#like I know girls I row with who lift more than that . which I always find funny | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delulujuls · 21 days

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saudade | as12

funny how you can miss someone you never met, right? my heart was aching today a lot and i cried even more while writing this so yes, it is long and it is sad, so you decide if you wanna read this or not. if you do, please enjoy if its even possible to enjoy bawling your eyes out lol

oh ayrton, you will always be missed

summary: during senna's funeral y/n has flashes of their shared past and what they could have together

warnings: for sure its intense, 5.6k words of pure sadness, thats it basically

pairing: fem!mclaren!driver x ayrton senna

It was a warm, pleasant day. The beginning of may didn't disappoint with the weather at all. A light, warm breeze swayed the flexible branches, on which fresh leaves were green. The sun was pleasantly warm, but it wasn't unbearable heat. Birdsong could be heard, but so could crying. On this day, mourners outnumbered the blossoming buds on the trees.

A crowd of people had gathered in front of the church, but it was nothing compared to the crowds still on their way. Everyone was dressed in black, and the only point of color in the black mass was a yellow dot, which from a bird's eye view resembled a sunflower petal, thrown onto the black, fertile soil. It was a helmet, a yellow racing helmet, which no one gathered there needed to be introduced to. In trembling hands, a young girl held it, never once moving it away from her chest. She held it against herself so tightly, as if she wanted to feel the warmth emanating from it, but it radiated coldness, like the inside of the church she was about to enter, barely able to keep herself on her feet.

Inside the chapel, it hadn't yet become crowded; the military made sure that the family and friends entered the church first. Inside, there was a grave silence, broken only by the occasional blowing of noses into tissues or a stifled sob.

The girl was aware of what was happening, she knew where she was and why she was there. However, her brain stubbornly avoided connecting the dots and completely pushed the facts out of her consciousness. If it had, she would probably have thrown the held helmet deep into the church, and it would have stopped only when it hit the wooden, solid coffin. The girl's gaze never once lifted towards her.

"Y/N, can you hear me?," the girl flinched when Ron's words reached her for the umpteenth time, "You know you don't have to be here, we can be outside."

The girl blinked several times, and at that very moment, her brain stopped pushing away the facts. Ron held her arm, his eyes swollen, his face even redder than usual. She herself pressed the helmet to her chest, so tightly that only when she moved it away from herself a little was she able to fully breathe. She raised her eyes and looked around. She stood in the front row of benches, where at the very top, just in front of the altar steps, stood the coffin. A large, carefully ironed Brazilian flag lay on it, its freely hanging ends touching the fresh flowers lying beneath it.

"Y/N…," the man began again, this time quieter. He saw tears in the girl's eyes, and he was about to continue, but she pressed the helmet tighter to her chest and started walking forward. She only moved the helmet away from herself when she placed it on the coffin. Y/N fell to her knees and began to sob, pressing her forehead against the hard lid. However, the lid of the coffin wasn't the only thing that separated her from her friend. The worst was death.

It was a brisk february morning. Silverstone Circuit had not yet woken up, there was no deafening roar of engines in the background, and the smell of burnt rubber didn't hang in the air.

Although it wasn't a race day and only a handful of people were milling around the facility, unlike the tens of thousands who usually flooded in for the weekend races, this day was expected to be exciting and full of emotions too.

Certainly, it was so for the 23-year-old Theodore Racing driver, who, sitting in the passenger seat on her way to the circuit, nervously picked at her nails. However, she should now be referred to as the "former Theodore Racing driver" because on this day, she had a test day at McLaren, with whom she signed a contract two weeks ago. In the past two months, the girl's life had changed dramatically. A few days after her birthday, she became the European Formula 3 World Champion, winning the title by just one point. One! The fact that she was so young and the only woman to rise so high meant that many people had their eyes on her and followed her every move. However, most people who hadn't seen her driving at over 200 kilometers per hour thought that being a woman automatically disqualified her from the sport. Ron Dennis, the head of McLaren, was familiar with her skills, though, and seeing how well she performed in the lower levels, he decided to take a risk and give her a chance. One of his proteges, however, wasn't so sure about this decision.

"Girl? You want to replace Prost with a girl?"

Senna, upon hearing the candidate to replace Alain, who, after five years of dealing with him, decided to quit and move away from McLaren, only shook his head.

"Yes, that's exactly what I plan to do," Ron lit a cigarette and shifted his gaze from the car to the disgusted face of the Brazilian, "Maybe she'll calm you down a bit. It's a miracle I found anyone to take Prost's place, no one wants to work with you!"

Ayrton snorted and shook his head again, unable to believe that his boss wanted to do something so idiotic. Silence fell in the garage, none of the mechanics intended to interrupt their conversation. Just like everyone else in the team agreed with Ron that it was a miracle to find anyone willing to take Prost's place, the same majority couldn't imagine a woman starting to race in Formula 1. Especially alongside a driver like Senna.

"A few races, and she'll quit on her own," the Brazilian muttered, "You'll see."

"Pray that she likes you and wants to race for us."

When the car stopped in the gravel parking lot, the girl got out and put on her sunglasses. Tom, her manager and a close friend of her father, just glanced at her and rubbed her back. He knew perfectly well how stressed she was. No one would be prepared for so much in such a short time.

"Everything will be fine."

"You don't have to say that."

He sighed and just pointed with his hand towards the entrance to the facility, letting her through the glass doors. He didn't convince himself too much. Shortly after, after receiving the appropriate instructions, they reached the paddock. Here, the sun didn't glare in her eyes, so the girl took off her glasses, looking around. An empty Silverstone was something unheard of.

"Good morning, welcome, good to see you,"

Ron, standing in front of the garage, as soon as he noticed the girl, broke off from the conversation with one of the mechanics and smiled at her, shaking her hand. She showed up for the tests, so he thought she deserved a shot. Maybe this would work.

The girl made an effort to smile and nodded at him. Fortunately, she didn't have to engage in a conversation with him because he was immediately engaged by her manager. She was glad that in moments like this, someone else could spare her from meaningless chatter.

"Good morning."

She greeted, approaching the car where a few men were working on the wheels, wing, and cockpit. Some of them spoke up, while the rest just nodded at her. She immediately felt unwelcome, and barely a minute had passed since she appeared in the garage. However, this was nothing new to her, she would lie if she said she was surprised. But the most important thing for her was that Ron treated her as an equal, or at least didn't make her feel like she didn't belong here. That gave her a sense of comfort. She didn't need a crowd standing behind her; she only needed two people who had her back.

The girl slowly walked around the car. The new, ready-for-the-season MP4/4 looked very good. Next to the car marked with her number stood another, practically identical, differing only in the number painted in red on the front.

However, the owner of the car was nowhere to be seen, at least not in sight. Y/N hadn't had the opportunity to meet Ayrton personally. The drivers' presentation with the car was scheduled for the end of the month, so it was quite likely that until then, she would have time to mentally prepare herself. She knew Ayrton from stories; she could watch his battles both on and off the track on television, the domestic war he waged with Alain Prost which ended with the Frenchman's departure to Ferrari.

Y/N knew she would have to face many things, one of which was Senna.

"Ready?"

Ron's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, he held a helmet and jumpsuit for her in his hand. She nodded and took the items from him, going to change. When she returned, she took her place in the cockpit, and after some time, when everything was ready, she followed the instructions and took her place on the track. She took a deep breath and clenched her hands on the steering wheel, staring at the start lights. When they went out, the girl sped off with squealing tires and the roar of the engine.

Ron and Tom stood next to each other, watching her movements on small monitors. After some time, the mechanics also began to glance at the monitors, seemingly more interested in whether she hadn't crashed yet than in her results. What surprised them was the sight on one of the displays showing her current lap time, which now stood at 1.38.412 seconds. Ron smiled and shook his head in amazement. The young girl was incredible.

The car itself wasn't handling badly. Besides feeling like a huge boat, to which she was definitely too small, it was actually a well-engineered machine. A few more laps, and she should be able to tame it completely. Although this fact was reassuring. When the girl spotted the checkered flag, she obediently pulled into the garage. She turned off the engine and unfastened her seatbelts, but she didn't get out of the car or take off her helmet because Ron was already beside her, hugging her tightly.

"Young lady, you flew in that car!" The man helped her out of the car, and she took off her helmet and balaclava, taking out the earplugs. "I told you, you did amazingly. Unbelievable lap time, great driving."

The girl wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and blew a strand of wet hair from her forehead.

"It's a really good car, sir."

"A good car without a good driver is just a good car, and a good car with a great driver is a masterful car," Ron shook her hand again, "Brilliant job."

The girl returned his smile, and when she glanced at Tom standing a few steps away, he was also smiling, his smile was the kind of "I told you so."

Y/N gave appropriate feedback to the mechanics and strategists, who now seemed to pay attention to her significantly more than when she first appeared in the garage that morning. Their faces still tried to remain impassive, but nevertheless, they noted everything she had to say. When it was all over, the girl went to change. She washed her face with cold water and looked at herself in the mirror, clenching her hands on the cold sink. She did it.

When she managed to cool down and calm herself down a bit, clutching her helmet under her arm and holding her jumpsuit in the other hand, shortly after she left the bathroom. Suddenly, she bumped into someone, and that someone turned out to be someone she sincerely didn't want to meet that day.

"Watch where you're going."

Senna muttered, holding a lit cigarette between his lips. He gave her a quick glance and disappeared through the doorway, his jumpsuit rustling as he walked away.

The girl squeezed her helmet tighter under her arm and returned to the garage, putting things back in place. After receiving the last praise and handshake from Ron, she said goodbye and left the paddock with Tom. Ayrton pretended to be too busy preparing for the start, so he didn't honor her with even a single glance. When he heard Ron praising her driving, he only snorted under his breath and shook his head. When the garage fell silent again, Ayrton took his place in the car, getting ready to drive.

"1.38.412"

Senna looked up when Ron spoke above his head.

"1.38.412," he repeated calmly, "The lap time of a twenty-three-year-old after her first drive in a Formula 1 car."

The Brazilian snorted and lowered his gaze, putting earplugs in his ears.

"I hope you'll be better than the girl."

Ayrton didn't hear his words anymore because he put on his balaclava and helmet. He didn't believe the girl had achieved such a lap time. And even if she did, it only spoke of the car's capabilities, not her skills. Senna hoped he would be faster by at least a few seconds. He had been racing in Formula 1 for almost five years; he was incredibly fast, and above all, he was a man!

When the tests ended, and he returned to the garage, satisfied with himself and his driving, the first thing he did was to look for Ron's reaction, wanting to see his expression when he rubbed his nose in it. However, the Brit looked at him indulgently, and Senna, not knowing what he meant, quickly tried to free himself from the seat belts. The Brit simply turned the monitor towards him and pointed with his finger at something that, according to Ayrton, was a big mistake.

Between him and the girl, there was a difference of a few seconds, indeed. But Ayrton was slower.

When Senna freed himself from the car, hastily took off his helmet and balaclava, and removed the earplugs, he was about to say something when Ron stopped him, pressing a cassette to his chest.

"Here, watch it tonight and see how the twenty-three-year-old beat you."

Ayrton squeezed the cassette in his hand and only watched him leave, unable to utter a word. It was some kind of absurdity!

Absurd or not, Senna spent the evening in front of the TV. He sat on the couch, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He frowned and carefully watched the recording from the camera placed in her cockpit. He saw how she aggressively entered corners, braking as late as possible, and how quickly she stepped on the gas when the centrifugal forces stopped working. He took a drag and blew smoke from his mouth, rewinding the tape from the beginning, just as it ended. The recording lasted twenty minutes, and he watched it for the seventh time, counting each lap on his stopwatch. Every time, the result was the same.

He couldn't wrap his head around what she had done, but he decided to consider it just a stroke of luck. She had a better day; he had a slightly worse one. Moreover, it wasn't the testing session or even the qualifying rounds that determined the winner, but the race itself. Driving on an empty track without rivals wanting to take your position was one thing, but racing in a competition where everyone wanted to beat you was a completely different matter. If someone had told Ayrton then that four years later, that girl would shed tears at his funeral, he would have told them to fuck themselves.

Y/N felt a strong arm around her waist, trying to lift her. Ron's heart broke seeing her in such a state. However, he couldn't help her even if he wanted to.

"Y/N, please…," he began, but she shook her head, overcome with tears. Wet stains of tears were visible on the flag covering the coffin. The girl was trembling all over, it was a miracle she could breathe. Since the accident, it seemed like Y/N was handling the tragedy very well, just being sad and quiet. No one had any idea what was yet to come. Everyone who saw Y/N by the coffin, this sight of a broken girl, felt nothing but sympathy. The bond she had formed with Ayrton seemed stronger and much richer in emotions than any he had with any of his partners. Ayrton wasn't just her teammate, he wasn't just a friend or sometimes her biggest enemy. From the very beginning, Y/N mattered to him, and if he said otherwise, he was simply lying.

The official skills assessment test for the girl was scheduled to take place less than three weeks after her first visit to the McLaren garage. Now, however, an official presentation awaited her at the reception hosted by the team. One evening at the company headquarters, a banquet was held, attended by far more people than initially anticipated. Most of them were journalists who had to announce to the world the phenomenon that was a woman at the top level of motor racing.

"It's more crowded here than I thought," the girl admitted when she entered the team headquarters with Tom by her side.

"Everyone is curious about you. There are even a couple of journalists from Australia, believe it or not," Tom said.

She looked at him in shock. "And they flew here specifically for this presentation?"

He smiled and nodded. "They'll be talking to kangaroos and kiwi birds about you," he joked, trying to lighten the mood. And it worked because she giggled at his words. However, her smile faded when she noticed Ron talking to Ayrton and two other men in suits.

"Everything will be fine. You did well on the tests, so you'll do well here too," he said softly, rubbing her arm when he noticed her expression.

"There weren't any sharks in suits and piranhas with cameras there," Tom was about to add some words of encouragement when Ron spotted them and raised his hand with a glass in it, trying to get their attention. They approached him, and he greeted them, introducing them to the directors. Ayrton, standing aside, was mindful of how many people were now watching him and wondering if his new teammate would share Prost's fate. However, the Brazilian had no intention of making an effort for gestures he didn't intend. Nevertheless, courtesy demanded it, so he extended his hand, which she hesitantly shook.

"Senna," he said, his Brazilian accent strongly evident in his last name. "Welcome to the team."

The girl introduced herself as well, but it was hard for her to maintain eye contact. Not because he was almost half a head taller, but because of the confidence emanating from him. It was his team, his place, and his time, and she was just a guest. There was no room for discussion.

Fortunately, the awkward situation was soon interrupted as the drivers and management were invited onstage. Ayrton gestured for the girl to go ahead, and she began to walk in front of him.

"I hope you don't grip the wheel as weakly as you do hands," he murmured behind her, quietly enough so no one else would hear, but loud enough for her to hear his words.

Y/N lowered her gaze, feeling a wave of heat wash over her. Even if she wanted to respond, she couldn't. He caught her completely off guard.

As they stepped onto the small stage, they stood behind one of the cars prepared for this season. The girl intertwined her fingers behind her back and straightened up, standing next to Ayrton. He might play his stupid games on her, but she had no intention of showing that she would easily give in. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and almost believed that his comment had gone unnoticed, but her cheeks were flushed. Normally, he would probably snort under his breath, but now he kept his composure.

After a few words from Ron and the board members, the floor was given to the drivers. The two of them remained on stage, each with a microphone in hand. Now it was time for the media, for their pressing questions and burning issues.

Ayrton sat relaxed, almost bored. His legs were bent at the knees, slightly apart. One hand was around his waist, resting his elbow on it, holding the microphone in the other hand. He answered questions briefly and to the point, not dwelling more than necessary. His attire alone indicated that today's banquet was just a formality; he wore a suit, but instead of a shirt, he had a white T-shirt, and on his feet were sports shoes.

Despite her best efforts not to stress out, Y/N was far from as calm as Ayrton. She sat up straight, one leg crossed over the other. Although her red dress practically touched the floor, she glanced occasionally to make sure nothing was out of place. She felt like every move, even the smallest one, was being watched and analyzed. She felt she wasn't focusing on the content of the questions but on how she appeared.

The girl blinked several times, trying to find a sensible answer to the question that had been directed at her a few seconds ago.

"Could you repeat that?" she asked, feeling a bit embarrassed about her inattention. Ayrton, however, heard the question well.

"I asked if you think you're good enough to compete with men or if you're just here for publicity? Racing is still a male-dominated sport, and it seems like you're just trying to prove something rather than compete," the man in glasses squeezed the voice recorder in his hand and looked at her expectantly. Seeing her confusion, he sighed, "I see you're not too bright, so let me ask directly - do you really think you belong here? Do you have what it takes to keep up with the boys on the track?"

The girl panicked a little; this question completely threw her off guard. Emotions overwhelmed her, and she couldn't utter a word. But there was someone who could speak and had an exceptionally sharp tongue.

"I see that, Mr. - again, for whom are you writing?" Ayrton spoke up, furrowing his brows.

"John Ruffleck, Guardian."

"Ah, of course, the Guardian," the man clicked his tongue indulgently. "Clearly, you are the one that didn't shine with intelligence, asking last year's Formula 3 world champion if she fits in here." Y/N was shocked to hear that Ayrton stood up for her. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Despite still sitting calmly, the Brazilian was ready for a verbal battle. "If I fit in here, then the 23-year-old who set a better lap time than me during the tests also fits."

Ayrton bluntly silenced the journalist, who merely muttered a quiet "Thank you" and lowered his head.

Several more questions were thrown in by Ayrton, steering the conversation away from sexist undertones. By the end of the conference, there were no more questions about sexist issues. The drivers got up from their seats, and Y/N turned off her microphone, placing it on the sound table as Senna did the same.

"Thank you," she said, looking at him. He also looked at her, but this time his expression didn't express annoyance or boredom, as it did two times before when their eyes met.

"Don't thank me," he said, taking two glasses of champagne from the waitress. "You are allow to drink, right?" he asked before handing her one of them. She nodded and took the glass from him. "Don't thank me, just learn to counter such nonsense. If they're rude, we can be rude too."

Y/N took a big sip of champagne. Her mouth was dry from nerves.

"I don't want to be rude, it's not proper," she said.

"Not proper?" Senna scoffed. "Because you're a girl?"

"Because they'll think poorly of me"

"Do you really care what that bunch of idiots thinks?"

The girl lowered her gaze. Ayrton was right.

Did she really care? She was a driver; she was supposed to deliver good results. She wasn't supposed to please the audience.

She was about to reply when Ron approached them, cursing the Guardian journalist's stupidity. He was so caught up that he didn't even notice Ayrton sending the girl a final glance and then finishing his champagne, taking out cigarettes from his back pocket, and walking away towards the exit. Y/N only watched him go. At that moment, neither of them had any idea how much she would learn from Ayrton, or that he would gladly take on the role of a teacher himself. No one would have even thought of it then.

When Ron managed to lift the shaken girl, she reached for her helmet again and pressed it to her chest. When she looked up, across from her, on the other side of the coffin, she saw a man in a wheelchair. Frank Williams looked at her in silence, but his gaze was apologetic, his face sad, and his eyes looked like he hadn't slept for days.

"Why?" Y/N whispered, but she wasn't sure if anything managed to leave her lips. Williams didn't need to hear her; her eyes said it all. Even if he couldn't hear her question or look into her swollen, tear-filled eyes, he would know perfectly well that she blamed him for his death. "Why, Frank? Why?" Maybe even more than she blamed God.

"If you can hold on to me for longer than five seconds, I'll let you pass," Ayrton said, exhaling smoke. He sat on one of the crates outside McLaren's garage, wearing sunglasses. The weather for the upcoming race looked exceptionally good, but Senna wouldn't mind rain.

"Are you challenging me?" the girl asked, squinting and looking at him against the light. They were sitting outside, where it was quieter, as the mechanics worked inside the garage.

"Why would I?" the man chuckled, taking another drag. Seeing her uncertainty, he offered her a cigarette, trying to reassure her with his gesture.

Y/N took the cigarette and inhaled the smoke, which tickled her throat, making her cough. She wrinkled her nose and after a moment handed him back the cigarette.

"Don't you want to test my braking skills and eliminate me from the race?"

Ayrton laughed and shook his head. "So, I do have a bad reputation after all."

"Definitely not the best," the girl said softly, smiling uncertainly. Ayrton playfully nudged the crate she was sitting on with his foot. He genuinely liked this girl; in fact, he could and wanted to work with her. Now he was even willing to let her win the race if she showed that she could keep up with him. She had demonstrated many times that she could drive at an exceptionally high level, so Senna was willing to show some humanity and let her achieve her first victory, especially on home turf. He stubbed out the cigarette and stood up, taking off his cap and placing it on her head, pulling it down over her eyes.

"Five seconds," he repeated, walking away as she adjusted the cap on her head.

The girl decided to take up the challenge, realizing that such an opportunity might never come again. Ayrton and collaboration? They were complete opposites after all. Y/N, who started the next day from the last place on the podium, managed to fight her way up to second place at the beginning of the race. She spent the next forty laps chasing after Ayrton, wondering if there was any point in chasing him if she couldn't overtake him. Seeing his familiar helmet in the side mirror, Ayrton smiled. He added a bit more throttle and began counting to five, but the girl's car didn't seem to be falling back. When the agreed time was up, much to everyone's disbelief, both on the track and in front of the TVs, Senna slowed down and obediently let her pass. Unable to believe her own eyes, the girl pressed the gas and took the lead, crossing the finish line with him.

She only believed in her victory when Ayrton offered her his hand and helped her onto the podium.

"Five seconds," he said, smiling at her.

"Five seconds," she replied, returning the smile.

How much she would give to see Ayrton again, even for five seconds. To be able to hug him for five seconds, see his smile. Five seconds now would last like an eternity, for which she would pay any price.

The church was filled with people, mostly family and friends, individuals directly connected to Ayrton. The remaining people were outside, surrounding the church, also gathering along the main road. There were talks of crowds, thousands who came to bid farewell to their hero. They too would give much to see Ayrton even for five seconds. Whole, alive, before the Imola accident.

Y/N held the helmet on her knees, looking at it with vacant eyes. She ran her fingers along the edges, tracing the stickers and sponsor names. She squeezed the soft padding inside. She closed her eyelids. Five seconds.

"Necessity is the mother of invention," Ayrton said, loud enough to make the girl jump. She was barefoot, wearing shorts and a bikini top, with his helmet on her head, visor down. She waved a piece of cardboard towards the grill, trying to ignite it better and not wanting the smoke to get in her eyes, deciding to use whatever she had at hand. And hoping Ayrton wouldn't get mad that she used his helmet for this.

The man smiled and shook his head, placing the wood he held in his hands next to the grill. Standing next to the girl, he lifted the visor and looked into her eyes. She looked at him apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"It suits you," Senna interrupted, smiling. "Possibly even more than me."

"Do you think so?"

The man nodded. His hair, damp from swimming in the lake, fell onto his forehead, and his brown eyes sparkled. Ayrton had been looking at Y/N like this for some time, in a way that many would describe as tender. Certainly, the girl wasn't just a teammate to him, as who would invite a teammate to their hometown to meet their closest family. Certainly not Ayrton.

"I love you, Y/N,"

He confessed as he lay on the jetty, gazing at the starry sky, where there was no trace of the hot Brazilian sun anymore.

The girl laughed and took a sip of beer, lying next to him and leaning on his arm. Both were drunk, so she was sure Ayrton was joking. However, when his confession was met with silence and he turned to look at her, his face was deadly serious.

"I mean it, Y/N. I love you,"

"You can't love me, you have a girlfriend," she replied, still laughing. There was no way he was serious.

Ayrton got up and without a word, kissed her, wanting to prove his words. When he pulled away after a moment, there was no smile on the girl's face. He was about to say something again, but she touched his cheek and returned the kiss, and he pulled her closer, holding her tightly in his arms. That night, they would find out how much they meant to each other.

Senna meant a lot to the girl, there was no doubt about it. He also meant unimaginable things to all those who took part in the funeral ceremonies, not only in Brazil itself but worldwide. It might have seemed like the world had lost an incredible man, someone who in life had already become a legend. Who would have thought that this living, almost mystical legend was just a man? A man who is mortal. Surely no one looked at Senna that way. Certainly not Frank Williams, who eventually decided to agree and accept Ayrton into his team, bearing an incredible burden now. Senna was supposed to lift his team to great heights, and his tragic death dealt a blow, not so much personal as it was business-related. However, at that moment, that mattered least.

Y/N and Ayrton sat at the kitchen table, eating a late dinner in silence. They were in their shared home in Europe, but for the past few months, the walls of the house seemed to be becoming more alien with each passing day. The atmosphere was as thick as it is now, when none of the people sitting at the table even bothered to steal a glance.

"Why didn't you tell me you wanted to go to Williams?"

The girl asked, stirring the contents of her plate with her fork. Ayrton tightened his grip on the glass and took a few sips from it.

"Ayrton-", "Why did I have to tell you?" he entered her words and looked at her, "Just to make you try to stop me?

Y/N blinked several times. She was shocked. She had the impression that the man sitting opposite was a complete stranger and someone she had never known before.

"To stop you? I'm your girlfriend, I should be the first to know about your plans, not hear from strangers."

"Did it change anything? Did something happen that you didn't find out from me?"

"Yes!" she shouted, slamming her hand on the table. She was so done with all of this. "I'm fed up with you treating me like an enemy for several weeks!"

"Don't you dare raise your voice at me!" he stood up, leaning over and pointing his finger at her. "You have no idea how much I had to do to get that offer, how much it cost me!"

"I have no idea, because you don't tell me anything!" she also stood up, pushing his hand away, which he was aiming at her face, "Fame has gone to your head, you're acting like a complete idi-" She didn't get to finish because Ayrton slapped her across the face. He didn't realize when his open hand met her cheek. Y/N grabbed her cheek and looked at him in shock. At the moment of the strike, he also seemed to snap out of it, as if he had been hit himself.

"Y/N, I'm sorry," he said calmly, trying to approach her, but she backed away a few steps, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that."

"But you did," she said with a trembling voice, tears welling up in her eyes, "I don't recognize you anymore, Ayrton".

As the funeral rites began, the last thing on Y/N's mind was their recent arguments, of which there had been plenty lately. Nonetheless, since the incident when he raised his hand to her, Senna understood he had crossed a line. The only upside of the whole situation was that they had started talking again, and Ayrton had come to realize that Y/N was not his enemy. Yes, on the track, the girl might be someone he now had to defeat even more than usual, but she was still his friend, his girlfriend, his partner. Speaking of partners, many women appeared at the funeral, but four of them spent exceptionally long periods by the coffin. They had a lot in common, yet none of them deigned to exchange glances. Each of Ayrton's partners, even today, on such a dramatic day, looked at her as if she were an enemy. Viviane made sure none of them sat on the bench where the family was seated. Y/N belonged to the family. She didn't intrude, Ayrton invited her himself.

"Maybe you should take a break?" Sid Watkins persistently tried to persuade Ayrton and Y/N to withdraw from the upcoming race. "Two weeks, you'll come back to Monaco in better shape, with lighter minds."

Senna sat on one of the crates behind the Williams garage, elbows resting on his knees. Y/N repeatedly wiped her tear-streaked cheeks, trembling hand holding a cigarette. An hour ago, the qualifying session for tomorrow's race was interrupted by Roland Ratzerberger's serious accident. The man was taken to the hospital, but many said he was taken from the track already dead.

"This shouldn't have happened, there shouldn't have been talk of such an accident," the girl repeated, almost hysterical. She was in tremendous shock, having witnessed the accident herself as she was the one who followed Ratzerberger's car.

"They need to cancel the race," Senna said dryly, his gaze fixed on a point in front of him. "We can't race here, not after something like this."

"And if they don't cancel?" Sid looked from Ayrton to Y/N. "Will you race in such a state? You won't sleep over this until tomorrow."

"If they don't cancel, we'll race for him. I'll drive the best I can to honor him with a victory," Ayrton decided, raising his gaze and looking the doctor in the eyes.

"You like fishing, right? Why don't you go back to Brazil, catch some fish, relax. If you want, I'll come with you, I could use it too."

Senna rubbed his face with his hands, intertwining his fingers and pressing them against his lips. Again, he fell silent. He knew they couldn't not race; he certainly couldn't afford to tell Frank after months of effort that he wouldn't start tomorrow. He couldn't do that.

"I don't want to race," Y/N admitted, shaking her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Ayrton, he, Roland-" the man rose without a word and hugged her tightly. He enveloped her in a strong embrace, stroking her hair. Watkins saw that Senna was thinking intensely. And no matter what he said or did to convince him to skip the race, he would do it his own way.

"Think about it, Ayrton. Just think about it," he said one last time. Senna looked him in the eyes and nodded in silence.

Late in the afternoon, Ayrton and Y/N returned to the hotel. They didn't talk much; Y/N occasionally wiped her eyes with a tissue. Ayrton held her hand a lot. When they lay in bed, Senna laid on her stomach, wrapping his arm around her waist. The girl began to run her fingers through his damp hair.

"I don't want to start tomorrow, Y/N," he said softly. He was facing away from her, she couldn't see that he was crying too. "I have a bad feeling."

"You know nobody can force you to do it," she said calmly, her other hand stroking his cheek. "Maybe Watkins is right? Let's fly to your parents, spend time with the kids. It's been two months since you've seen them."

"I can't," he said, wiping his face with his hand. "I can't, nobody needs a driver who doesn't race."

"Ayrton—" "Just hold me," he interrupted, sitting up. The girl obeyed his command, sitting between his legs and hugging him tightly. Both were silent; Y/N tenderly stroked his head and tense back.

"This will be my last season," he said, not moving an inch from her. "I've done enough; I don't need more. I want to focus on something else, on more important things."

"On what, my love?" she asked gently, still stroking his hair.

"I want to be a dad,"

Senna surprised her with this confession. The girl smiled.

"Would you like to have a son or a daughter?"

"A daughter, oh, how I'd love a daughter," he said, pulling away to look at her face. "Would you like to have a child with me? And become my wife?"

Y/N smiled and nodded. "You know I would."

Ayrton returned her smile and cupped her face in his hands, kissing her deeply.

"Te amo, querido,"

"I love you too, Ayrton. And i will always do."

"And i will always do," Y/N said qiuetly, watching as the coffin slowly descends into the ground. Nothing can destroy such love, certainly not death.

#f1 imagines #f1 #f1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 oneshots #f1 imagine #ayrton senna #ayrton senna x reader #ayrton senna x you #as12 #classic f1

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signedkoko · 6 months

Note

I loved the mammon headcannons you did! Could I possibly have mammon x fem reader where she’s in the crowd at one of his gigs and he sees her getting flirted with so he pulls her up on stage and just starts making out with her and maybe telling everyone that she’s his?

Sorry for all the info

Mammon X Reader [Romantic]

In which you are supporting him at one of his new shows, and some of his fans get a little too comfortable with you.

In the same way you both met after one of his shows, you now went to practically every major or new performance he did to support him

I mean, it was free for you and you always got in the front row, so why not !

He always thought it was a bit cheesy seeing you in some old merch from your first show, cheering him on like some rando, but it also made him far more excited to get on and show off

Make the misses proud

Oh, and hes also an attention whore when it comes to you but that's besides the point

Usually you were more than safe, because most people could recognize you and connect the dots of how dangerous it'd be to even smile in your direction

But the lust ring performances always came up with some kind of issue

Mammon is a professional, he knows nothing in the crowd should catch him off guard or alter his performance

But god, seeing some good for nothing imp pushing up against you made him want to jump off stage then and there

You handled it with a swift punch and some security, and he figured that'd be it, but tonight it seems you were a freak magnet

Moments later, some girl was holding onto your face and trying to grab your waist

No fucking shot

In moments, you were lifted by a giant black spider leg, which had jutted from his back in your direction

Everyone was in awe, some still speculating it was performance, some wondering if you'd somehow pissed the performer off, others taking pictures of hell's most unexpected couple

" For those lousy fucks out there who think that have a chance with this lady, raise your hands so I can come fuck your shit! "

He was dead serious, but you were laughing at the stupidest threat known to man

Unfortunately you quickly became apart of the act, dipped in his arms and lips locked together

Most the crowd went absolutely wild at the display, while you were turning red with a blush

With a pop! his purple and orange tongue slithered its way out of your mouth, several strands of saliva falling onto your shirt while he licked his lips

" See you in the changing room after this, babe. "

Not even the courtesy to turn of his mic, he made sure everyone knew just how serious you were

Author's Note - I felt that making reader his s/o would make this make a bit more sense so I added that detail! I hope you still enjoy it and thank you for requesting!

I also imagine when he lifts her up from the crowd that its like one of those images of someone holding up a cat by the scruff

#koko writez #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel x reader #helluva boss x reader #reader insert #x reader #mammon #mammon x reader

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kimbappykidding · 10 months

Text

Hot things about Exo that drive you crazy

Xiumin - How he handles people who under-estimate him

Your boyfriend was the king of surprising people. He had a youthful face but was nearly 33. He was chill and quiet but a world-famous kpop idol. He looked sweet and innocent but was cheeky and incredibly powerful...which one jackass found out.

You and Xiumin went to the gym together often because he didn't always have a lot of free time and every minute counted. Lately, a new guy had started coming to your gym and he was so annoying. He'd take up more space than necessary, thought he knew better than anyone and always liked to give the female gym goers in particular tips about what they were doing wrong. Xiumin hadn't seen him before as he'd been touring recently but you pointed him out to him the second you walked in together. Xiumin kept an eye on him but had no problems...until the guy appeared at his machine and started watching him. Xiumin could tell the guy had something to say but purposefully ignored him, not wanting to give him any attention...however that didn't stop him.

"Are you are you should be using this machine?" the guy asked and Xiumin looked at him "what makes you ask that?". "Just it's for proper body bulders not softer guys". Xiumin bit back his comment and smiled "I'm fine thanks" but the guys didn't let it go. "No but if you hurt yourself I'm the one who will have to save you". "Is there an issue here?" you asked coming over and Xiumin shook his head "don't worry it's all good" and put some more weights on his machine. "Come on little guy, you don't want to load too much on just to try and look good in front of a girl" the man said. Xiumin looked at you and nodded "you're right I do want to look good in front of her" and he put more on. The guy kept telling Xiumin he wouldn't be able to do it all the way up until Xiumin lifted the bar effortlessly above his head. The man's jaw dropped as he did 15 perfect reps and then set the bar down. "Hey Y/n can you hold my jumper?" he called taking it off and revealing his huge arms. "Sure thing babe" you called back and smirked as the guy's jaw dropped again.

He watched Xiumin do 30 more sets, just to be sure of course, and then interrupted. "Hey I'm so sorry, you just look so cute and tiny. I never thought you'd be able to lift that or have a girl like that" he admitted. Xiumin laughed "hey it's cool man, I mean it's not like you can control your thought rights?". "Yeah exactly!" the guy said but Xiumin shook his head "wrong. You can control your thoughts with enough will power and now I know what's going on in that head if I ever see you looking at my girlfriend again I'll show you just how not cute I am". "Hey there's no need to get testy" the guy said but Xiumin wasn't done. "Actually there is, let's say you are too weak-brained to control your thoughts that doesn't mean you say them out loud. You keep them to yourself instead of forcing all of us to listen to you. You seem to think we all want to hear you but we don't!" Xiumin said "so why don't you do everyone here a favour and find another gym huh?". The guy saw a member of staff just watching and looked at him "are you going to let me talk to him like that?". The member of staff remembered how just earlier today the man had knocked over a row of yoga blocks without picking them up, never rolled up his mat and ignored all the signs asking gymgoers to tidy up after themselves. "Yeah I am" he replied and the guy stormed out.

You rushed over to Xiumin and hugged him. Xiumin assured you he was okay but that wasn't why you were wrapped around him. "Okay that was hot" you whispered in Xiumin's ear and you felt his tension go from anger to something else. "It was?" he asked and you nodded "Incredibly hot, I love it when you tell assholes off. It always puts me in the mood...but you have another 30 minutes of your workout regime to do so guess I'll just have to wait" you said sighing dramatically and went to move away before Xiumin caught your hand "I think I can cut it short today". "Really?" you asked "but I know how important getting a good workout is for you". "Yeah well don't worry, I'll be getting a good workout, we both will" and you couldn't even pretend to fight it anymore.

So the two of you left hand in hand with huge smiles on your faces. Very keen to get home and start the home workout you had planned.

Suho - How he doesn't care what people think

Suho would do anything for you and you meant anything. He did not care what the task was or how it made him look, if you wanted it, he'd do it. Once when your dog lost her toy in a fountain Suho just dove right in and retrreied it for her. He didn't care he was wearing expensive clothing or surrounded by people all watching him. You needed something and he got it. Then another time he got photographed while on a tampon run for you. You worried he'd be mad but he couldn't have cared less and when you pressed him on it he simply said "why would I care about what people other than you, my family and the guys think?" and you felt like the most special person in the world to be included in that group.

You still had no idea how far Suho was willing to go for you though until one night...

You and Suho were at a nice fancy restaurant for your 2 years anniversary and everything was going great...until you realised there had been some food on your chair before you sat down. It was brown-coloured too and had a strong resemblance to something you really didn't want on the back of your dress. Of course, you noticed right after you'd paid and were about to leave the restaurant. Neither you nor Suho had jackets because it was summer and to get to the exit you had to pass rows and rows of tables all pointed at you. You knew a few people here too and really didn't want them seeing you like this. Suho suggested shielding you with his body as you walked but you knew that would look so odd. Suho could see you were getting really stressed and came up with a solution.

"Okay here are the car keys, wait for my signal and go" he told and he hurried off before you could ask what the signal was. So you sat wondering what on earth to go when you heard an almighty crash. You, and everyone in the restaurant, turned and you gasped to see Suho covered in some spaghetti and red sauce, surrounded by a ton of broken plates and a very pink waiter. The waiter was apologising profoundly while Suho told them it was okay. You were staring in shock before Suho saw you and motioned to the door. "It's fine really!" Suho said and pretended to slip on some sauce and fall back into the trolley, spilling more food. You couldn't believe Suho would go this far for you and hurried from the restaurant. Nobody even batted an eyelid at you and you made it to the car still in shock.

10 minutes later Suho appeared wearing a t-shirt and shorts that weren't his with a white bag which you assumed contained his clothes. He got in and sighed "phew I'm ready for home!". "I'll say" you replied "what was that?". "What was what?" he asked before nodding "oh that? Well you needed a distraction and I was more than happy to give it". "But you hate breaking social conventions and embarrassing people". "Yeah but I hate you being upset more" he replied and you blinked. Suho the most polite, kind soul in the world would cause a scene in a nice restaurant just so you didn't feel bad.

You kissed him and Suho blinked "what was that for?". "For doing that for me, it was really sweet and I honestly very hot. Not a lot of guys would be willing to utterly embarrass themselves for their girl". "Well I'll always do it for you" Suho said and he leaned in to kiss you again before wincing as his arm brushed the seat. "Suho what's wrong?" you asked looking at his arm before gasping when you saw a cut. "Your poor arm!" you cried inspecting it and Suho shook his head "it's fine..." but you weren't having it. "No it's not! We're getting you home where I can clean your arm and then we're taking a shower" you said putting the car into gear. Suho nodded happily before one thing stood out to him "you said we're taking a shower". You nodded "that kiss got cut off a bit prematurely right? Figured we could make up for it in the shower if you wanted?". Suho sat up straighter and nodded "yep! And feel free to skip any red lights you want to get home". You laughed shaking your head "slow down, what's the rush. I said you'd get a reward and you will, just sit back and relax". Suho looked at you with a smile and did as you said.

You'd never seen him tenser in your life...but you more than made up for it.

Lay - His innocent face when he's doing something bad.

Lay had a very chilled personality and a very beautiful innocent face to match...but Lay was far from innocent and he caused a lot of trouble for you with that combination.

Lay loved to tease you, especially when other people were around. His favourite trick was to rest his hand on your thigh or lower back when you were talking to someone. He'd tap his fingers against your skin or rub circles and just drive you crazy. He'd always shoot you an innocent confused look when you stared at him but you knew he knew what he was doing and that made him even hotter.

As he got more confident he started doing it around his members. You were eating with Exo one night when you noticed Lay watching you. You weren't sure why until you felt someone's foot budging yours. You soon realised it was Lays as he was sat across from you and kicked it away playfully but it just came back and started making it's way up your leg. Your eyes widened and you stared at Lay sure he wouldn't be doing something like this but he just smiled slightly and carried on eating like nothing was happening. Then when his leg got to a certain height you couldn't take it. You jumped, kicking the table and nearly gave Baekhyun a heart attack as he fumbled with his drink. "Jesus Y/n don't do that!" Baekhyun said and you gasped "I'm sorry!". "What's wrong?" D.O. asked and you shook your head "nothing my leg just fell asleep" and Baekhyun shook his head at you but Lay was softly smirking.

After that you decided to pout and not speak to him but when you all moved to the living room to watch a movie Lay actually got Sehun to swap seats so he could sit next to you. When you still didn't respond to him he hovered over your shoulder "are you mad at me?" he asked softly and you nodded "yes". "But I didn't do anything wrong" he said shaking a hand around the back of you where the boys couldn't see. "Yes you did" you sayd and elbowed his hand away. Lay sat back but wasn't done that easily. He could see how tense you were and knew you wanted him.

So he waited for the movie to start and then asked Suho for a blanket which he spread over the two of you. Lay had purposefully left his hands out so that when he touched you, his hands were cold making you jump. The guys noticed you move and Baekhyun laughed "leg fell asleep again?". "Something like that" you nodded and put your hand over Lay's to stop him from moving it. All he did instead was move closer to you, pulling you onto his knee. You tried to ignore the feeling of him pressed up behind you and focus on the movie but it was so difficult. You released Lay's arms and he wrapped them around you burying his head in your neck. "Lay!" you whispered and he looked at you "what? The movie's scary Y/n and you're my comfort person" and buried his head kissing your neck. You were torn between wanting Lay to continue and not wanting the guys to see anything.

Finally, 30 minutes later Kai paused the film for a bathroom break and you sprang up to go get a drink from the kitchen. Lay of course followed you and you ambushed him as soon as he walked through the door. You pushed him against the door and kissed him hard. You got all your pent-up tension out and let your hand wander over Lay the way he'd been doing it to you. Lay loved it and was soon panting and gripping you tightly. When you could feel him getting desperate you pulled away and he blinked his eyes open. "Want to go upstairs?" Lay asked and you smiled pretending to consider it before shaking your head "nahhh you're getting punished not rewarded. I hear the movie's 3 hours long so have fun thinking about what you did" and you strode back into the living room and purposefully took a seat sandwiched between Suho and Chen.

Two could play this game and Lay's pouty lips were your best reward.

Baekhyun - How everyone wants him...but he only wants you.

Baekhyun was hot and everyone knew it. He also wasn't shy and that meant he attracted a lot of attention from everyone within a 50-mile radius who was attracted to men. You knew Baekhyun was a flirt and didn't mind him flirting back with other idols for one important reason...he was yours.

So part of you loved to see the effect Baekhyun had on other people. Watching people stare after him and get giddy when he spoke to them made you realise how in-demand your boyfriend was. You knew it was petty but you just couldn't resist it. It also had an added layer as the two of you weren't out as a couple and couldn't be together in public. So nobody but you and Baekhyun knew what this was all about and it made you feel so special to have him as your precious secret and because Baekhyun knew you liked it he did it even more.

It was almost like a game and you watched as Baekhyun entered the party with his Exo members and noted who was watching him. A few people called out to him as he passed and he waved to them before heading to the bar. Baekhyun smiled as he passed you and you tried not to react. It took 5 minutes after Exo sat down for some people to join them at the table. The girl in question purposefully sat on Baekhyun's right and you saw her trying to get his attention. He eventually humoured her and started chatting to her. She blushed as he said something and then burst out laughing patting his arm. Some of the people were so obvious in their attraction to Baekhyun but you couldn't blame them, your boyfriend was sexy as hell.

Then the Exo boys got up to dance and Baekhyun managed to lose the girl but two more appeared on the other side of him. "Aren't you going to go out there and compete for him?" your member, who knew you were dating Baekhyun, asked. You smiled "why compete when you've already won?" but did join in the dancing a little later and caught Baekhyun staring at you, past some girls dancing in front of him. His gaze always reassured you and made you feel like the most desirable person in the world. Baekhyun just had that effect on you.

Baekhyun loved seeing the glint in your eye and the pride on your face and when he couldn't take it anymore he came over to you. "How it's going ladies?" he asked addressing all your members and they all gave him responses before his eyes fell to you "Y/n?" he asked sinking into a seat next to you. "How are you?". "I'm good" you said "I enjoyed watching you having fun. Seems like you're quite popular". "I am" Baekhyun admitted "women like me but I already have a gorgeous one I'm crazy for". "Yeah but they're all gorgeous girls too" you replied "she can't be that special". "She's the hottest, funniest, smartest woman I've ever met so yeah she's that special" he said and you smiled. "Speaking of, I miss her so I'm gonna go head home to her". You all said goodbye to Baekhyun and 10 minutes later your member passed you your coat.

The second you got outside you were swept into someone's arms and Baekhyun's lips were on yours. You kissed him back happily and when you separated kept your foreheads pressed together. "Hi" Baekhyun said and you giggled "hi". Baekhyun saw your flushed cheeks and smiled "I can't believe this works for you every time". You shrugged "I like to feel special and you make me feel special, is that so bad?". "No not at all" Baekhyun said kissing you again before pulling you towards a taxi so he could get you home. "Plus it's funny to see how far you're going to push it...sometimes I think you like to push it so I'll punish you", Baehyun smirked widely telling you, you were correct. "What on earth gave you that idea?" he asked and you laughed. "I can see right through you" you whispered "and I know you're mine". "I am" Baekhyun said with a huge smile on his face "so what are going to do with me?". His timing was perfect as always as his apartment came into view. "Why don't we go find out?" you replied.

Chanyeol - How quickly he can change from cute to hot

Chanyeol knew pretty much everyone in the idol business and being a likeable boy, he had lots of friends. So whenever you went anywhere bubbly idol Chanyeol made an appearance but your Chanyeol was never far away.

Your car pulled up to the event and Chanyeol hesitated, searching his phone for the ticket. Chanyeol didn't need the ticket to get in, he'd get in because he was Chanyeol, but you thought it was sweet how he never assumed and still got his invite up. "You ready?" he asked turning to you when you'd found it and you nodded but Chanyeol could see you were unsure. "You look beautiful Y/n" he told you and you paused sighing. You were a stunt-woman and had gotten bruised on a stun slightly so were worried you didn't look your best. "Are you sure?" you asked "because I can always go home if people will ask about my appearance". In response Chanyeol kissed you "the only thing people will be talking about is how fucking hot you look in red and how lucky I am" he said and together you stepped out of the car. You were still blushing from Chanyeol's comment but he was now waving at fans and beaming at the staff. He had his cute face on but when he looked at you, you saw that falter slightly and he shot you a smirk and a wink before waving to the crowd once more. Only you got to see the way he looked at you and you loved that.

Once you got inside the party Chanyeol was in his element, surrounded by all his friends and colleagues. He chatted to them all and of course included you in all the conversations. Even when the conversation was about something work-related, he'd hook an arm around you or play with the texture of your dress just to let you know he was thinking about you. Chanyeol lived to make you feel special and it was so sexy.

The party passed in a blur and before you knew it you had to leave to do some quick errands. The two of you were waiting for your ride but everyone that passed said something to Chanyeol and he knew them all. You were amazed he could actually be friends with so many people but your boyfriend was just that friendly! "I can't wait to get home" Chanyeol said and you nodded "yeah I need out of this dress and into something comfy instead". Chanyeol smiled "I can help you get out of that dress" and you paused taken aback by how quickly his voice changed. He could say something like that and make you tense up with anticipation in seconds.

Before you could response a couple came over to say goodbye. They knew each other from school and the guy couldn't believe Chanyeol actually remembered him but that was Chanyeol's charm. "Have a great night, say hi to your parents for me!" Chanyeol called waving to them as they walked away before moving back in "how about we skip the dry cleaners and just go home?". You paused "but don't you need that for tomorrow?". "I do but I need you more" he replied and the whiney note in his voice made you nod "okay yeah let's go" and you tugged him towards the exit. Chanyeol laughed but didn't move "easy tiger we've got to wait for our car remember?" he asked showing you the screen of his phone with the taxi. You groaned "this is why we should always bring a car". "To be fair the driver's 2 minutes away, we wouldn't have got home much quicker". "Yes but we could've used the car!" you said "you have blackout windows" and Chanyeol froze "I never thought of that". You could practically see the plans forming in his head. "I've got an idea" he said whispering in your ear again and you were desperate to hear what he was going to say when Red Velvet appeared and Chanyeol turned into big brother mode.

He insisted on picking up Yeri tomorrow because she had no ride to av event they had and Yeri turned to you "is he always like this Y/n? So sweet and kind?". You smirked looking at him "he is but he also has a darker side" and all the girls "ohhhed" while Irene frowned "as in bad boy side?". You paused "more sexy side" and Chanyeol went bright red as all the girls laughed. As luck would have it, your taxi had just pulled up outside and so Chanyeol separated you from the girls and got you in the car. "Can't believe you told them about my sexy side" he whispered to you and you laughed "why was it a secret? All I'm saying is your company needs you to star in a kdrama yesterday!". The taxi driver asked directions and Chanyeol told him before turning back to you with his sexy mode on. "The only person I want to perform for is you" he said and you smiled "good point, you still haven't given me a show of your latest comeback song". "Sir are we heading to the dry cleaners or home?" the taxi driver and this time Chanyeol didn't turn his mode off. "Straight home" he said never taking his eyes off you "I've got the show of my life to star in".

D.O. - How he commands respect without even raising his voice

Now you were only human, so you did find it quite hot how none of the Exo members messed with your boyfriend. Even Baekhyun fled after causing any trouble and you quite enjoyed the power he held. He might not be the tallest or strongest but he was the scariest and that was so goddamn attractive!

This thought occurred to you anytime you were around the guys and on this occasion, you were on holiday together. The guys did have some filming to do first though and you were relaxing in the sun while they worked and found yourself watching them. They were debating where would be best to film and Kai suggested somewhere but the manager said they shouldn't in case they got a tan. D.O. immediately objected to the idea of dark being bad (because it's not) and argued until the shot the video in the sun. Then in between takes Baekhyun found a water gun and began squirting the other members. He wasn't even aiming at D.O. but when your boyfriend turned around Baekhyun flinched and you smiled at D.O's confused face.

You could see the guys scheming though as Baekhyun whispered to Chanyeol and Sehun and knew he was planning something but so did D.O. When the director called cut Baekhyun turned to squirt D.O. but he was ready and he simply picked Baekhyun up and dumped him kicking and squirming into the pool. It was hilarious and you laughed along with the others then D.O. also pushed Sehun in who dragged Chanyeol and it was even better! The guys were all slightly in awe as were you but D.O. just shrugged it off, giving his mic to the staff and walking over to you. "Want to go on that walk?" he asked you and you nodded "yeah let's go" and walked away feeling like a very proud girlfriend.

It wasn't even his members who reacted this way to D.O. As you walked down the street vendors called out to you but not with the typical cheesy lines. Instead, they greeted you both professionally and addressed him as sir and gentleman. You stopped off at a jewellery stand because D.O. saw you looking at it and once again the man deferred to D.O. and treated both of you with the upmost respect. You got a good deal for the bracelet you liked and a beautiful bag to put it in and you suspected it was because the man didn't dare try anything with D.O.

As you left you wandered to the beach and you curled up next to D.O. You were affectionate but this was more than usual and D.O. smiled "if I knew it would make you this happy I'd have bought you 5 bracelets" he said. You smiled shaking your head "it's not the bracelet it's you". "Me?" he asked "why what have I done" and you explained everything you'd witnessed. "You're just so strong and have such a presence, it's so hot! You don't even realise either and that makes it even hotter you're a natural-born commander". D.O. was impervious to most things but your compliments always broke him and he smiled at you happily. "Really?" he asked "you like that about me?". "A lot" you agreed staring at him and D.O. smiled "well how about we go back to the hotel and I intimidate the guys a little more and then we disappear somewhere together". You jumped to your feet and held out your hand for D.O.'s "let's go!".

It was an incredibly fun business trip/holiday.

Kai - The way he looks at you

Now when most people think of Exo Kai's best feature probably don't think of his eyes. The go-to is probably his hips which move like butter, his chiselled abs, golden tan or his pouty lips. All things which people imagine they could get a lot of use out of but your favourite feature about your boyfriend was his eyes and they could drive you as crazy as any other body part.

Kai wasn't a rookie idol, he'd learned to perfectly shape his face into a mask no matter his inner feelings and so he had to be subtle when he teased you in public...for that he used his eyes. You could be across the room at an award show and you'd feel his gaze on you and blush. Or you'd be at a dinner with friends and he'd catch your eye across the table. He'd smile and tilt his head to the side and you'd know what he meant. His eyes conveyed it all and when they asked if anyone wanted dessert you both said no. Kai also used his eyes to make sure you were okay whenever you were at public events. It was just a slight softening of them and a small nod and you'd know what he was asking and feel so reassured by him.

So you adored Kai's eyes but he had no idea about this. One day you were with the Exo members and somehow Kai's body had come up as a topic. It was lighthearted and they were just debating which body part of his they would take if they could. You were leaning against Kai, his arm around your holding you close when they turned the topic to you. "Y/n what do you think Kai's best feature is?" they asked. You'd just gotten back in the country today so were a little sleepy and replied "his eyes" before yawning. "His ass?" Baekhyun asked and you laughed "no his eyes!". "His eyes?" Chanyeol asked confused and you nodded "yeah I think it's his most beautiful feature. They're such a beautiful colour and they're very expressive. He can tell so many stories with his eyes alone". The guys all made noises and you found yourself blushing because you'd admitted an intimate detail of your life.

At the next opportunity, Kai got you alone and asked you about it. "Do you really go weak for my eyes?" he asked and you went bright red. "You do!" he cried "how did I never notice this before? I'm totally using this". "That's why I didn't tell you! I didn't want you thinking you could just bat your pretty eyes at me and I'd do whatever you wanted" you said. Kai smiled "but you will though...or at least will do somethings when I bat my eyes at you" he said his hands snaking around your waist and finding their way under your top. "Kai!" you scolded him "your friends are all in the next room" but he just smiled "so?" and that made his eyes smile too which made you sigh. "How can you say no to them Y/n?" he asked batting his eyes at you and moving so you could see them at different angles. "You know you want me" Kai whispered and you were jus about to give in when Chen walked in. "Sorry didn't mean to interrupt I just need some water" he said and awkwardly made his way to the sink and filled a glass. That interruption though was enough to give you a breath of non-Kai air and when he turned back to you, you were ready. "Nope" you said as he reached out to you "I'm not going to be yours anytime just because your eyes are amazing. So we're going to sit in there, I'm not going to look at you and then I will punish you later for what you've done". "Yes please!" Kai said and you sighed "you're not meant to like your punishment!". "Oh but I know I will" Kai grinned and you shook your head "you're unbelievable!". "Just wait until later when you punish me" he replied and you shook your head "I'm leaving now". Kai called after you but you couldn't look back...because you knew you'd see what those beautiful eyes were doing and crumble.

Sehun - How he stand-up for you

You knew Sehun wasn't a fan of confrontation and always wanted people to get along, so when his friend Sanghoon took a disliking to you after a misunderstanding, you were unsure how he'd respond but Sehun handled it perfectly.

Sehun tried to play nice at first, he was polite and explained the misunderstanding before encouraging the two of you to try and move past it. However, when his friend made it clear on numerous occasions he had no interest in getting to know you and rudely rebuked all your attempts to be friends, Sehun called it. He took him to one side at a party and told his friend he could either speak to you respectfully or leave. Which Sanghoon did not like.

"We've been friends for 4 years! You're going to ditch me for some girl?". "Her name's Y/n" Sehun replied sternly but calmly. "I don't give a shit what her name is!" his friend replied and Sehun took a breath, looked at you to make sure you were all right and then carried on. "Don't disrespect her or be rude to Y/n in front of me ever again. I know we've been friends for 4 years but that doesn't mean you get a pass for behaving badly. Y/n is my girlfriend but even if she wasn't she doesn't deserve to be spoken of like that and I won't bring someone into her life who treats her that way. If your behaviour changes then we can talk but until then, please get out" Sehun said gesturing to the door. "You're not even going to hear me out?" his friend asked and Sehun shook his head "not unless there's an apology for Y/n". "but I've done nothing wrong!" he cried and started ranting but Sehun held up his hand "I've said all I wanted to, please leave. Now".

You'd never considered Sehun and intimidating person before but the way he stood tall and stared at his friend, daring him to disagree or argue was very impressive and hot. You watched as Sehun's friend backed down and left without another word. Sehun made sure you were okay and then made sure all his other guests were okay. He was an excellent host so you didn't get to thank him until later when everyone had gone.

"Thank you" you said "for standing up to Sanghoon like that". Sehun shook his head "you don't need to thank me". "Yes I do" you smiled grabbing his hand so he couldn't turn away from you. "Some guys care more about what other guys think of them than their partners and you can never be 100% sure what is said behind your back...if you can trust a guy but with you, I now know I have no need to worry. You've got my back". "Of course!" Sehun said his hands coming to your waist so he could hold onto you "Y/n I'll always defend and support you. You're my everything and if anyone had a problem with that, well they can follow Sanghoon right out the door".

You smiled "it was really hot too you know, how you acted all alpha and told him to leave". "It was?" Sehun asked and you nodded blushing "I've never seen that side to you but I liked it". "Hmmm" Sehun said, his glorious eyebrows creasing in thought "would you maybe like me to bring this, and I'm using your words here, alpha-likeness to the bedroom sometime?". "Yeah sometimes and by some time I mean tonight". Sehun grinned "of course" and he swiftly picked you up over his shoulder and raced up the stairs. You were squealing with laughter as he carried you like you weighed nothing but all that stopped when he laid you down with a serious look on his face. Only then did you stop to think what you'd done...you turned your already hot boyfriend into an even hotter boyfriend.

_____

To celebrate their comback here’s some sexy Exo! I adore Hear Me Out sooo much and wasn’t planning on posting this now but knew I had to bump it up!

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siancore · 28 days

Text

Pockets of Peaceful Bliss

A little glimpse into small pre-canon moments between Rick and Michonne at the Prison. Based on this post by @myobsessionsspace

There was a lot to figure out after the run to King County, the reunion with Morgan, and finding a new and tentative balance with Michonne. Rick found himself wanting to seek her out, so he did. He found her where the guns they had secured were being cleaned, checked, and loaded. She was in the main communal space helping the other survivors. Rick entered the room and walked around inspecting the weapons – offering assistance when needed – but always his gaze found Michonne.

He watched as she cleaned and oiled one of the handguns, loaded its clip, and placed it aside. She was so studious in the work that she was doing. So focused on the task at hand. So willing to fight for Rick and his people. To earn her place amongst them. Carl had made the call: She was one of them. And Rick was relieved by that call, not that he understood why.

After Carol, Maggie, and a few others had finished what they were doing and left the space, Rick watched to make sure he and Michonne were alone before approaching her.

“How’re they lookin’?” Rick asked, gesturing toward the row of handguns Michonne had prepared.

“They’re good,” she replied, lifting her gaze to meet Rick’s eyes. “They’ll get the job done.”

Rick nodded his head and Michonne mirrored the action before she moved to walk away.

“Michonne,” he said quietly, causing her to stop in her tracks. “I just wanted to thank you again for today.”

She shrugged her shoulder, shook her head, and said, “You don’t have to thank me. Any one of us would’ve went on that run with you.”

Rick placed a hand to his hip and shifted his weight to the corresponding leg as he gestured with the other.

“Yeah,” he drawled. “But not just anyone would’ve been patient with Carl like that. Taking him to get the crib.”

“It was nothing, really,” she tried to brush off.

“And to go get that photo for him,” said Rick, as he averted his gaze a moment. “For Judith.”

A beat of silence passed between the pair before Rick said, “Thank you for that. It means a lot to Carl. Means a lot to me.”

He gave Michonne a small, sad smile which she returned.

“You’re welcome,” she replied softly.

They stood there then, staring at one another, not knowing what else to say, but not really wanting to move away from the other. After a minute, Rick spoke once more.

“Carl also mentioned you found a cat statue,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up into a little amused grin.

Michonne smiled as well and said, “Oh yeah, the cat sculpture. It’s gorgeous. Thought if I was gonna stick around for a while, I might as well find something other than Merle’s shining personality to brighten this place up.”

Rick nodded his head and huffed out an amused laugh. That felt odd to him. He couldn’t recall the last time he had laughed and meant it. He held her gaze and marveled at how a small smile lit her whole face up. He wondered what it would look like if she beamed brightly at him.

Rick shook the thought from his mind and then said, “I hope there’ll be much of a place left here after we fight this war.”

Michonne’s smile faded away and a staunch expression covered her face.

“There will be something left here,” she said firmly, unequivocally. “We’ll make sure of it.”

With that, she gave Rick another certain look and a nod of her head, before walking away and leaving him standing there. The exchange between them was so fleeting, but it was exactly what Rick needed, even if, at that moment, he did not understand why.

It was turning into a long night. Rick had just put Judith down to sleep for the evening after she had had a restless time. It was late when he finally got her settled. After he was satisfied that the small girl was finally sleeping soundly, Rick then went to check on Carl who looked like he was not ready for bed. The younger Grimes had a flashlight in hand while reading.

“What’s goin’ on?” asked Rick, startling his son somewhat. “Shouldn’t you be sleepin’? Thought you finished reading a while ago.”

“I was just gonna go give these to Michonne,” said Carl as he held up the stack of comic books. The ones Michonne had asked to read after he was done with them.

“I think it’s time for you to switch off the flashlight and get some sleep,” he said with no real chastisement to his tone. “It’s late, and I ain’t dealing with two grumpy kids in the morning.”

“But what about the comic books for Michonne?” Carl asked right away.

“You can give ‘em to her tomorrow,” Rick replied. “Lights off, please.”

“Okay. Goodnight, dad.”

“Night, son.”

...

Rick smiled to himself as he went to the communal kitchen to clean Judith’s bottle. Carl really cared about Michonne, and she cared for Carl. Watching them become closer was really nice. They were building a nice life at the Prison. Judith was healthy and growing, Carl was finding his way. Rick continued his musings until he found Michonne in the kitchen nursing a warm cup of milk.

“Hey,” said Rick, his eyes lighting up when he saw her.

“Hey,” she replied with that small smile Rick had begun to seek out. “Finally got Judith down for the night?”

“Yeah,” Rick replied as he filled the bottle with hot water. “Finally. I also found Carl up still reading those comic books you brought him.”

Michonne’s smile widened at that news and Rick wanted to draw the moment out longer. He soaked the bottle in a plastic container and then took up a seat at the small round table Michonne was sitting at.

“You like that, uh?” he asked playfully. “That I’m probably gonna have to deal with two sleep-deprived, grouchy kids tomorrow?”

Michonne let out a little laugh and it sounded like a sweet song to Rick’s ears.

“No, of course not,” she proffered with her hands raised. “I just love that Carl’s really enjoying the comics. It’s good to see him being a kid.”

Rick smiled and bit his bottom lip.

“Yeah,” he replied. “It is. Thank you for that.” “I didn’t do anything,” she replied.

“You brought him the books,” said Rick softly. “That helps. You’re always helping and doing nice things you don’t have to do.”

“Yeah, well, Carl’s a good kid,” said Michonne with an adoring little smile. “He deserves it.”

Rick nodded his head and then grew contemplative for a moment.

“And it’s not just the stuff you do for Carl,” Rick added. “It’s what you do for everyone here at the Prison. You’re always the first one to put your hand up to go on runs. Always making sure the safety of the people here comes first. Always sharing your skills. You’re just so good – thank you.”

Michonne’s face was awash with something Rick had never seen before: Something akin to shyness.

“Well, it’s what you do when you care about people,” she said softly. “When you care about someone.”

The pair sat staring at one another for a stretch and Rick could see it. The moment of vulnerability in Michonne. He didn’t want her to withdraw, so he spoke up in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Yeah. Yeah, I hear you. And I gotta admit, even though the comics are keepin’ Carl up after bedtime, you’re really good at gift-giving,” said Rick, before running his hand over his face. “You brought me the clippers, so.”

Michonne smiled at that as the weight of their little moment dissipated in the late-night air.

“Yes, and I see you haven’t used them yet,” Michonne teased, causing Rick to let out a little laugh.

“True,” he said, padding his palm against his facial hair once more. “I think it kinda suits me, though.”

Michonne let her eyes roam over Rick’s face as she gave him an appraising look.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I think so, too.”

When Rick finally went to bed that night, he closed his eyes and pictured Michonne’s pretty smile. It was the first time in a long time that his dreams were not plagued with blood and wailing. It was nice, he mused in the forgiving morning light. Nice to have the small moments with Michonne. Nice to share in those little pockets of peaceful bliss.

#richonne #richonne fanfiction

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j0elmill3r · 1 year

Text

The Last of the Real Ones

Pairing: Joel Miller x adopted!Daughter!Reader (She's just a baby)

Summary: Joel finds something - or someone - much different than what he planned to find on his latest supply run.

Warnings - Dead parents, blood, descriptions of violence, Joel is once again sad.

Word Count - 1.3k

Anonymous asked:

Kind of different idea: Joel finding a little baby girl (small child) on one of his supply runs/outings, and he ends up keeping her (you are so good with daughter!reader fics I can't handle the loooooveeee)

A/N: Going 3 for 3, it's me with 3 fics in a row? Who are they? A short but sweet one here, I hope everyone enjoys! As always, feedback, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated on this blog!

Joel Miller Masterlist

Joel stopped in his tracks as he noticed a couple of runners, crowded around something laying on the floor. 'Great, another ditched supply run', He thought to himself, sighing quietly. Getting ready to head back to where him and Tommy's new refuge was, he took notice of the runners scurrying off, some other poor bastard left to suffer the same fate as they did. As he made his way into the drivers seat of the old truck, he took a minute to think of Sarah.

She would have been 18 today.

It was a sour day for Joel, but he had volunteered to go on the supply run to try and keep his mind off of his daughter. But then something - no, someone - caught his attention. He slowly got out of the drivers side of the truck, quietly and stealthily making his way over to inspect what the runners had been so brainlessly invested in.

Oh.

His heart dropped as he saw you, laying sleepingxcfvg in a bloodied car seat with a blood stained diaper bag clipped to the handle. Joel could only have assumed the two previous runners to be who used to be your mother and father, and judging by the handwritten note tucked in beside you, it was obvious that they were hoping someone would find you and take you in, look after you. Joel knew he couldn't leave you, a defenceless baby, here, all on your own - he knew he'd be sealing your fate, and may as well have fed you to the runners himself. Almost as if acting on fatherly instinct, Joel gently picked up the carrier by the handle, the diaper bag with some essential baby supplies gently tapping off your feet. He put you beside him in the truck, facing him on the passenger seat, taking the note out of your carrier.

To whoever finds our Y/N.

She is 6 months old, please, please take care of her as you would your own. She is so loving, loves to be held and will smile at you if you smile at her too. Please, do not tell her about us and what we became, she does not deserve that - just know that we loved her for the short time that we had with her, please keep our girl safe.

Joel sighed sadly as he looked over at you, now awake, your eyes studying him to see if you would trust him - His heart oddly swelling when you giggled and smiled at him, blissfully unaware of the world you were unfortunate enough to be born into. But he had decided, he would do as your parents had asked and look after you, and raise you as his own.

Even with all of the sleepless nights that had come with raising you, Joel honestly wouldn't have traded it for a thing - Tommy had even noticed that Joel was slightly happier, which he didn't think it was possible for anyone to get happier in a world like this. You were now two, and Joel and Tommy had finally found a QZ that was stable enough that Joel could raise you in and try to give you some form of childhood.

"Daddy," You nudged Joel's shoulder, trying your hardest to wake him up. He grumbled in response, waving you off and telling you to wake him in five more minutes - you, however, had no concept of time, as a toddler. You gave it five seconds. "Daddy!" You yelled, a frustrated pout on your face. Joel chuckled as he lifted you up onto his bed.

"Good morning to you too, baby," He said sleepily, wrapping both of his arms around you. He loved the moments like these, they reminded him of his daughter, who you reminded him of so much with your sass. "You sleep good?" Joel asked you, smiling as you nodded, wriggling out of his arms and jumping out of his bed.

"Daddy I wanna go outside," You whined, pointing out to the front door, bouncing on your feet as your looked at your dad. Joel was reluctant, he wasn't sure on how the infection worked in children as young as you, he didn't want to risk you falling victim to the infection that had already stolen so many lives. He got out of bed, picking you up as he left his bedroom.

"I'm not sure, baby girl," Joel told you, pouring you a bowl of cereal and using the last of the powered milk which he had sourced. "Let me think about it, okay?" He offered you a compromise, even though he knew it was going to be a no. He felt like you were his second chance, so he would do anything to keep you safe. You nodded and finished off your cereal, handing the bowl back to Joel as you wiped your face of the milk that coated your lips. "All done?" He asked you. You nodded and smiled at him, he smiled back.

"Yeah, thank you daddy," You told him, holding your arms out for him to carry you. Joel obliged and picked you up from under your arms, holding you at his waist and resting your head on his shoulder. He could afford to have the day off with you, there wasn't much he could really do with you, it wasn't as if Disney World had post apocalyptic opening hours - But you were happy enough to have him just spend the day with you, even if you spent it doing nothing, you hardly really knew much different. "Can I stay in my jammas today daddy?" You asked him, pulling the most innocent face you could. Joel couldn't resist it, he couldn't say no to your little face. You somehow managed to remind him that even in the dark days that this infection so often brought, that you, with your childish innocence, would brighten up those dark days.

"Of course baby, you can stay in your pyjamas today," He assured you, smiling as he started pulling your hair back into a pony tail, he knew you didn't like it in your face. "We can have a relaxed day today, okay?" He offered you, smiling as you nodded and cuddled into him. Joel didn't know how long you had been awake for before you decided to wake him up, but you must have been up for a good while, as indicated by the yawn and stretch you let out. "Are you tired, baby girl?" You nodded and cuddled into your dad, indicating that you didn't want to go to your bed to sleep. Joel rubbed your back as you dozed off to sleep in his lap, your head bobbing as you drifted off. He could have moved, put you to your own bed so he could go to work, but he wouldn't break his promise to you. So he sat with you on his lap, holding you as you slept peacefully in his arms.

He sometimes wondered if you ever doubted that Joel was your father, but then he realised that you hadn't known anything other than him, he would think of an excuse if you ever asked about your real parents, he would tell you the truth. But he hoped that you wouldn't, that you would always consider him your actual father.

#joel miller x daughter!reader #joel miller hbo #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel tlou #hbo the last of us #x daughter #x daughter!reader #the last of us

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babyhatesreality · 1 year

Note

Hi if you take request I just have this in my mind:

Sometimes when you are somewhere outside (like in a mall) you get distracted by all those people and colorful stores. And if you don’t hold your daddies hands you will easily go another way.

So what if she is to distracted by something and Steve and Bucky just further without noticing that she didn’t follow (maybe they are stressed or smt like that) and she just follows someone who looks like one of her daddy’s and she only notices later that this was not her daddy and she was lost.

Okay so first things first, I'm old and don't know how to put the two similar asks together nicely so here’s a screenshot and get off my lawn. :P (edited to add: Also for @justme1234456 who requested this too!<3)

Second, I had to alter both asks a bit to align it with what I see as canon in my AU. I really hope that’s okay, and I’m sorry if this isn’t what you were looking for. I have to be honest about what I think could actually happen in this little world I’ve created otherwise I just can’t write it truthfully. If that offends anyone, I’m truly sorry for hurting feelings, and I encourage you to find what you’re needing with many of the other insanely-more-talented-than-I-am writers on this site.

Break Away

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x little f!reader

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), language, pet names, praise, scared reader, angst, tears, large and pushy crowds, overprotective Papa and Daddy, fluff fluff fluff and did I mention fluff?

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated.

What started as a nice walk in the park quickly turned into one of their worst nightmares.

It had been raining for days in New York. Normally you wouldn’t have minded, having a massive pile of toys to play with and books to have read to you, and an endless supply of other family members in the tower to keep you entertained. But you were fidgety, constantly needing to be on the move. Your daddies had taken you to the big gym floor and set you loose on the giant running track, they’d taken you to the Olympic-sized indoor pool, and they’d even managed to convince Tony to let them take the Quinjet on a quick spin around the state. All of which managed to keep you satisfied...for that day. Then the next day they’d find you with your nose pressed up against the sliding glass door to the patio, watching the pouring rain, asking politely if you could go outside. Four thousand times in a row.

Finally the rain let up right before your bedtime, and the ground became okay enough to not be a giant puddle by morning. You were so excited about going outside, wiggling around so much, that Bucky later grumbled to Steve that it had been easier escaping from the German army than getting you into your coat and rain boots.

“We goin’ to the park, we goin’ to the park, we goin’ to the PAAAAAAAAAAARK!!!” you sung at the top of your little lungs, running back and forth with joy as you held onto Steve and Bucky’s hands, walking through the hallways of the tower. You squealed in delight when they both lifted their arms in tandem, swinging you into the air. “Again again please!!” you begged, laughing uproariously with delight when they obliged.

Steve grinned down at you as you giggled gleefully. He was craving the fresh air just as much as you were and felt as joyful as you did. “Okay, so when we get to Central Park, what are you going to do, angel?” he asked you.

“Hold your hand always!”

“That’s my smart girl. You hold my hand or Daddy’s hand at all times. And what happens if we get separated and you don’t see us?”

“Look for a ‘Venger to help!”

“Right again! I’m so proud of you!” You giggled and blushed, wiggling around extra hard to let Papa know how happy his praise made you. “Now. Last one. If you don’t see someone who can help you, what do you do?”

“Light up shoes and stay PUT!”

“Great job, baby!” Steve cheered, suddenly swinging around and lifting you up into the air while you laughed crazily. All the littles in the Avengers Tower had light up shoes with tiny trackers in them, so if anything ever happened to them outside the tower and they were in little space, they’d always have a tracker on them that a caregiver could follow. It wasn’t too hard to convince any little to wear the shoes that lit up when they stomped; in fact, you all had gone through several pairs of light up shoes, delighted at the light up features. Hey, the system worked.

Bucky grinned at the two of you, reaching back out for your hand the moment your feet touched the ground. “Good job remembering the rules, Trouble,” he said. You wiggled with joy and blushed again, making him chuckle. He looked up at his husband. “You sure you wanna try this without caps and glasses?” he asked again, raising his eyebrows. “No disguises at all?”

Steve smile warmly at his worrywart husband. “We’re not undercover, Buck. We live in this city too, and everyone already knows it anyways. It’ll be okay, and if it’s not, we’ll just ask people to respect our space or we’ll go a different direction. It’ll be fine.”

Bucky kept the smile, but tightened his grip on your hand.

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

A little while later, the three of you were enjoying the birds singing, the fresh, cool breeze blowing through the trees, and the hum of human activity all around you. It was so lovely, it seemed like everyone in New York City was trying to get outside to see the sun. You held tight to your daddies’ hands, but your head was constantly whipping around, trying to take in all the sights at once.

Suddenly, there was a scream in the distance. Bucky and Steve’s heads snapped in the direction of the sound automatically, their grips tightening on yours. Out of nowhere, this group of seven or eight teens came barreling at the three of you, all with their phones out, screaming about Captain America and The Winter Soldier. With the speed of light, Bucky tucked you underneath his vibranium arm, cuddling you against his body to keep you safe. This meant you had to let go of Papa’s hand, and you tried to turn your head to make sure he was okay, but Daddy’s grip on you was too strong and you couldn’t see him.

Before you knew it, the crowd grew suddenly larger, and you heard people pointing at the group of teens in recognition- they were something called a...’influencer’ or a ‘TikTok star’ or something...you didn’t understand all the yelling. You got very, very still, hanging desperately onto Daddy’s shirt as he tried to be polite- Avengers had an image to maintain, especially the ‘reformed’ ones like him- but get these people to back off.

One of the boys grabbed onto the vibranium arm that was holding you, screaming about how cool it was. It scared you so badly, not seeing this boy until his hands were reaching right where you were at and the loudness, that you stumbled backwards, causing you to slip out from underneath Bucky’s arm.

Bucky’s head whipped around the second he lost contact with you. “Steve!” he hollered over the melee as he tried to move the kid away from you. “Get her!” All you caught was a glimpse of Steve’s searching blue eyes before a tidal wave of people crashed into you. It was insane- some sort of mob mentality had taken over. Between the two famous Avengers and the internet sensations surrounding them, everyone lost their minds. You tried to push against the tide, tried desperately to keep your eyes on either of them, but the crush of the crowd was too much. Your throat choked up in fear- you couldn’t even call out for them. You were carried away by the wave. It seemed to go on forever and you couldn’t stop it as it pushed you farther and farther away.

Finally there was a break in the people that had been crowding you, and you pushed with all your might to get free of the mob. Trying to keep calm and be brave, you looked around, remembering Rule #2 as hard as you could. Your heart leapt when you saw a long mane of red hair a distance away, and you instantly ran towards it, thinking it was Aunt Natasha. Just as you were about to throw your arms around the woman, she suddenly turned. It wasn’t Auntie Nat. You mumbled an awkward apology and ran in the other direction, embarrassed.

Gulping hard to try to keep your scared sobs inside, you came to a halt. You looked around and didn’t see anything you recognized. There was a pretty, tall fountain with an angel on top close to you, but you didn’t remember it from before. “Light up shoes and stay put,” you whispered to yourself. “Light up shoes and stay put.” You stomped your feet as hard as you could, seeing the rainbow lights activate. You looked around desperately, waiting for them to come and rescue you. You stomped harder and harder, the tears building in your eyes. No Papa. No Daddy. You slowly walked the few steps to the fountain and carefully sat down, the tears now running down your face. Every now and then, you stomped your feet to keep the shoes lit up. “Please find me,” you whispered tearfully, pleading into the air.

Suddenly, there were shrieks and gasps coming from in front of you. You looked up to see people suddenly rushing to the sides, looking like they were dodging to get out of the way of a speeding train. And they were. A speeding train in the form of Daddy.

Bucky came racing towards you faster than you’d ever seen anyone run. You could almost see the flames coming off his feet. The crowd parted for him, but he didn’t give two flying fucks if he ran any of them over. With barely a bend of the knees, he came flying over the stone balustrade walls surrounding the fountain, his eyes locked on your tiny form. All you could do was reach your hands to him before he reached you, scooping you up and crushing you to his chest like he was never going to let you go again.

You just clung to him, still too frightened to do anything else. “Hey, it’s okay baby, it’s okay, Daddy’s here. Daddy’s here and he’s not letting you go,” Bucky was murmuring into your ear, so fast you could barely make out the words. “I am so sorry baby. Daddy will never let that happen again, you hear me? Never again. Never, never again. I’m right here.” You just whimpered and nodded, your tears soaking the front of his shirt. You heard another set of feet come to a screeching halt near you, but you were still too worked up to turn to see if it was Papa. You knew if it wasn’t, Daddy was going to keep you safe, and that was all you could handle at the moment. “Deep breaths, baby, can you do that for me? Can you take some deep breaths?” Daddy asked frantically, tilting his head back to look at you. “Can you take some deep breaths with me? Some deep breaths with Daddy?” You managed to nod again, and relief flooded his face. “That’s my good girl. Okay, we’re gonna sit down and take some breaths together.”

Bucky sat on the edge of the fountain where he’d found you. He turned you in his lap so you could see Steve sitting next to the both of you. Your left hand shot out instantly, needing to touch him too. Steve took your hand, covering it with his other, stroking and patting it, his eyes a warring storm of fear and relief, while Bucky held you tight,

“Okay, baby, let’s breathe together. You remember how we breathe when we’re scared?” Daddy asked, looking down at you, his tone a bit calmer now. You could see he was still struggling too, and that gave you the nudge to be brave enough to breathe together. You nodded. “We can do it. We’ll do it together, Daddy and Baby. Okay, here we go. Breathe in.” You two locked eyes and breathed in, Bucky counting as he inhaled. “One, two, three, four,” he said on the air, then nodded at you. You held your breath with him as his lips moved, counting to four again, but not letting any air out. “Breathe out, one, two, three, four, five, six,” Bucky said, keeping his eyes locked on you while you went through the exercise together. He silently counted to six as you held your breath again. You went through the cycle three times together, feeling better and better each time. When you finished, Daddy smiled proudly at you. “I knew you could do it, Baby. Daddy loves you so much.”

“Love you too Daddy,” you said, tucking your forehead into his chest again, happy that he was okay now too. You brought Papa’s hand up to your face. “Love you too Papa.” You squeezed his fingers, pressing them in to your cheek.

“Papa loves you so much,” Steve responded, his voice tight with emotion. “Are you okay honey?” You pursed your lips for a moment, but nodded.

“M’okay. Big peoples.”

“Yeah, that crowd was crazy, right?”

“Too loud.”

“Definitely too loud. I’m so sorry baby, that should never have happened.”

“They all go away?”

“Yeah, they’re all away now. You remember how Uncle Tony says that he can watch everybody everywhere?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, he saw on his cameras that the mean crowd was bothering us and his flying suits came to help.”

“WOW.”

“We’ll have to thank him when we get home.”

“Okay, I help.”

Both your daddies chuckled, relieved that you were starting to sound like you again. “What do you think, Baby? Do you want to go home?” Bucky asked, bouncing you a little, trying to gauge how you were feeling.

“Um,” you said. Now that you were over the fear, you weren’t QUITE ready to be back inside just yet. “We look at duckies please?” The men exchanged a quick look, checking in with each other, before they turned back to you, smiling.

“Okay, Trouble, we will go look at the ducks,” Bucky said softly, before placing a kiss on your forehead. “Good manners.” He stood up and was about to tell you that you were only staying at the park if he carried you for the rest of the day, but the iron grip you had on his tee shirt and the way your legs locked around his waist let him know that you had no intention of being set down, anyways. He pressed another kiss into your hair.

They walked to a quieter section by the water, grinning and laughing as you insisted on pointing to each and every duck, naming them one by one. After about ten minutes, Steve got a pedicab to get you all back to the street so you wouldn’t have to walk through all the people again. You’d made a full recovery by the time you all got back to Avengers’ Tower, babbling excitedly about all the ducky friends you’d made today and making plans to bring them bread tomorrow.

But Bucky still didn’t set you down for the rest of the evening. And you were okay with that.

#daddy!Stucky #daddy stucky #daddy!stucky x little!reader #daddy stucky x little reader #daddy!Steve #Daddy Steve #daddy!steve x little!reader #daddy steve x little reader #daddy bucky #daddy!bucky #daddy bucky x little reader #daddy!bucky x little!reader

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superblycaffeinated · 5 months

Text

Find the list of January Prompts I’m participating in here - join in! I love seeing all the different stories people come up with from the same words 💙 I actually didn’t pop the words of the prompt into this one, just more of the general feeling that they brought to me. Please enjoy Joe being Joe and also the tiniest hint of a nod to the listen series by @averagejoesolomon in the form of a spoon, a dad and his daughter in this

Joe could use a shower, a warm bed, and a decent cup of coffee. His jet-lag hasn’t caught up to him just yet, that feeling of an op clings to him, keeping him going far longer than possible. Adrenaline and anxiety curl around tense and tight muscles still, making his brain more alert than it should be.

Which is why he slows his steps when the black town car rounds the corner, heading in the same direction as him. Eyes track the moving vehicle from under aviators as he pulls out the burner, maintaining his course towards the idling jet, dialing the number he’s had memorized for the past several years.

It rings three times, he speaks five numbers into the receiver clearly, then a click.

“Rachel Morgan, Headmistress of the-”

“Catch me up here, Rach-Ms. Morgan,” he corrects, staring as the car’s red brake lights glow, and a teenage girl climbs out of the backseat.

Rachel’s voice is crackled and stiff over the line, but he can detect the amusement in her tone. “We have an international student who just so happened to also need a lift home. Win-win.”

The teenage girl stands with her arms crossed next to the trunk of the car, a stubborn pout on her lips before she sees him. He can tell she’s startled at the sight of him - hesitant - all of it clear just from her eyes, but she’s pretty good at hiding it - her body language and pout remain intact.

He ducks his head, lips barely moving against the phone as he hisses, “How is me, sitting on a jet, alone, trapped with a teenage girl for eight hours, a win-win, Rachel?”

“You need a ride, she needs a ride, and I need you both here. Quite literally the definition of a win-win, if you ask me. Actually, it’s technically a win-win-win. They should give me a trophy for that many in a row.”

Abe and Grace Baxter climb out of the car and he watches the girl melt into her mother’s embrace as he grows closer to the trio and the waiting jet.

He shakes his head, ever so slightly, and laughs, amused, but irritated nonetheless.

“You know, you’re becoming more and more like your sister each passing day?”

It’s meant as a joke, a light-hearted jab, like they used to. But things aren’t the same anymore, and they haven’t been for quite some time.

If he were there, in person, maybe he’d see her eyes, feel that air that surrounds Rachel and tells him the silent things he needs to know. But he’s in London and she’s in Virginia, and all he can do is listen to the tight way her words come out.

“Well, I suppose I should take that as a compliment. Everyone likes Abby more anyways. Always have, right?”

“Rachel, I didn’t mean-”

“Best get going, Mr. Solomon. At this rate, you and Ms. Baxter will be crashing my welcome back speech.”

The phone clicks and then she’s gone.

He’s at the car now, and Abe Baxter has his hands on his daughter’s shoulders, smiling.

“Don’t forget that thing I taught you with-”

“With the spoon. Yeah, dad, I got it.” She rolls her eyes, tone seeming to be brushing it off, but Joe can see the way she loves her father fiercely, all from those eyes that give her away.

Grace smiles at him, “Sorry we can’t stay and catch up, Joe. Duty calls. Keep an eye on our girl?”

He nods, a short but courteous thing and offers his best smile. He drops the burner, stomps on it, and pulls the pieces apart before tossing it to Abe who catches it without looking up. Rebecca Baxter watches it all with eager, hungry eyes - like a sponge trying to absorb every last drop. He suspects she’ll be one of his new students who gives him a run for his money. And that’s before he hears:

“Darling, give Liz and Cammie our love!”

She waves as the town car doors close, watching until it disappears and her bags and trunks are loaded into the plane.

Joe is fairly certain his heart rate has increased exponentially because not only is he about to be trapped on a plane with a teenager, but a teenager who just so happens to be best friends with the one girl he isn’t ready to see again.

Rebecca turns to face him, her hand out, overconfidence radiating out of her like she thinks she’s a seasoned operative like her parents, like him, and not the inexperienced teenager that she is.

Joe is one thousand percent positive he can hear Matthew Morgan, somewhere, wishing him an apprehensive:

Good luck, buddy. And get ready.

#gallagher girls #gallagher girls series #joe solomon #rachel morgan #bex baxter

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robynlilyblack · 2 years

Note

Congratulations! You are my favorite writer and you absolutely deserve it. I fell in love with your writing since you wrote my first request, I think it was like Father like son. So I’m definitely feeling so proud of you right now.🥹

Sooo to celebrate, I’ll request I should breathe a little bit softer with Sirius x reader rock band au, with 4 members from each houses. Maybe Sirius is the lead singer who is dating slytherin female lead guitarist reader

Congrats again♥️♥️

-Alex

My whole life darlin...

Lead singer! Sirius Black x fem! lead guitarist! Reader

Rock Band AU

Summary: The four houses play their first festival gig where it’s not just there talent thats showcased

Warnings: swearing, some public nudity, established relationship, kissing, mentions of sex

A/n: 0.8k words, hi Alex xx thank you so much and I remember that one, it was like my second ever and I was so excited!! I love this idea and write the first thing that popped into my head because Sirius would so so do this

Navigation | Sirius Black Masterlist | Celebration

“Thank you, thank you!” Sirius laughs into the microphone as the crowd cheers at you all coming back on stage after your short break

Never would you have thought a year ago you would be standing up here with your three best friends, nor would you have thought one of whom would blossem into more. No one but the band and your friends knew you and Sirius were together. Knowing all the fans crushing on him would get rather disappointed to know he was taken…which was funny considering the romantic ballads he wrote and sang were all about you, his lead guitarist

“We have a brand-new song you for you gorgous people!” Sirius announces, giving them all a wink and sending the crowd into a tizzy “This one written by the magical and wonderfully weird…Pandora!” Sirius turns to the blonde, bowing to her as do you and Amos, who stands briefly from behind the drums

Sirius places the mic back onto the stand before turning to you “Ready when you are darlin” he whispers low so the mic doesn't pick it up, an admiring grin on his face as he watches your movements

You place the pick in your mouth as you check your guitar quickly, but really you knew that Sirius always found it hot when you did it, before signalling to Amos to start the beat.

Licking your lips, you start to play, the crowd already jumping up and down at the first note but It’s only when Sirius starts singing does the women of the crowds start to push forward, most have their eyes glued on Sirius like he was a god. Which he was, especially since he had already ripped off his shirt in the first act…which, rather comedically, more than one person fainted at

You smiled at him, shamlessly watching him...well maybe your eyes were more intersented in his glistening inked chest. Luckily this wasn’t the most advanced song for you on guitar, it was Amos with the solo so you were currently in autopilot, enjoying your man singing his pretty little heart out.

You had to admit you enjoyed his fans shouting as they fawned over him, giving you a sense of pride knowing you were his girl

Your so hot!

I love you!

Marry me!

Have my babies!

You giggled at the last one, something Sirius couldn’t hear but seen in his peripherals, causing him to smirk as he finished singing started a clap while Amos’ did his solo.

Sirius was just jaming out himself during the instrumental when you noticed a row of girls trying to get Sirius’ attention at the front. Eventally he noticed them and they all lifted their shirts flashing him…actually two of them were flashing you

You chewed your lip, messing up a note but soon recover, the crowd doesn’t notice and your two fans take it as a compliment. Your boyfriend however gets an idea, saundering over and leading you to the centre of the stage

As he turns you to face him, your back to the crowd, you give him a quizzical look

“You trust me?” he whispers and you nod “Good, cause you might break up with me for this” he warns as he finds the hem of your shirt and pushes it up, exposing you to him

Sirius keeps his hands at either side, blocking the view to everyone but the band. Your eyes flick to Pandora who looks at you with an amused look, mouthing ‘nice boobs’ before she continues to play unfazed, while Amos is too far caught up in playing to even notice

Your eyes return to Sirius, cheeky bastard, you think as he is comparing your boobs to theirs before leaning into the mic behind him

“Lovely tits ladies” he winks, earning ‘wooo’s’ from them “But these” he tuts shaking his head and licking his lips

You poke your cheek with your tough, not knowing whether to kill him or kiss him

“These sadly you won’t get to see…” there’s a large ‘awww’ from the crowd making you giggle “…but trust me when I say these are the best I’ve ever seen” he leans down giving them both a lingering kiss before covering you up, making sure to pat them a few times for good measure

‘You are so dead’ you mouth to him but he just chuckles, finding it impressive you still managed to play during all of that

Are you a couple? You hear more than one s

Sirius raises an eyebrow at you and you roll your eyes “You’ve been waiting for this haven’t you?” you ask him lowly "Bet you planned to do it like this too" you say as he nudges his nose with yours

He smirks “To tell the world I’m yours in Sirius, the most handsome of the marauders, Black fashion?” he quips cupping your cheek as his free hand supporting your back, dipping you down, your guitar swinging around your back

“My whole life darlin...seeing your tits was just a bonus” he says a little smug before pulling you into a kiss…although it’s more like a snog, Pandora finishing the final chorus as Sirius wasn't stopping anytime soon

Thank you for reading 💛

#sirius black and reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader #sirius black #sirius and reader #marauders era #sirius black and you #sirius x y/n #rock band au #sirius black fanfiction

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signedeclipse · 1 year

Note

hi dear, i saw your requests are open so here i am ✨ can i get some Mitsuri x fem!reader (nsfw) in where reader is mitsuri's tsuguko, when the two of them train together there is a bit of tension since reader can't stop watching her (how her boobs bounce about to slip out of his shirt and how her skirts flies) kanroji notices her partner's nervousness and decides to heat things up. I was thinking about a quicky sx scene cause im not feel very comfortable if they are totally naked so could you make them just lift their skirts for touching and unbutton their uniforms? I have made this request before but nobody has written it 😭 so if you write it I would be very grateful to you. Also, both of them are adults.

Ilysm im so happy you're back ❤

Blossoms [Mitsuri X Reader]

Reader is Human Female | NSFW

Recomended Song - Into You by Ariana Grande

The sun poured down on the shinzō estate’s courtyard garden, the very center of it forming a rocky platform where the love hashira and her tsukugo often trained against one another. Throughout the early morning, laughs and the sound of a sword cutting through the air was audible, filling the estate with life that matched the rows of flowers blooming around every corner in different shades of pink.

You and Mitsuri started your days at home before the sun rose, delving into breakfast and then instant running to the yard to get at your training. When you initially started under her, it was harsh, but now you saw the fun in it as much as he had. When you start your day early and get your blood pumping fast, the rest of the day, you feel energized and prepared for whatever mission is bestowed upon you.

Like any other day, you were down to just your hakama and typical slayer corps top with a sarashi under in case it tore, slashing towards the love hashira as she blocked every attack, applying force back, so you had to continue pushing.

“Just like that!” She cheered you on anytime you got things right and giggled when you stumbled over.

You were much better than when you had first met, having grown from Kanoto to your current rank at Kinoto, with only one more position to climb before you’d be trialing as a hashira. Even then, you always mentioned that you were happy where you were, primarily because if you were to become a hashira, it either meant Mitsuri was dead or demoted.

Thoughts like that were easy to expel from your head when around the enthusiastic girl, who seemed to make the heat of the sun hotter when she was around, especially during your private training when she was flashing you with practically every move.

‘Should have listened to me about a new uniform,’ you sighed both from exhaustion and from the memory of telling a bunch of new corps members off because it was a little too windy that day, and Mitsuri’s skirt was acting up.

Not only did you have to tell them off, but yourself included. If anyone caught you- if SHE caught you staring like that, you’d surely be in trouble for a lifetime.

“Blossom, are you paying attention?” She asked the question before she tripped you onto your back, already knowing you weren’t in the right mind to save yourself from the fall. She instantly grabbed your wrist, keeping you just inches from the floor.

“You’re more distracted than usual! Did you eat well enough?” Her strength always outmatched yours, pulling you up into her chest and hugging you to ensure you wouldn’t fall again.

“Oh! Yes- I mean, of course, I’m okay, Kanroji! Sorry if I worried you!” Compared to her calm care, you were much more of an anxious mess, which only made the hashira laugh more. Of course, you were okay, but she found it funny how you struggled with remaining convincing, even if it was the truth.

Of course, Mitsuri knew the truth; she didn’t have to look to feel how your eyes practically undressed her every second, how it made her heart flutter knowing you wouldn’t dare lay a finger on her even if you wanted to. The flat of her palm held you against her from between your shoulder blades, her free hand poking the tip of your nose playfully.

“I think we could use some shade; all this heat must be exhausting!” Without much protest, she was able to walk you back against a sakura tree, enveloped by the shade its beautiful petals provided the two of you, to which you finally looked up and met her eyes.

“W…what are we doing, Kanroji?” Your voice was a whisper from the fact her face was so close to yours, with barely any room left to share words.

“Please, my Blossom, let me take care of you…?” Her words dripped with an emotion you could barely read, mixes of love and passion that sent a fluttering feeling into your heart, hands clinging to her uniform and hoping this was not a joke.

But it wasn’t a joke; Mitsuri would never do this to you for fun. She left a quick kiss on your nose, followed by your cheeks and all over your face until you melted into her arms, sheepishly kissing back when her lips finally locked with your own. Your body was sandwiched between hers and the tree, feeling every way hers moved against yours in the heat of the moment.

Your breath was shaky when she parted, a deep red having brushed over your cheeks, nodding when Kanroji tilted her head in a questioning glance.

Her leg snaked between yours, pushing up against your heat ever so slightly through the thick fabric of the pants, hitching your breath at the pleasuring feeling. With her head tilted, she could close in to kiss all along your neck, leaving pink lip gloss marks you likely wouldn’t notice until much later paired with love bites.

As she listened to your heavy breaths, she enjoyed how your hands moved along her skin, pulling her closer from the small of her back with one hand. At the same time, the other slowly stroked up and down her thigh, wrist pushing the skirt up when your hand ventured higher, circling over her panties right near her clit, sweeping over it once in a while just to feel her tense up.

The worse your teasing became, the more frequently she would grind her leg into your pussy, the fabric between only worsening the pleasurable feeling to make it all more subtle. The heat grew and blossomed with every second until you couldn’t help slipping a hand into her underwear, dipping the tips of your fingers along the wet of her heat until your fingers were nice and slick, flicking over her clit.

In what felt like a tangle of love, Mitsuri shakily unbuttoned the uniform top you were wearing, pressing closer with the fabric away as one hand greedily massaged your tits through the sarashi, pushing some of the bandages apart, so she had more access to teasing you.

“Mitsuri…!” Your shaking voice only persuaded her to keep going, following the rhythm of your fingers against her with her thigh that pushed into your pussy over and over. Your heat started to soak through the fabric until she felt it against her leg, encouraging her advances. The love hashira barely noticed how she needily bucked her hips into your fingers.

As the heat climbed and your touches became more desperate, you pushed your lips back into Mitsuri’s for one last kiss as you each fell apart in the other's arms, overwhelmed moans muffled by the kiss.

When you moved apart to catch your breath, a string of saliva connected to you until it snapped, each side falling onto each of your half-exposed chests.

“Mhh~ I think training is over, Blossom! Good work~” Her voice was breathy, angelic as it always has been despite her legs shaking. This time a smile broke on your face, lifting the girl into your arms as one might their bride.

“I’ll run us a bath, Miss Kanroji.”

Author Note - Thank you so much for requesting! I loved the request a lot and hope I captured what you had in mind. Just be sure next time to mention if you would like a oneshot or headcanons! <3

Word Count - 1,218

Art Credit - ばん

#mitsuri x reader #mitsuri #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #kny oneshots #oneshot #kny x reader #x reader #reader insert

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sunflowerharrington · 2 years

Note

can i request eddie with a bookworm-ish shy reader? If u need a prompt: “your always reading, i just never thought you felt this way…”

you can take full creative control! I don’t really care i just wanna read about our kings <////3

This bud of love by summer’s ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet

pairing - Eddie Munson X GN!Hargrove!Reader (with hair long enough to tuck behind your ear)

summary - Resident bookworm, Y/N Hargrove, is always too caught up in a book to face their feelings for the local metalhead “freak”, until now...

notes - *still refusing to believe volume two happened* I tried giving Y/N a Shakespearean vibe, I know it’s a stereotype but also if you wanna be rude to me the block button is available. And reader is a Hargrove because I wanted to give them a stark contrast to Billy.

I hope you enjoy, Nonnie, and I’m SO sorry for taking this long to get this out! title is a quote from Act 2 Scene 1 of William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Enjoy!

warnings - Other than a mention of Billy Hargrove’s tragic death, this is pure fluff :)

word count -

taglist - @quickiesgirl @sunnymunson @sympathyforher @langdon-cumslut @in-love-with-will-byers @wzrlds @taecube @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul dm, comment or ask me to be added or taken off for all future updates (bar ‘stitches’ and ‘call it what you want’ they will have their own taglists)

back to my stranger things masterlist

You nervously awaited your fate as you read through the brittle pages of your novel adaptation of William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Reading about the beautiful women and handsome men that danced the night away at masquerade balls. And reading the wonderful story about how Juliet met her Romeo as an escape from the reality that your family had been falling apart ever since that unfortunate day. July 4th 1985.

And you wished you could meet your ultimate life partner, your rock, your soulmate, somebody who could protect you from the big bad dragon that had been terrorizing your family since you and your late twin brother were born. That dragon being your father.

However, today was your chance to show your friends that you should be taken seriously, that you’re not just the girl sitting in the corner with her nose in an Oscar Wilde novel or reading melodic poetry. You would rather be known as the sister of the boy that sacrificed himself to save an entire town than that.

You stood in front of the library, anticipation coasting through your veins like waves of the ocean, a feeling of trepidation as you clasped the door handle in your grip. Should you knock?

Of course not! You’re in school!

The people in the library had been warm, inviting towards you; Nancy, studious and confident, Robin; sweet and a little wild, Dustin; courageous and kind, and Mike; reserved, and a little mean. But you would be too if your best friend almost died a more tragic death than Desdemona.

But you were looking for your knight in shining armour, and you got him; in the form of a senior in all denim and a leather jacket, chains hanging every which way, and wild, fluffy hair. And you knew you were destined to be the best of friends the moment you exchanged pleasantries.

Which is why, when you had your nose stuck in Les Mis, you didn’t notice the gaze on you. All through senior year, and it was on the last day of school before graduation when you finally noticed it. O, my dear Aphrodite, my sincerest thank you’s for my wishes coming true.

Your knight had come to sweep you off your feet, lifting you up in his strong arms, looking at you like you were his heart’s only desire. After everyone had been seated, you stood before them to give your graduation speech, and like a flower blooming in a row of bushes, a rose between many thorns, waiting to be plucked by you, was Edward Munson. Your knight. Your Mr. Darcy to Elizabeth. Your saviour from the dragon.

You smiled coyly as you spoke, your eyes selecting their place to gaze carefully, and he smiled back at you. And he cheered the loudest out of everyone when your speech had come to an end.

Your loins burned with desire as the graduation ceremony came to an end, jumping in the air when Mademoiselle Joyce Byers asked you, your knight and the two princesses, Buckley and Wheeler, to jump into the air and she snapped a photo of you with Prince Jonathan’s camera. You bit your lip in focus, and a bad habit, as Eddie wrapped his strong arms around you, engulfing you in the fabric of his blue graduation gown.

Eddie. Beautiful, handsome Edward. Your perfect man had been plucked from the pages of your novel and dropped into Hawkins 20 years ago, and it was only now that the universe had let you get a crystal clear look at him.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as he pulled away, pressing a kiss of adoration to the centre of your forehead like they do in movies and books. “Told you this year was my year, Hargrove.”

The man standing before you would love you with the passion of Rhett, and would be as devoted to you as Heathcliff to Kathy, and would obsess over you more than Michael Wheeler was over William Byers. You would be Eddie’s. Forever and ever, you decided.

His big brown eyes sparkled in the bright sunlight that beamed down on the school grounds.

“Eddie, I…” You blurted out. Now what in great heavens were you going to say after that? You didn’t know.

You clutched his waist, and he gifted your forehead with another soft kiss while you both twirled around, his hands on your waist. “We did it! We graduated, Hargrove!”

The smile on his face had been nothing you’d seen before, never seeing him this ecstatic in your two years of knowing him. “Only took you two years, Munson.”

“Hey!” He laughed, and oh what a sound for sore ears. “I was trying!”

“What happened to you flipping Higgins the bird? And what happened to you taking my hand and running out of here and never looking back?”

“We can still do that,” he said, and in an instant you were thrown over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift, and he carried you down the aisle.

If only you were donning a wedding dress at that moment.

“Everything okay, sweetheart?” He asked, noticing your discomfort when he put you down outside the school grounds, taking your hand in his.

“I feel like today I was forced to confront some hidden… feelings…” you trailed off.

He took your chin in two of his fingers and slowly forced you to look him dead in the eye, his long, pretty eyelashes fluttering as he blinked.

“Hidden feelings? You don’t… You don’t like me, do you? Like… Uh… Do you like me?”

“Yes, and I have for a long time now. Since that day in the library when you came in to ask Mike about Lucas’ whereabouts as the basketball championship had started.”

He blinked at you, stunned. How could such a beautiful girl like the freak of Hawkins? Well, you know what they say; Never judge a book by its cover.

“You’re always reading! I never thought you would feel this way… Too busy falling in love with the characters in your books. And why would you like me like that anyways? You don’t— You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I’m not! I love you, Edward Munson!”

“What? But why would you ever—“ He began, but you cut him off, coiling your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you as your lips met his in a deep kiss.

As he spun you around, you blocked out the sounds of the kids’ fake gagging, and you could feel Robin and Steve smiling like proud workers for Murray “Cupid” Bauman.

Butterflies kissed the inside of your stomach as Eddie tucked a wayward strand of your hair behind your ear, leaning back in to pepper your face with soft, sweet kisses.

“I” kiss “love” kiss “you” kiss “too” kiss “,Hargrove.”

Kiss.

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #billy hargrove #eddie munson x hargrove!reader #hargrove!reader #fanfic #fluff #graduation au #eddie gets the graduation he deserves #my love for shakespeare’s work shows here lol #i described mike as being mean because he kind of is to people who aren’t his friends anyways sooo #murray plays cupid again with the help of mom and our wine aunt robin #i gave this an old romance novel vibe while trying to keep it 80’s #i don’t think it worked but let’s pretend it did #eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson imagine

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peterpparkrr · 2 years

Text

like real people do (pt 1)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x pianist!reader

Summary: He was a metal guitarist. She played piano. Can I make it any more obvious?

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Still haven’t recovered. Here’s some non-canon-related fluff.

part 2 part 3 part 4

Eddie Munson is a metalhead drug dealer with a penchant for failing Chemistry.

And the girl who works at the music store is an uptight goodie-two-shoes.

Seriously. Eddie Munson had been Nancy Wheeler’s partner in a biology lab for a month and had thought she was bad.

But you were a whole new ball game. Perfect grades and perfect manners were one thing. But you were also infuriatingly kind.

It would be one thing if you just scoffed when he walked through the door and ignored him until he found the sheet music he was looking for.

But it’s worse than that.

You were annoyingly helpful.

And not in the fake-nice customer service-y way. You didn’t just plaster on a fake smile and nod at customers until you turned your back.

No, you were interested. You asked them curious and thoughtful questions and offered real, useful advice.

Even to people like Eddie.

Every time he goes for new music you help him find it, you ask him questions about his band, and ring him up, all with a cheery smile.

Pretending like you care. Like you’re actually interested in knowing anything about him.

And he knows exactly who you are. Everyone does. It’s a pretty small town, and you’re the ‘Prodigy of Hawkins’. Their pride and joy. You are quite possibly the best musician that Hawkins Indiana had ever produced. Not that that was really saying that much. But you’d been gifted since you could barely reach the pedals of the baby grand in the Hawkin’s community center theater.

You’re supposed to be pretentious, your parents drive you up to Indianapolis on the weekends where you play at the concert hall. Their symphony orchestra has accompanied YOU.

Yet when you’re not performing for packed concert halls, you’re accompanying choir concerts and middle school plays, and teaching little kids how to play the piano, all without an air of self-importance.

He heard you even got a scholarship to Juilliard. New York. He had been fuming with jealousy.

It was always prissy rich girls like you that get out of towns like this, and he’s already been stuck here two years longer than he was supposed to be.

You shouldn’t want anything to do with a guy like him.

And he shouldn’t want you either. I mean, you are definitely not his type.

And yet, he can’t help but feel drawn to you.

Which is probably why he spends all of his money on sheet music and guitar strings.

“Hi, Eddie!” Your voice calls out from behind a row of sheet music when Eddie walks in. You must be organizing stock. Usually, you’re behind the counter with a textbook, or at the display piano playing through a concerto like it’s a nursery rhyme. “Give me one sec and I’ll be right with you.”

Eddie nods as he moves to peruse the new arrivals. As the only music store in Hawkins, you carry just about anything and everything, which is definitely the only reason that Eddie still shops here. Somehow you manage to carry sheet music and tabs for just about every genre under the sun.

“So what can I help you with,” You ask as you finally manage to make your way over to Eddie with a smile.

“Just looking for some new music, you don’t have Master of Puppets yet, do you?” Eddie asks, hardly lifting his eyes from the sheet music he’s flipping through.

“Yes we do,” You say with a grin as you lead him towards the register. “I had a feeling you’d want to get your hands on it,” You add as you pull it out from underneath the register and place it in front of him with a slight flourish as he eagerly grabs the music from the counter and flips through the pages.

“Anything else I can do for you?” You ask as you watch him with mild amusement.

“Uh, nah, I’ll just take this one,” Eddie replies when he finally looks up.

“Sounds good,” You say as you type it into the cash register. “That’ll be 4.99,” You tell him.

He grabs some cash out of his pockets and hands it to you.

“So are you adding this to Corroded Coffin’s setlist?” You ask as you put the money in the register and grab him his change.

Eddie glances up at you in surprise, impressed that you remembered his band name from the last time he was here.

“Maybe, I kinda just want to try it out for myself first, see if I can even manage it,” He tells you.

“Of course you can,” You scoff as you hand him his change. “Eddie, I’ve seen you play at school, you’re amazing,” You tell him as you grab a bag for the music.

“Right,” Eddie replies awkwardly, completely unprepared for the compliment. He had kind of assumed that if the band ever played anything written after 1900 that your ears bled.

“Hey, uh, we play Tuesday nights at The Hideout,” Eddie tells you before he can fully think it through. “By no means are we at your level, I mean we play to 5 drunks on a good night but…”

“I’d love to hear your guys, I’ll try and catch you next week,” You tell him with a nod as you smile back at him.

“Cool,” Eddie says with a nod as you hand him his bag.

“Bye, Eddie,” You reply as he walks out the door.

You stick out like a sore thumb. It wasn’t hard for Eddie to pick you out in the crowd, even if the bar is just as slow as it usually is on a Tuesday night.

Your swingy skirt and blazer-like jacket make you look like you’re going to a recital, not a dive bar.

At least you were in all black.

“You actually came,” Eddie greets you as he saunters up to where you’re sitting after their set.

“Of course,” You reply quickly as you turn and see him making his way over, smiling. “I mean, is it alright that I did? I assumed that it was an open invitation but if it wasn’t I-”

“Yes, yes, sorry, I just thought you’d have had a better invitation since then,” Eddie replies, gently cutting off your ramblings.

“Oh, god no,” You blurt out before you can stop yourself from sounding like even more of a loser. “Classically trained pianists don’t exactly have a lot of social credit,” You tell him with a shrug.

“I don’t ah, have a lot of friends. And the ones I do have are mostly middle-aged musicians who live in Indianapolis,” You admit. “So thank you, for inviting me, you guys are very talented.”

“Hope we didn’t burst your eardrums,” Eddie replies with a smirk as he leans against the table.

“Are you kidding? I love Metallica,” You tell him as you press a hand to your heart.

You’d thought it would be obvious, you love music more than anything, and can’t think of a single genre that you don’t enjoy, that’s why you’re always pushing your manager to order just about any music under the sun.

“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re joking,” Eddie replies, his eyes narrowing slightly as he steps back to study you.

“I’m not joking,” You protest. “What, did you think I danced around in my bedroom to Bach?”

“Honestly….” Eddie trails off teasingly as he tips his head slightly.

Eddie didn’t really know what he imagined you listening to. If he was thinking about you dancing around your bedroom he usually wasn’t putting much thought into the soundtrack.

“Ugh, you’re the worst,” You reply as you shove at his shoulder, shaking your head.

“Nah, I had pegged you for a Beatles girl though,” Eddie confesses.

“Rude,” You reply with a huff as you look at him.

His eyes are already on you. And you can feel him studying you closely. Normally you’d shy away from the attention. People always assumed you enjoyed the spotlight. But honestly, if you didn’t love the music so much you wouldn’t be able to bear it, the constant attention always felt so prying and invasive.

But Eddie’s attention didn’t feel that way. You wanted to challenge it with your own. You’d been watching him for as long as you could remember. You found him deeply curious, with so many complexities that you just wanted to understand, even if you could never quite unpack all of them.

And you felt him studying you now in the same way. Like he understood parts of you that no one else did.

And you liked it.

“Well, I’m sure you have adoring groupies waiting for you somewhere,” You finally say. Cutting through the silence and the tension as you pull your gaze away to scan the bar. Not sure what you’re looking for since the only people here are the regulars sitting at the bar, and Eddie’s bandmates, over at a booth in the corner shouting loudly.

“I really don’t,” Eddie replies quickly with a glance behind him at his band. “Me and the guys usually just get a drink after a show, Jeff always wants to do a play-by-play so that we can ‘improve’,” Eddie tells you with a scoff as he throws up air quotes.

“You wouldn’t want to go get a drink, would you?” Eddie asks after a moment. “And just talk?”

“Yeah, I’d really like that,” You tell him with a small smile.

#stranger things #stranger things imagines #stranger things reader insert #stranger things imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #stranger things x reader

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howfarethestars · 6 months

Text

let all time slow (let all light go)

rating: e

word count: 2172

pairing: thor x brunnhilde | valkyrie

There is something poetic about the way starlight falls across the floor. Glistening like shards of a mirror, it reflects off the rows of liquor bottles and glass beer mugs that line the back shelves of the bar on the deepest level of the Statesman. How starlight even reaches down here would be a mystery if it weren’t for the massive windows that gape like the mouths of behemoths and swallow every ounce of light in the sky.

Brunnhilde blames the waxing nature of her thoughts on the glitter in her drink. She grabs the rims of the glass and swirls the liquid inside just to see how the light catches. It reminds her of the distant galaxies she soared through on Aragorn’s back. She’d always loved the stars. Her youngest memories were lit by constellations. Sitting atop her father’s shoulders, his large hands tracing lines through those distant dots as he told her stories of swans and bears.

At this point, she is well and truly wasted. She only thinks of her father when she’s wasted.

Thor is the same way. Only, where Brunnhilde keeps thoughts of her father locked up tight in her own head, Thor lets them spill out everywhere. Like the beer soaking into the light red fabric of his shirt, his emotions run out of his mouth and down his chest.

“…never thought he was a bad father,” Thor mumbles, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the bar. He stands behind it, mixing shitty drinks for Brunnhilde to choke down. Which she does, like a champ. “Not even when I was afraid of him.”

Brunnhilde frowns. “I am not drunk enough to hear you talk about your complicated relationship with your dad,” she says, knocking back half of her glittery cocktail. She groans. Thor is no bartender. “Plus, my relationship with your dad is way worse. I mean, way worse.”

Thor lifts his head. His cheeks are flushed. In the starlight, his skin looks blue. But not his cheeks, not his lips. Those are the inciting shade of an apple, slick with morning dew. “Sorry,” he says, and Brunnhilde knows he means it. He doesn’t say anything he doesn’t mean, not to her. “How old were you when you became a Valkyrie?”

Brunnhilde blinks at him. It takes a moment for her brain to retrieve the information. “I started training when I was 14.”

A smirk, lopsided and boyish, spreads over Thor’s face. “Train me.”

He’s pushing back off the bar and making his way around the other side of it before Brunnhilde can even process the words. The bar was once part of a larger dance club, or so they assumed, so there is a large tile floor open behind where Brunnhilde sits now. Tables and chairs, covered with tarp-like fabric, have been pushed out of the way. It’s the perfect place for a makeshift training room, she has to admit.

“C’mon, mighty Valkyrie,” Thor says. He grabs her elbow gently, turning the stool with her atop it. She’s just drunk enough that the movement makes her dizzy, so she reaches up to grab at Thor’s forearm for stability. “Woah, there.”

When the room stabilizes, Thor’s giving her a blinding grin. Brighter than the stars outside, he’s glowing. “Valkyries do not merely train,” she says, an echo of the words told to her by her captain so many years ago. She can still remember standing, shorter than every other girl that had shown up to try out, squinting through the sunlight at the woman who would become her greatest inspiration. “Your body will learn to break, your mind will learn to rebuild it. Can you handle it, your majesty?”

Somehow, this makes Thor look even more excited.

When Brunnhilde had first heard it, it had affected her just the same way.

They start off slow. Brunnhilde kicks his feet apart, forcing him into the proper stance. She grabs his wrists and brings them up, curls his fingers into fists, and takes a step back to examine her work. They’re both so beyond drunk that they’re not worth anything. He would be useless if she wanted to kill him, but she couldn’t inflict any damage if she wanted to, either.

“Good enough,” she says anyway. Thor beams. “I’m going to try to take you down. Keep your weight centered. Don’t try to take me down yet. Just keep yourself upright.”

Thor nods, and Brunnhilde rushes forward. She targets his weakest points, swinging a knee towards his kidneys. He absorbs the hit, wincing but never faltering. Just as he starts to grin, thinking he’s won, Brunnhilde drops down and swipes both his feet out from under him.

“Fuck!”

The impact of his body against the floor rattles the bottles on the bar shelves. Before he has a chance to get up, Brunnhilde swings a leg over his middle and straddles him. Her hands find the base of his throat. Not to choke him, just to remind him that she can.

“Tap out,” Brunnhilde says, not even winded. Thor gasps for breath under her. She feels his windpipe constrict under her palms. “C’mon, majesty. Get up so I can teach you how to properly—“

Thor’s hand is cupping the back of her head, and she’s staring up rather than down at him, now. Her legs are still wrapped around his middle, ass hovering off the ground. Thor’s body cages her in. He slides his hand out from beneath her hair, handling her with more care than anyone has in a long, long time.

The heavy thumping in her chest shocks her, the way it feels as though her heart is trying to burst free, trying to get to him. And oh god, are her hips lifting towards his? Is her mouth parted from shock, or to allow his tongue to slip inside?

Thor leans down, and all that erratic beating of her heart stops at once, but instead of pressing his lips to hers, he brings them to brush against her ear. “What was that, Valkyrie?”

Her body is on fire, skin alight. Alcohol dulling the senses must be a myth. She feels Thor’s barely-there touch in every corner of her body. She smells not just the booze that clings to his breath or the sweat on the back of his neck, but him. He smells like the air before a storm. He smells like anticipation.

“Thor…” she breathes, the want dripping from her voice.

He lifts his head until he’s hovering just inches above his face. For a long moment, he doesn’t speak. His eyes rake over her face. Somehow he makes even stillness sinful.

When he finally speaks, he steals the breath from her lungs. “Teach me how to properly fuck a Valkyrie.”

“Gladly,” she breathes, then tilts her chin until her lips meet his.

It’s a messy, drunken kiss, their first. But it doesn’t occur to Brunnhilde to mind, doesn’t even occur to her to note the significance of first, not yet.

They shouldn’t be doing this on the floor. If she were to put her hand down, she’d probably be touching at least 3 layers of grime and sticky residue, but Brunnhilde can’t find it in herself to be disgusted. Not when the king of Asgard’s deft fingers are sliding her pants down over her hips. Not when he’s grabbing the backs of her knees, prying them open, placing them over his shoulders.

He’s a devotee at the altar. His mouth makes a scalding path from her right knee up to her thigh. Pulsing, intoxicating heat runs through her core.

It takes every ounce of strength she has to keep from squirming away from him. She wants this, so badly it hurts, so badly that it scares her. Thor must sense it, because he leans back, dragging his hands up from behind her knees to rest on her hips. His fingertips press into her skin, just hard enough for her to feel it, for it to ground her.

The moment slows. Brunnhilde lifts her head to see the top of Thor’s, trying to memorize the sight of Asgard’s young king buried between her thighs. It’s a beautiful thing. The stars wink at her from behind his head. She reaches down and tangles her fingers in his cropped hair, dragging her nails over his scalp. Thor moans, to her delight.

Thor’s mouth finally makes contact with her core, eliciting a strangled moan of her own. Her grip on his hair tightens. It’s been a long time since anyone had gone down on her. Her hookups on Sakaar tended to be short and sweet, just good enough to take the edge off, never good enough to take the same person twice.

When Thor’s tongue moves against her, licking a fat stripe from her entrance to her swollen clit, she thinks she may be ruined. He laps at her steadily with a skilled tongue. How much experience has he had, she wonders? How many maidens had he cut his teeth on? How many court ladies came undone beneath him the same way she feels herself breaking now?

She is overtaken with the urge to ask him. As if his history is hers for the taking. She wants to understand. He moves his tongue, the stiff peak of it, in a quick circle. Who taught him that? When did he learn?

Brunnhilde writhes against the floor, wishing despite the grime that she was naked. In her drunkenness, it takes her a long moment to realize she can be. She can be, without even disturbing Thor’s so-very-important work. So she leans up, pulling her tank top over her head, exposing her tiny lace bra. It had been found in a pile of similarly useless pretty things in some closet, thoroughly washed, and given to her by a blushing Thor.

He had guessed her size.

This was always going to happen.

Thor had begun working his way under her skin from the moment she first laid eyes on him. He was always going to get this close. She was always going to put up a little fight, then let him.

It’s inevitable when his tongue pushes inside her. More than just the cliche of right, it feels as though he was always there. Just out of reach.

One of his hands abandons her hips and slides down. A long, slender finger traces the curves and lines of her lower lips. A second spreads her open, giving Thor that much more access. A groan falls from her lips.

“Is this,” Thor breathes, pausing in the middle of his sentence to wrap his lips around her clit and suck, then pull away again, “the proper way, hm? To fuck a Valkyire?”

Brunnhilde hums. “It’s one of many proper ways.”

Thor laughs against her, then continues his work. Those deft fingers slip one by one inside of her, widening to stretch her. It feels glorious. For a long while, he doesn’t move them in or out. Instead, he alternates between curling upwards and opening her up.

She hurtles towards orgasm almost embarrassingly quickly. As she feels the first build, she’s already aching for another. She wants him in every way she can get him. She craves his weight on top of her body, the sight of him beneath her, the burn of him deep inside.

Pathetic, she feels pathetic for just a moment. A visit from her sober mind. A reminder that she is unworthy of this, and that she will inevitably ruin Thor by contact, that they’re both just drunk and horny and none of it will mean anything come hangover and morning.

But then she comes, and the thoughts are banished.

For a moment. (A longer moment than usual, at least.)

When Brunnhilde comes down, she pulls her hands out of Thor’s hair. She inspects her nails, subtly, to make sure she hasn’t drawn blood. Thor presses one last kiss to her clit, then slides his fingers out of her. He brings those two fingers to his lips and licks them clean.

Brunnhilde almost melts into the metal floor.

Thor presses the palms of his hands into the stiff muscles of her thighs, massaging as he asks, “Are you okay to keep going?”

Brunnhilde leans up, pressing her lips to his. She tastes herself there, amongst the liquor and sweat. She had planned on pulling back to tell him, “Yes.”, but the longer she kisses him, the less she wants to stop. It’s enough answer as anything, though, when she slips her hand into the waistband of his pants. Thor groans against her lips when she finds his cock.

She snickers, pulls back. “Not so cocky now, are you?”

Thor meets her gaze. There’s not an ounce of amusement in his one remaining eye, only want. Then he smiles into a kiss and clutches her hips again. “I’m all yours, Val.”

Brunnhilde believes every word.

“Let’s find a bedroom, then, shall we?”

A slick grin spreads across Thor’s face. “After you.”

#marvel #mcu #thor #thor odinson #thor x valkyrie #my writing #fanfiction #thorval #thor smut #valkyrie smut #valkyire #brunnhilde #mcu fic

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thealleydog · 9 months

Text

LONG LONG LONG STORYTIME ABOUT HOW MY LIFE GOT FLIP TURNED UPSIDE DOWN THIS PAST WEEKEND (tldr at the bottom)

Guest starring @wint3r-h3art ~! 💖💖💖

This is chisme. Gossip. Personal life stuff. But I am, still, very much unemployed.

This wasn't on my 2023 bingo card. I didn't know this was gonna happen when I ate those grapes under the table of a New York dive bar. But sometimes you gotta get your heart broke before you can shake some shit up.

My mentor and close friend owns the tattoo shop we work(ed) at. He taught us how to tattoo on top of some real-life lessons. And if people were to ask me, I'll always credit him for getting me to where I am now. But this bitch is a severely traumatized, unmedicated bipolar who ends up taking it out on the people closest to him. Amazing man who wants to be a good person to his people. But - untreated and refuses therapy.

And while he can be a good man, he will put your ass THROUGH IT. I'm telling you, my homie, Fabian, and I literally had almost quit our apprenticeships because we were helping him build that shop, and it was STRESSFUL. But it made us tough. Instead, I settled for a full mental breakdown along the shore and stared at the lake for an hour or so.

(Side note, why does crying clear up the face and make you look beautiful??? That's no makeup right there?!?!)

We two and our other homie, Primo, have been there for the beginning. I'm talking as soon as quarantine was lifted enough that shops in the city were allowed to reopen and could cut our hair again. (I got a shaggy mullet.) So that's three years of our lives to give to this shop and him. Everyone else that came in and was with us to the end are literally amazing people. Like the social circle we had there was something we don't wanna let go of. And he was almost like our dad in a way.

Anyways! So this summer hasn't been the best and in an effort to get new blood and clients into the shop, four of us decided to work a booth at Anime Magic and represent the shop. There was a whole row just for tattoo artists and we knew a handful of them from other shops. (The community is surprisingly small.) We spent about a month worrying and preparing and buying supplies. It's mine and Mari's first con, but Fabian and David knew what to do and we passed inspection.

All's good, right? I'm excited. I booked @wint3r-h3art and her husband! They came all the way from Boston to get stabbed by me. (Which oh my god I'm still humbled someone would do that!)

So I'm tattooing my first internet friend I get to meet in real life...

Then Mari stopped tattooing and showed me the mass text we got from him.

Bro.

My heart fell into my ass and I felt the world crumble. It was so embarrassing. Had to pull up my big girl panties and knock out these tattoos though. I ain't no punk.

At the end of the night, Fabian and I try to call him, trying to see where his headspace is at and if he's okay. He didn't answer at first, but he called back. I didn't say anything because I was sitting all quiet, full of disappointment and crying a bit. Fabian tried to tell him we are here for him and we love him - only for him to hang up on us.

So we head to the shop to check on every still there. The mood is just...

Everyone is heart broken and disappointed and scared even. But the kicker is the lady who does the office paperwork felt safe enough to tell us how he was acting lately. How he'd talk shit about us and vent his frustrations to her. But he'd act more than okay with us. Even when we would talk to him, he never showed his feelings about anything he vented to her. His mental health was definitely getting worst and with four of us at the convention, all he wanted was for something to go wrong that Friday.

And it did. One of the artists has to go back to her home country for surgery because of a numbness that has been bothering her for three years. She told us she was gonna put her two weeks in and work a little at other places until she had to leave. So when she holds his hands and begins to tell him "I have to leave -"

"Okay then go. Pack your stuff immediately."

Didn't give her a chance to explain or talk even when she begged him to listen. Had to pack her stuff into garbage bags.

Then he sent that massive text that morning we were at the convention.

Mind you, we are a crew of nine people, including two baby apprentices. We think we ain't got jobs. I was able to not think about it the rest of the night because Linda and her hubs were so awesome, and I got to eat and drink something for the first time since 8 or 9 am. (But for real, you guys are the highlight of my story so far!) Anxiety? Betrayal? The streets??? On an empty stomach, good Lord. ⚰️

Day 2 and Day 3 go by. We're still tattooing. But now people are starting to ask questions. So we tell them our situation. It's like blood in the water.

"Come work with us!"

"We got spots!"

"You should come by and talk to the owner of our shop."

Apparently our shop has a GOOD reputation. And all the artists do good work so people want us to work for them.

The now Refuge Gang decided on Sunday night to go to shop and just clean out our equipment, which would leave the owner with a very empty shop on Monday. We just didn't want to deal with him anymore considering he was being very manic with his texting and how he was responding to people in the shop. Gave no illusion that he would change his mind.

That night I felt empty and lost. I felt terrible about that this had to happen with him. He really saved me by teaching me. But this was abusive. With a heavy heart, I was the last to leave my key in the office. Wasn't expecting to cry.

We ended the night with Korean BBQ, plum wine, and several shots of shochu.

I think everything is gonna be alright. He tried to call me twice during this whole thing. But I ignored it because I'm not going back and I need space from him for a long time. Still love him, but that was something I won't tolerate anymore is people abusing me in any shape or form. Even cherished friends.

I have a job lined up not too far from my place and I'll be apprenticing one of the babies from the old shop as part of the deal! Even though she's like my age, but Dani's awesome as fuck. Gotta step my pussy up and guide her and myself on this wild unknown road!

Fingers crossed I just need to meet the boss this Friday to iron out the details. But this one is set up where I could actually... have a life. I can be an artist again. A real, piece of shit, beautifully grotesque, smut artist that I've been! (Check out my Instagram and scroll down, you'll see what I mean.) The Refuge Gang have started a group chat to support and look out for each other. We're making sure everyone will be working again and stable. Someone us even got into some real Chicago staple shops! I'm proud of all these talented hoes.

AND and, HOPEFULLY, because we liked each other so much and we're all incredibly talented - Fabian has spearheaded an idea and is in the works of starting an artist collective! Working on getting funding, investors, a building, THE WORKS. That way we can be artists AND tattoo artists. We'll be our own bosses. If everything goes well, we should have everything organized by the spring. It takes fucking forever for shit to happen in Chicago, but we'll be having meetings to talk and work together on this project.

TLDR: My homie got me and the Refuge Gang fucked up but we're wily. Tattooing isn't for punk bitches.

#STORYTIME #tattooing is wild

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lunapwrites · 2 years

Text

Applied Theory - Backhand

There were few things worse than being wrong, in Remus' opinion, but one of them was the mortifying ordeal of having to say "I don't know."

Why did he have a Howler following him around? Someone's cruel idea of a joke, probably. Why did it keep shouting in French? Because the person who sent it was French, obviously, now please turn to page fifteen. What was it saying? Well, aside from spewing insults, it was giving a spirited lecture on defensive theory and charms mechanics -- would you like me to translate? Because I could do the whole thing in my sleep, if it would let me -- no? Then please, for the love of Merlin, turn to page fifteen.

He'd scarcely slept since Sunday and had a splitting migraine he couldn't shake, so naturally his fifth years were being particularly nosy curious today, culminating in him snapping "I don't know how it works, Hermione!" following the girl's hundred and eighth question about how the cursed Howler was still functioning after a week.

And if (key word) he had more than two functioning brain cells left he might have better appreciated Black's handiwork, but as he did not, he was left rubbing his temples and mumbling out an apology as his forehead hit his desk.

"... A-are you alright, Professor?"

(Hermione again, sounding like he'd kicked her puppy.)

"Never better."

"Do you need the hospital wing? We could always cancel class."

Remus lifted his head with an unimpressed glare.

"No, but nice try Seamus."

The boy shrugged and sat back in his seat, and Remus let his gaze slide down the row to Harry, who was watching the Howler circling around the blackboard with a scholar's interest.

"What have you tried to get rid of it?" Harry asked lightly, and despite the impulse to shout fucking everything, he recognised that his godson was attempting to give him a reprieve in the form of a new lesson plan.

Good lad. Clever lad. Remus supposed he could conveniently "misplace" the detention schedule for the following week in thanks.

"The usual battery," he admitted tiredly. "Finite, Silencio, Evanesco, Inflamare--"

"You tried to set it on fire?"

"'Tried' being the operative term, obviously," Remus sighed. "It ended up duplicating and started shouting at me in a round. Lasted about an hour."

Hermione frowned. "What happened when you tried to Silence it?"

"Oh, I can just show you that one." He drew his wand lazily, pointing it at the still-shouting envelope. "Silencio!"

The Howler sputtered furiously, flapping about his head like an enraged bird. "Comment oses-tu essayer de me faire taire?" it shrieked. "Je n'ai jamais été aussi insulté de toute ma vie! Tu as eu ton tour de parole, espèce d'âne! Maintenant, c'est mon tour!"

It returned to its position floating behind him, gave an imperious little sniff, and returned to lecturing at top volume.

"As you can see, it does not take kindly to interruptions." Remus looked out over the room of students, taking in their conflicted expressions. "It's quite alright to laugh; I'm fully aware it's ridiculous."

A spattering of uncomfortable giggles rippled through the class; Hermione, however, was eyeing the Howler speculatively, mouthing something to herself.

Neville raised his hand. "Have you tried throwing a blanket over it? I know that usually works for my gran's birds."

"I have; it vanished the blanket."

"Shut it outside?" suggested Susan.

"You know I actually tried that one several different times." Remus began counting off on his fingers: "It's come back through the floo, using the school owls, and once even smuggled itself in using Hagrid's beard... which was rather upsetting for both of us, come to think of it."

"Is there a password, you think?" Ron asked. "Like, maybe there's a specific thing you need to say."

Like the map, he meant. It was a good idea, but Remus shook his head. "I've tried a few things of that sort -- even told it that it was right -- but nothing seems to faze it."

"Professor," Hermione ventured slowly, "the caster is French, yes?"

"He is, yes."

"I realise you've probably already tried this, but... have you attempted the Gallic variations of any of the spells? Or only the Romance?"

Remus blinked.

"I've... tried Goidelic, Brythonic, and Romance," he admitted slowly, "but I must confess I'm not... particularly well-versed in Gallic spellwork, specifically. Could you give us an example?"

Hermione pinked. "Well, I suppose it's technically a sub-family of Romance," she explained hastily, "but Gallic variants are commonplace all throughout France and Spain. It's not something we'd typically run into anywhere in the United Kingdom, so it's not like... well, erm... anyway--" she raised her wand. "Silencio."

The Howler paused, quivering in the air, and then--

SMACK!

Remus clutched the back of his head as the cursed letter continued haranguing him:

"Hah! Il semble que cette petite fille ait plus de bon sens que toi, même si elle reste une anglaise mal élevée. Peut-être qu'elle appréciera mes leçons."

Hermione wrung her hands, tears springing to her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Professor! I was so sure that might work!"

"It is acting differently, though!" Hannah assured her. "I mean... isn't it?"

"What's it matter?" Zacharias whinged. "It's still giving me a bloody headache!"

The students began bickering amongst themselves, and Remus was dimly aware that he should stop them, to try to restore some semblance of order to his classroom -- at least before Harry leapt over his desk and punched Smith in the nose on principle. (Or maybe not; Smith was a bit of a twat.)

But all he could think about was Hermione's wand movement: normally, the Silencing Charm was performed with a swish and a downward slash, directed inward, but Hermione had instead ended with an outward slash, making an X.

Goidelic and Brythonic spellwork was historically wandless, or else utilising either more ritual elements or larger external foci, and frequently lengthy incantations. Because of that, it had never occurred to him to look for other ways to cast the same spells he'd been taught throughout his formal education. They were the standard. Wand movements were what they were: you couldn't just... change them, could you?

But then... what was magic but another language? Sure, there was physics and geometry and whatever else involved, but it was still a manner of communicating one's will to the cosmic energy that made up the... well, the everything. So why couldn't there be dialects, so to speak? And if there were dialects, then...

Remus let out a sharp whistle, quieting the class (and pretending not to notice that Ron had Smith in a headlock.) "Hermione. Do you by any chance happen to know if there is a Gallic variant of the Shield Charm?"

And miracle of miracles, the girl nodded, demonstrating a flawless Protego. It was just as he suspected: her wand began in the overhand position, rather than the underhand position, changing the starting angles of both her wand arm and the wand itself significantly. The formulas he used would have to be adjusted to account for... shit.

"Bugger me..." he muttered, slumping into his seat. "He was right."

At this, the Howler quieted and burst into flames, shredding itself.

Remus stared at the pile of ash, utterly appalled. That... absolute bastard.

"I thought you said you'd tried that already," Ron accused, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but he didn't mean it."

Remus took a deep (calming) breath and stood, brushing himself off. It didn't matter. "Precisely, Harry. An excellent example of one of the core tenets of spell theory," he said wryly. "Intent is everything. Hermione, ten points to Gryffindor for thinking outside the box -- and for saving us all further headache."

It provided a remarkably smooth transition into his lesson plan (foundations of non-verbal casting) and so the rest of the class went off without a hitch (other than Smith's suspiciously rumpled appearance) and he was able to dismiss the class for supper feeling at least moderately accomplished for the day.

A mortifying ordeal, perhaps... but also enlightening.

He would need to revisit his notes and make the necessary adjustments, call his team in for more testing, which they'd hate -- maybe some of his NEWT students would be interested if he offered extra credit, or in exchange for a free pass on an essay; no one liked essays. And perhaps he could see if Hermione was interested in some observation hours, given that this was only possible due to her contribution (and would be credited as such; he was proud and perhaps even a little arrogant, but he was not a thief.)

But first... well, first he was going to take a fucking nap, but after that, he was going to make his own modified Howler. With... like... timed releases or something. Make Black think it was over and then BAM! Shouting at him in the loo in like... fuckin' Welsh or something. Maybe not Welsh, no one knew Welsh. German, maybe -- his German was pretty good... if he wanted to ask where the library was, anyway. And with his luck, Black probably knew German, and wouldn't be cowed by a fuckin... like... paper crane screaming "WO IST DIE BIBLIOTHEK?" at top volume. Actually, the paper crane wasn't a bad idea... Lily had a book on origami, he could ask her.

... After his nap, anyway.

#applied theory #hp #remus lupin #sirius black is a little shit #a+ professoring there moony #get this man a coffee #like ten coffees #hermione saved the day #fic #update #writing #my writing #this has been in my drafts for MONTHS #hope it meets standards.

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