re good to go with Finances, but I’d still like a paper trail.”

“Let’s go have a drink.”

Blinking through her exhaustion, Lexa looks up at Clarke, sure her brain is playing tricks on her. “What?”

“You, me. Cheap beer.” Lexa watches Clarke’s lips as they move around the words — nope, her brain is still in working order. “Whatever fried food they’re serving now.”

With a glance to her watch, she gets up, bringing both notepads to her chest, and indulges Clarke in this nonsense for a moment longer. “Now. You want to start drinking now? It’s two o’clock in the afternoon.”

“And we had one hell of a morning. You’re so exhausted you won’t even make sense in those emails.” Whatever venom Lexa has in her eyes when she shoots Clarke a glare doesn’t affect her financial specialist. All it does it earn her an eye roll. “Oh, calm down. I’m just as tired and I don’t want to work today anymore.”

“Then go home, have your drinks. I have work to do, Clarke,” Lexa says as she turns on her heels to leave the room, to get to her office, and start catching up on her to-do list.

(The mere thought of putting another six hours of work makes Lexa’s spine tense up, but it’s a feeling she’s used to enough by now to know she’ll survive to tell the tale.)

Clarke blocks her way before Lexa can take another step forward.

She’s so far into Lexa’s personal space that the top of her notepad brushes against the fabric of her blouse.

“Fuck, so do I. But this week needs to end.” The bone tiredness Lexa feels is reflected in those words and she understands the feeling — this week dragged on until they were all on their wits’ end. “And I don’t want to celebrate it alone.”

Trying and mostly failing to hide a scoff, Lexa presses the pads closer to her chest. “What exactly are we celebrating?”

“Making through it alive. And not facing any criminal charges for murdering a shareholder in that meeting. I came pretty fucking close.”

A smile tugs at her lips, the movement seemingly so foreign after the morning they had that her facial muscles fight it. Lexa schools her features and relents. “Fine. I’ll let Gaia and Anya know they can reach me on my phone, then we can go.”

Lexa can draft that email tomorrow morning.

She can let her team have the weekend to rest without any added worry about the countless items she’ll add to their to-do lists for the week — or, well, the next several months. She can go out with a coworker for a drink and have a quiet night in, as if she’s just working a regular corporate nine-to-five and actually has friends in the company. She can even let Clarke be that friend, if only for a night.

“Where are we going, exactly?”

Clarke is halfway out the door when she turns around, worrying her bottom lip in between her teeth. “I was thinking Lincoln and Octavia’s. Is that okay?”

Lexa can only nod.

#it's not much but it's honest work #i haven't written anything for the past month and i feel like i forgot how to #f: oifan #anon #nina's mail #💌

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borathae · 2 years

Text

↳ Index [Snippet #29 - Doodles]

“When Jungkook doodles on your back.”

Genre: domestic Fluff

Warnings: casual nudity but it’s not sexual, kissies, they are so CUTE

Wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: just something short and sweet because i miss them :( also this is a hundred percent a regular thing between those two 🥺🧡

It was a warm summer's night. The opened swing doors let in the smell of ocean salt and the sound of crickets. Your shirts have been off for quite some time as the weather was just too hot for clothes and on your coffee table a finished plate of snacks is waiting to be cleaned up.

Inside you have your vinyl player playing, because Jungkook insisted that using it is peak romance and "tonight is all about romance".

It didn’t actually start off as a romantic evening. You were merely discussing the new tattoo you are planning on getting (Jungkook will do it obviously) when Jungkook had the brilliant idea of practicing its placement.

It started off innocent. Jungkook got the finished sketch while you took off your shirt to make space for him.

Your tattoo was supposed to go on your upper back. Your shoulder blade to be more exact. You told Jungkook to design something related to the coast and he did. Around three inch in size and with the most intricate of details. You loved it instantly.

Jungkook then spent a good hour recreating the tattoo on your back, working quietly while you were shivering in relaxation. Back scratches are your weakness after all.

Romance soon however began seeping into the evening. The tattoo was finished but the desire to doodle remained.

Jungkook put on music and together you created your little snuggle spot on the floor on top of your cuddle blankets and with too many pillows to count.

Jungkook got his skin safe doodle pencils, which he got solely for drawing on your body and then the fun began. He doodled on your back while you relaxed and shivered each time he brushed over an especially sensitive spot and every now and then you could listen to Jungkook sing to one of the songs. It was the perfect evening, it really was.

Almost your entire back is covered by now, serving as a canvas for the most beautiful artworks ever. You haven’t seen them yet, but this was your husband you were talking about here and his doodles are always the most beautiful ever.

"Oh no", Jungkook whispers.

"Messed up?"

"Mh-hm yeah."

Jungkook fixes his mistake by wetting his thumb and wiping your skin. You don’t mind the feeling, not with how nasty the two of you are during your wilder times. A little bit of his spit can’t disgust you.

"What were you drawing?" you ask him.

"Just some flowers, but the stem looks weird. I gotta redo it."

His thumb leaves your skin. He wipes you dry with the help of his pointer finger and then begins drawing again.

The pencil is soft on your skin, sending an enjoyable shiver over your skin. His hand is warm, dancing over your body in snych with the patterns he draws. Every now and then you can feel the tickle of his fingertips as he outlines what he drew to check for any mistakes.

You relax in a sigh.

"Honestly Koo, I could fall asleep just like this", you mumble.

"You know you can, I’ll keep you safe."

"You're talking as if we're in some life or death situation."

"You never know. Maybe a bear randomly appears while you sleep. What then? You’d be happy to have me."

"Really?" you are already snickering in preparation for his silly joke.

"Yeah, cause I’ll be fighting it."

"Of course", you cackle, "cause you'd be able to fight a bear."

"Don't underestimate me. I fought many bears before."

"Did you now?"

"Yeah. There was this one time where Yoongi, Tae and I were camping in the woods and then a bear snuck into our camp and I had to fight it."

"Wow, that sounds dangerous. How come you never told me about that?"

"Because I didn’t wanna worry you."

"Ah I see, obviously", you say, grinning, "you doofus."

"Hey", Jungkook complains and slaps your ass.

"Ah", you gasp, "what the heck babe, that was really strong. My butt hurts now."

"That's what you get", he says, rubbing your butt as an apology, “sorry.”

You send him an annoyed glance, rolling your eyes.

"You'll get that back", you murmur, snuggling back into the pillows.

Jungkook snickers boyishly and returns to drawing his pretty flower.

It will be the last piece of the painting. Jungkook wants to continue, but your back physically has no space left anymore. So he sadly has to make this flower the last doodle, if he wants to or not.

He finishes the stem with a little swirl.

"Done", he says and traces the finished drawing with his thumb.

"Wait. Like done done?"

"Yeah, your back's covered all over."

You huff out air, "I'm sad, I want more."

"Same, but wait”, he slaps your ass again, “I'll take a picture.”

And with that he gets up and hurries to get your polaroid camera.

“Stop slapping my ass, you idiot!” you call after him.

He returns after a moment, “sorry that you’ve got such a yummy peach just out and about. I can’t resist”, he says and sits down on the back of your thighs.

You laugh because he is so silly and stupid and you love him so much.

"Hold still", he says, guiding the camera to his eye.

The flash goes up, the shutter clicks then the purring of the camera printing out the picture.

Jungkook takes it, shakes it twice and places it on the blanket.

"And?"

"Can’t tell yet. It’s developing", he says, lifting his hips so you could flip on your back.

He sits back down, resting his weight on your crotch.

"Stay like this", he says, lifting the camera.

"Kook, I’m not even wearing a shirt", you complain in a giggle, covering your boobs with the help of your hand.

“So? Put your hands away I wanna have boobies”, he says, tugging at your wrist whilst looking through the camera.

“Urgh fine”, you give in, intertwining your fingers with him.

Click.

Jungkook's face reappears. He is grinning brightly.

"You're so pretty", he says, placing the picture next to the first one.

"I am?"

“Yeah so pretty”, he says, leaning down to press a big smooch on each of your boobs. Then a kiss on your left collarbone and a little bite to your shoulder.

“Mhm Koo feels good.”

He hums softly and kisses your neck in a way that it would tickle.

You giggle, fighting him off with a little push.

“Don’t it tickles.”

“Baby”, he coos and chases you.

“Koo please”, you squeak, cackling.

Jungkook chuckles and rolls off your lap to cuddle into your side. You shift and wiggle to find your perfect snuggle position, fighting each other with giggles in your chests because Jungkook is still trying to tickle you. You end up with Jungkook’s arm under your head while you are facing him in the end.

“You’re the worst”, you mumble.

"You're the prettiest", he says, pecking your forehead.

"So are you", you tell him, melting closer.

Your eyes meet. You kiss each other’s lips in a quick peck, feeling tingly. He pulls back with a smile, tracing your cheek with his fingertips.

"Should we take a picture?" you suggest.

"Yeah? Like in a selfie?"

"Mh-hm, we didn’t take selfies in ages."

"We didn’t. Okay, come here baby let's take a pic."

You and him squish against each other. Cheek against cheek while Jungkook is lifting the camera up.

You smile, as does Jungkook.

The flash goes off, the shutter clicks and the camera gives you the picture.

"Another one", Jungkook says and turns his head to smooch your cheek.

"Kook", you squeak in happiness, smiling oh so brightly.

Jungkook takes a picture of that moment. You glowing in happiness while he kisses your cheek.

The picture will turn out a little blurry, but neither of you will care.

Jungkook places the camera next to the photos after taking the picture. He rolls to his side, facing you that way and hooking his arms behind your head.

"You're so cheeky", you tell him, caressing his chest.

"I wanna have a new pic for my wallet. It’s perfect."

"I want a copy too."

"Yeah, you get the other one."

"Wow okay, so you get the really cute one?"

"The other one's cute too. You look so pretty on it."

"You don’t even know how I look on it yet."

"Don't have to, I just know."

You grin, "you old cheeseball."

Jungkook smirks confidently and pinches your cheek softly.

"Wanna see the doodles?"

"Yeah show me."

Jungkook fetches the developed polaroid of your back and hands it to you.

"Wow, Googie", you gasp, "those are all so pretty."

"You think so? I just doodled though."

"I can't even see it. I like them all so much."

Jungkook shies away, even going so far as to nuzzle into your hair. It makes looking at the polaroid impossible, but you don’t mind because you can cuddle Jungkook instead.

"You smell nice", he murmurs and kisses your forehead.

"You too", you whisper and sigh contently.

Tonight is perfect, it truly is.

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takearisk-x · 3 months

Note

Dobnny microfic, i promised Hannah Kelce that I’d send you this. I hope to hear your thoughts. Hope I made you laugh, or feel like multishipping Dobnny 🥺 we are a small fandom but we are MIGHTY.

Dobby’s Confession- by Dobnny anon (should I publish and put it on ao3. Fuck what if I do a moodboard. 😳😳😳😳

Ginny had just came home to Grimmauld Place after six hours of grueling Quidditch practice. All she wanted was to shower and-

"Mistress Weasley, I’ve been waiting for you ever since Harry Potter has left to fetch some food from the grocery.” Dobby, her and Harry's elf friend, popped into the hallway of the abandoned Grimmauld Place.

"Hey Dobby, how are you? Did you find any trouble while Harry and I were gone?" Ginny asked him, knowing that Kreacher had tried to give the elf a hard time while they were away.

"Dobby is doing fine Miss Ginny. I just wanted to inform you that dinner is served in the bedroom tonight,” Dobby blushed furiously as he wrung his hands together.

Ginny blushed back, “Uhm, Dobby I think you have things confused I’m-

"Oh, but no, Mistress Weasley, the dinner is being served in the bedroom," Dobby insisted as he began taking off his sock and Ginny began to panic.

"Wait, wait, don't do that, Dobby. What I mean is... Oh, forget it," Ginny gave up, and sighed. She was going to have a serious talk with Harry about the elves when he got back.

"Dobby has a confession to make, it's been eating him up ever since he heard Master Harry say it," Dobby said as his ears began twitching.

"Harry said what?" Ginny asked.

"Master Harry says he is going to make you moan like a banshee.”

Of all things Ginny thought this was the last thing she would have expected to come out of the elf's mouth. She could only stand there dumbfounded as the elf continued.

"You see, Dobby heard you two the other night through the fireplace. When you were saying how much you enjoyed the feel of the tongue and teeth and then the way you were moaning and screaming. You sounded like you were having a really good time. Harry Potter seemed very proud of himself."

"I was not moaning," Ginny insisted, even though her cheeks were flaming red. "And Dobby, what I had with Harry, well, that is a private matter between me and Harry, and it's not appropriate for you to talk about it."

"Dobby is so sorry Mistress Weasley, but please do not punish Dobby, I just wanted to say that I can’t stop thinking of the words you spoke. It excited Dobby,” the elf confessed.

"You what?"

"Dobby wants to please his Mistress too," the elf said, wringing his hands.

Ginny was flabbergasted. This was by far the weirdest shit she had ever encountered, and she had dealt with a possessed fucked up diary back in first year.

"Uh, listen Dobby, you're a good elf, and I know that you are grateful to Harry and I for giving you freedom and clothes and a place to live, but I'm happy with Harry, and I don't want to do...well...whatever it is you're suggesting-

Dobby only giggled and shook his head. "Dobby does not understand how Mistress does not see the obvious. Harry Potter does not please her enough if she has to ask Dobby to please her."

"What? No, that's not what I meant. Dobby, this isn’t-

"No, Mistress, please I see the way you look at him. But you fail to see the fire in my eyes. Dobby has been watching you since Harry Potter and you moved in here, and Dobby likes the way you walk. And when you sit on the couch. When you read those magazines, and your lips part and your hand touches the page, Dobby smells the magazine every night.”

Ginny’s eyes widened, was that why Dobby always insisted on picking up her Witch Weekly magazine after she was done reading it?

"And you know what Dobby really loves? It's when you wear the tight t-shirts. The ones with the low neck and the high waist. The ones that make Dobby think about touching you."

“No, Dobby this isn’t right, have you lost your shit. Wait did Ron put you up to this because I told Hermione that he didn’t like the pasta she had made him the other day, and-

"Harry Potter has the magic hands," the elf interrupted. "And the magic tongue. But Dobby knows he can do better. Dobby wants to touch you, and he can.”

“Magic- what the fuck are you on about Dobby? Listen, I think I need to go and lie down for a while, and you can tell Harry-

"Oh, yes, Mistress, please let Dobby take care of you.”

“No! Absolutely fucking not.”

“Dobby even made us a ship name-

“What in the Merlin’s saggy left ballsack is a ship name? Never mind, I don't care, I'm just going to go now-

"Please, Mistress Weasley, please, let me take care of you."

"No, Dobby, this is just wrong on so many levels, and-

"It’s Dobnny!” Donny shouted before Ginny could leave the room.

"Excuse me?"

"That's our ship name. It's called Dobnny. Dobby and Ginny, see?"

"Oh, no, no, no," Ginny said, shaking her head and pointing a finger at the elf. "You listen here, you little nutter, there is no us. There is no ship. Or aeroplane, or even broomstick! There is no Dobnny. There is Harry and there is Ginny, and that's it. We are just friends-”

"And Dobby has the magic tongue."

"Dobby, there is no magic-

"Oh yes, there is. Dobby has been practising, and Dobby is sure that he will make you happy. Dobby can show you how he has been practising. On... on a carrot," Dobby squeaked, blushing again.

“WHAT THE FUCK! Is that why we didn’t have any carrots- no-no I’m not even going there, I think I’m going to vomit. Oh, god-

"No, no, no, it was just once, I swear. Just to practise."

"Just to practise, are you serious right now. Are you bloody kidding me," Ginny asked, exasperated.

Before Ginny could end the madness of this conversation, she heard a chuckle. Better yet she heard his chuckle, that git was in here.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, YOU GET YOUR ARSE OUT HERE, NOW!"

She was going to murder him. He had obviously put the elf up to this. He was in the room the whole time, and she was going to make him pay.

She waited in silence before shaking her head, “fine, guess you’ll be getting real close to your left hand-”

“Oi!” Harry shouted, as he shook off the invisibility cloak, and stood there, his hair a mess, his eyes glinting, and his lips twitching with the hint of a smile.

Ginny couldn’t believe he was smiling. She was going to kill him.

“Why are you so angry, Gin? You don’t ship Dobnny?” Harry smirked, his hands were in his pockets as he slowly strolled up to her.

"This is not a laughing matter, Harry! It's not funny!"

“I know it’s not, for a second there I thought you were going to jump on Dobby’s offer when he said magic tongue and magic fingers.” Harry bit back a chuckle as he watched Ginny glare at him.

"Why are you such an arse!” Ginny rolled her eyes, and shook her head.

“Simple. You left told you mum that me and Ron-”

“Your Wheezy?” Ginny corrected making Harry roll his eyes this time.

“Careful now, you know how I feel about redheads.”

“Oh yes, I’ll make sure you stay clear off aunt Muriel, just in case you decide you like older women-”

“Oi! Don’t make me vomit”

TBC?

Scale of 1 to Dobnny OTP, what’s my rating?

🥺

I AM!!!!! SHITTTINNGGG

@corneliaavenue-ao3

#SCREAMING LAUGHING CRACKING UP #anon #answered #DOBUNNY

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variety-fangirl · 8 months

Note

HIIIII!!! How are youuuu?? I was wondering you could write some fluff with Jimmy Keene? I loved ur recent imagine!

You Know You Want Me Sweetheart / Jimmy Keene x fem!reader

Summary: Jimmy regularly visits the bar you work at, you know his order off heart as soon as you see him walk in. For weeks he's been asking you out, begging you to give him a chance. Will you give in?

Warnings: Not much. Teasing and flirting, alcohol, lmk if I missed anything.

Author's note: hello sweetheart! 😁 I am good thank you, I hope you are okay also! Absolutely, of course 🥰 Thank you so much 🥺 it means the world to me. Thank you so much for requesting, I hope you like it and it turned out how you wanted. Just a cute fluffy short one 😁 Thank you for reading. Reblogging, commenting, and liking really helps me out. Enjoy!

Word count: 859

It had been a surprisingly quiet night for a Friday, which was normally filled with people who'd just finished a long shift at work and wanted to relax. But, it was mostly your regulars and a few small groups of people your age happily drinking. You didn't really mind because you hadn't had a break in hours, since your work wife called out sick, there were only two of you serving tonight. The quietness allowed you to clean down the bar, refill the snack pots of nuts and restock anything that needed to be done. You felt more relaxed now that everything was in order and sorted out, just in case it got busier in the next few hours. Which was likely to happen, quiet and bars don't go well together.

And you were right because before long, two large groups of 6+ each walked in. It was going to be another long night ahead of you but you were thankful you got off at midnight. You were just going to keep yourself busy enough that the hours fly by and you'll be home in your nice warm bed before you know it. A shower sounded absolutely divine right now, you could practically feel the hot water running down your skin. You watched as Lisa, your work colleague, took the groups orders with a smile and made her way over to you. You could see the deflation in her shoulders, she looked as exhausted as you felt.

You were just finishing the second tables order of drinks when your favourite regular walked in a large smile on his face when he spotted you. You roll your eyes with a smile as you pass the tray to Lisa and get his order ready, a scotch on the rocks. You place it on the bar on top of a napkin as he sits down in front of you, a smirk on his face as he grabs it appreciatively. "Hello, gorgeous." His husky voice affects you more than you would like it to, causing shivers to travel up your spine. "Jimmy, how very unsurprising to see you." you tease as you wipe down the bar top, anything to avoid the piercing stare of the gorgeous man sat in front of you.

He chuckles deeply, the sound going straight to your stomach. "Awe, were you waiting for my arrival?" he teases as he leans closer to you, a devilish look on his face. You give him a 'really?' look and roll your eyes, "Oh yeah, cause all I do all day is wait for my favourite customer to come visit me." you try to sound as convincing as possible, you actually had been waiting for him, as you did every day. But you weren't going to tell him that. He chuckles, "You know you missed me, princess, I certainly missed you." you tried to hide the warmth in your cheeks as best as possible but a small smile betrayed how you felt, "you're cute when you blush." he complimented with a teasing tone.

He knew what to say to get you riled up, you shake your head with a smile as you poured him another drink. "So, have you thought any more about my offer? Are you finally going to let me take you out?" He questioned smugly, knowing he was breaking down the wall you tried to hold between you both. You raise your brow as you lean on the bar top as casually as possible, "Are you going to stop coming to the bar if I do?" you were secretly hoping he wouldn't, his visits were the best part of your day but again, you wouldn't admit that out loud to him, his ego was already big enough. He smirks as copies you, "Probably not, so is that a yes?" your faces were extremely close and you could cut the sexual tension with a knife.

You lean close enough so that your noses brush and you look down at his lips, "Okay, fine, you can take me out. This Sunday, 8 o clock." you whisper and then pull back as you meet his eyes again, he wasn't the only one who was a flirt. Jimmy's lips are open just a tad and his eyes are lustful as he stares at you, you swear you hear him release a breath. You smile as you walk over to a patiently waiting and smiling Mac, one of your lovely older regulars, to take his order. "Tease!" Jimmy calls quietly with a smile, you look over your shoulder at him with a smirk. "I'm going to make you work for it handsome." He groans in despair, making you giggle to yourself.

But you did not in fact make him work for it because two days later, at the end of your date, Jimmy had you pushed up against the door of his car as he kissed you passionately. By the end, you were both a panting mess, "See, I knew I'd convince you, sweetheart," he jokes before kissing you again. That's when you knew you were a goner, far too hooked to ever let go.

#y/n #fluff #black bird #jimmy keene #jimmy keene x reader

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notwithaste · 1 year

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me for the past few nights: next ep is the one something happens, i can feel it 🤞🏻🤞🏻and tonight i will finally be right 😂 i have a very nice red on the shelf for just such an occasion; and it’s australian, too! (a friend said i might have to wait until the movie so she’s no longer a friend 😌)

ON that bittersweet reaching the end of my journey with them note!

the tennis ep was actually insane. to be fair, me commenting on miss fisher murder mysteries is just me saying they were so insane for this over and over again 😂

no but they were so insane for this episode!

starting right off the bat with jack teasing her with the spider fingers thing was just 🥺 i can see so clearly into the established relationship and it is good. and by the way, what i love most about them is that established relationship phrack is going to be exactly like pre-canon phrack except sometimes they’ll be naked.

and then her finger on his lips; i know you know what you’re doing miss fisher!

alas for the main event, and what if this scene was my last straw 😭

i love how we went from jack not wanting phryne anywhere near his crime scenes to him having the paperwork ready and giving her his childhood badge so they can work together. that’s what we call development, kids. and only a couple of episodes after he gave her that brooch. he’ll never ask her that question and he’ll never give her the ring but boy is he asking all the other questions in all the other ways, and if that paper and that badge aren’t symbolism for a certain kind of lasting union - but custom tailored to the two of them - i will eat my hat!

and can we take a moment to ~reflect and properly consider how fast phryne signed those papers. no hesitation, no questions asked before committing herself to whatever jack was offering. for me, that was such a ~moment; the way her trust in him is unquestioning and absolute.

no but this might be my favourite still of her ever actually:

i can’t stop thinking about it, how she looks at him like he hung the moon and it’s actually incredibly endearing the way she is just so obviously crazy about him 😭 and it’s the way he still seems pretty oblivious to the extent of her feelings is what really gets me. i mean, obviously he ~knows she wants him, she has never been shy about that; and he knows she cares about him, and he probably knows she likes him. but i don’t think he actually realises exactly how head-over-heels in love she is with him (hint: it’s about the same amount he’s in love with her).

and there’s something about the above cap that makes it a sister cap to this one:

the two scenes just give the same energy. phryne fisher, bare faced and smitten with jack robinson.

the internal device scene was comic gold, i am still loling at it moving, at hugh’s realisation, at jack being amusedly unfazed. i mean season one jack would have absolutely blushed and stammered his way through that but our season three jack has had the benefit of miss phryne fisher completely invade his life and that guy is made of sterner stuff 🏌🏻‍♀️

IT’S SO MUCH BETTER WHEN HE DOES IT WITH HIS TEETH line 😭 good grief, jealous phryne is my favourite phryne, i fear. it’s nothing out of control and it doesn’t linger or colour her actions or define their relationship even for a bit; which is what makes it so delicious when she indulges in that moment of asserting herself as the woman in jack’s life. full marks! (also full marks for jack never giving these women but an inch. i love that.)

no but jack’s brain hasn’t had a steady blood supply for two straight seasons now; he is god’s strongest strongest soldier

i suppose the blood supply issue explains my hypothetical above about how the hell does he not see she’s crazy about him 😭

them playing tennis like the couple they are, i hate them actually. their canon relationship game will serve, i know it. (parampapshh 🥁)

anyway, it’s really gonna be the last episode huh they’re really like that 😮‍💨 tbh with this sort of absolutely insane off the charts chemistry and incredible build-up, i can’t say i even mind. i’m not someone who needs to see the day-to-day of an established relationship, and while it would have been great to see them work on a case or two as a couple, to see them bickering and teasing and being them together for a season, i’m equally happy to leave that to fic. the build up is so much more important; the way two people find their way to each other, and honestly with this show it feels so earned.

#miss fisher's murder mysteries #phrack #phryne x jack #phryne fisher #jack robinson #game set & murder

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dreaminghour · 11 months

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alpha/beta obikin teaser

i'm a little tipsy so have a lil something i'm working on.

its wip wednesday my dudes~

thanks to @himboskywalker for allowing me to riff on their fantastic omegaverse fic Conceal Me What I Am

this was born out of reading their fic, loving the fuck out of it, yet wondering: what if obi-wan and anakin were what they pretended to be? what if obi-wan was a beta and anakin was an alpha? what if their dynamic from that fic was the same? 🔥🔥🔥

this scene is not 100% the same but it is LARGELY based on the ballroom scene, so credit is due 🙏

been working on this for a while so encouragement is appreciated - comments/reblogs keep me motivated!! 🥺💕

thanks as well to @mysticmjolnir and @billboguspreston for poking this to make it better

1k words (more or less) and its Safe For Work (SFW = no smut)

~~~

"If you were honest with him, you might find him the kind of alpha receptive to your inclinations."

Obi-Wan cleared his throat uncomfortably. Breha cast cool brown eyes at him over her champagne.

"You needn't worry about me," he said, trying to maintain that poise which served him so well in the Senate but seemed to elude him amongst friends.

"It's not you I'm worried about right now," Breha said.

Obi-Wan followed her gaze to where she was watching her husband place an arm on Anakin's shoulders, seemingly to comfort him — or steer him back toward them.

Obi-Wan was rarely at a loss for words, but as he watched Bail work some kind of magic, finally making the tension vanish from Anakin's shoulders, he could only stare. When was the last time Anakin had been so at ease? Certainly it was before they'd begun to live together. But despite that comforting grasp, the way his shoulders relaxed, Anakin expertly slipped out from underneath Bail's arm as the senator made his way back to his wife and Obi-Wan, thus Obi-Wan's husband avoided returning to them.

"I know we've been friends a long time," Breha murmured, "and I've always stayed out of your romantic life, but I do think you two are a good fit. I know your marriage is political. Believe me though, I know a thing or two about pliant alphas."

Bail smiled as he came back to them, bending to kiss his wife briefly.

"Sorry, I couldn't catch him in time," he said softly to Obi-Wan.

Over Bail's shoulder, Obi-Wan watched Anakin slip through tall windowed doors. No one seemed to notice aside from Obi-Wan.

"Excuse me," he said and then handed his drink to a serving droid as he passed them. He climbed the wide stairs to the colonnade of windows which opened onto the balcony, the city glinting all around them.

"Anakin!"

Anakin's bare shoulders were hunched with the cold, all the ease which he'd borrowed from Bail was gone.

"What're you doing out here?" Anakin asked, his voice low and dark.

"I'm coming to check on my husband," Obi-Wan said lightly, glancing up and down the balcony to see that they were indeed alone.

"We're alone, Obi-Wan," Anakin said, still looking out into the night rather than at his husband. "You can drop the act."

Obi-Wan came to stand an arm's length away from Anakin, admiring the muscular lines of his back where it was bare beneath the sweeping robes he wore. For that brief moment when they'd danced, he'd known how light Anakin could be, how soft that power was when restrained. The fabric had swept around them like mist, engulfing Anakin like a fall of rain.

"It isn't an act, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, sticking his hands in his pockets, smelling the curling disappointment between them on the air. "I care about you."

"You can barely stand to be around me." Anakin laughed, bitterly.

"I like being around you," Obi-Wan said, daring to step closer still, laying a hand on Anakin's shoulder. "I just—"

"Can't give me what I want?" Anakin scoffed, knocking Obi-Wan's hand aside. "You won't even ask me what I want."

For a moment, Obi-Wan stood frozen, balanced on a precipice, which he regarded coolly before throwing himself off of it.

"What do you want, Anakin?" He sounded weary, resigned to the answer which would wreck any semblance of normality for them.

"I want us to sleep together, like husbands do."

His voice was light, something sweet in his tone, making Obi-Wan look up. In the city's darkness, windows and signs casting pale but colorful light, traffic dappling his face and curls, he looked almost fragile, as though he were not really there. Or else could slip away too easily.

He sounded sad.

"Anakin…"

Obi-Wan spoke carefully. For all the weeks they had been living together, sharing some intimate moments, they didn't have experience with talking about things… as husbands would.

"I am not opposed to having sex with you, but you cannot expect me to behave as though I were an omega. I do not have any qualms about being on the receiving end of penetrative sex, but I will not instinctively submit to you. It is not in my nature."

Below the whir of traffic, Obi-Wan could hear Anakin's mechnohand scrape along the duracrete railing of the balcony as he gripped it tightly. His face looked… his expression was unclear in the muted light, but his scent was embarrassed. Obi-Wan turned to peer directly at Anakin.

Anakin's gaze flickered to Obi-Wan before the curl of spice on the air turned sweeter, almost ashamed. Obi-Wan had never known Anakin to be ashamed of anything, not in the news reports of his exploits in the war, nor in the time they'd been married.

"I don't expect you to behave like an omega. I know you aren't. In fact…" Anakin trailed off. "I asked for them to match me to a beta because I know marriage with me wouldn't be normal. It didn't matter when I could marry or fall in love…"

"What is normal?" Obi-Wan asked, taking another step closer to Anakin.

"I know what people expect of me," Anakin continued, as though he hadn't heard Obi-Wan, "alpha, hero, Jedi. Most of the time those things are easy to be. Before I was married I never had to worry about how I would be with someone, making love. Those things didn't factor into it, because it was private. But now that I'm someone's husband…"

Anakin raised his gaze slowly and even in the dim light his cheeks were visibly flushed.

"It's alright," Obi-Wan soothed, bringing a hand up to cup Anakin's chin.

With a sigh, Anakin leaned into the touch.

"I've never talked about this with anyone really. It's a little embarrassing."

"You can tell me," Obi-Wan whispered, for all that he was still terrified this would ruin what they had. He was a practiced politician; he exuded calm and Anakin drank it down.

"Alphas are supposed to be assertive, that's fine when I'm a general on the field, or even a jedi on a mission, but I don't—"

Lightly Obi-Wan's touch wandered down Anakin's neck, bringing his fingers to rest against his pulse.

"I want to be fucked," he croaked. "I want you to make love to me. I know that's not normal for an alpha, but it never bothered me."

~~~

that's all for now!

this is about half of what i have written, oh my lord. a reminder that comments/reblogs/asks are extremely motivational 🥰 i hope you enjoyed!!

if you want more teasers/snippets, or to know more about an au, feel free to ask!

Thank you for reading ♡ fic log → @dreaminghour-archive

#wip stuff #omegaverse #obikin #dreamy does fic #alpha beta obikin au #wip wednesday

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sangoqueenkoko · 1 year

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ROSARIA

new beginning

Fluff

MAIN MASTERLIST | CRYO MASTERLIST

Summary: you have just moved to Mondstadt, and at your new job at The Angels Share, you meet someone.

Warnings? Small mention of alcohol. No alcoholism. But. This is my first written thing in a while, this is for an event, I’m trying :,)

This song helped.

Contains a mention of Kaeya, Diluc, and Rosaria of course!

Sorry this is short! I wanted to get it done 🫡🥺 (May rewrite in the future at some point.)

From new acquaintances to friends, to best friends and then more than friends, you and Rosaria definitely had a certain connection between the two of you.

From the second you entered Mondstadt’s for the first time, you were blown back, no pun intended, by the scenery and architecture by the land of the wind. You had read that it’s famous for its Dandelion Wine. And, admittedly, you were sort of eager to try it for yourself after hearing others mention it.

The reason why you came to Mondstadt was because you wanted to get away from (pick a nation that isn’t Liyue or Mondstadt), try something different from what norms that you’re used to. You found a nice and cozy house. Albeit a little bare to start with, but that’s because you were starting from scratch, make a new living. And in order to gain more things and make more memories, you decided to look for a place of work as soon as possible. Gotta keep that Mora flow smooth.

Amidst looking around if anyone was hiring, you came across someone by the name of Diluc. And you gathered from the start was he was fiery-headed. And he was more than happy, even if he didn’t show that expression, to take you in to try out the job at his bar, The Angel’s Share. And let’s just say that in the first few days, you knew stuff about him already. Like to never mention the passing of his father… and don’t mention his so called brother. Kaeya.

Speaking of Kaeya.

You first met him at the Angle’s Share, he came in with a bard, whom you met when you not long walked into the city for the first time, and then,… you swear it was love at first sight,

Rosaria.

You maintained eye contact for a moment. Diluc cleared his throat, which broke the connection. To stay with the good first impressions, you stayed with the job, yet you served her red wine for a change, which she of course ordered. She wanted to try something different for once.

“Thank you” she smiled before taking a sip. It was a little obvious that she was interested in you. You smiled with a nod and went on with your job.

She even gave you a little tip.

A little while later after this situation, I’m talking a few weeks later, you two got talking. You both fit your schedules together so you could hang out, and you soon found out that she works nights? You were a little confused as you couldn’t recall any places with night jobs. One day you were up early, and to keep up with the perfect attendance, you left home early.

Only to run into Rosaria. She was calm about it and explained the situation. Which was to keep an eye around the city for trouble, which you thought the knights would do, as in the knights at the gates. But you were cool with it. You found it cool. Just another thing to love about her. And that made her like you more.

Because you don’t judge her for whatever she does, job wise or drinking wise.

This only made her realise it was harder to confess her feelings for you.

Maybe at some point in the future.

#[redacted]#gender neutral reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact x you #rosaria #rosaria x reader #rosaria fluff #rosaria x you #rosaria headcanons #genshin impact x reader

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