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supersizemeplz · 3 years

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Spend the Night

Erik Stevens x Black PlusSized Reader

Another #supersizedfic short. Ok, so right off the back I wanna say that towards the end it gets explicit. Since I started writing a lot of fluff, I feel so vulgar when I actually write something steamy. I was contemplating on whether or not to post it here but I thought why not. When I say this has been sitting in my drafts forever, I am not exaggerating. I didn’t know exactly what to do with it so I’m just putting it out to be seen. So I hope you enjoy!

The chattering of characters played on the television screen, once amusing to the couple that rested on the earth toned sofa but now was nothing more than background noise as they conversed. It's sound was low in an attempt to not overwhelm them both, becoming aided with the captions on the screen if they happened to want to know what was going on in the movie. Its light spread out to at least a few feet behind the couch where the light over the recently cleaned kitchen island picked up its slack.

This wasn't your first time over his place but you never paid attention to the details. The house was honestly one of the best decorated homes you'd seen other than those from HGTV. You made sure not add those exact words to the compliment to hide your small addiction to the channel. Especially when you could name the patterns of the tile and back splash of his kitchen, then he'd definitely know that you were a homebody. After a half an hour phone call with Erik hours before on your lunch break, he'd persuaded you to spend the night at his place. Easily done since you were already planning to stop by after a few quick errands. He'd promised you to a homemade dinner, Netflix movies, your favorite wine, and a foot rub.

"Shutupp. I do not.." You chuckled at the joke Erik made, reaching forward to smack his arm as best as you could. Being sure not to waste any of the wine that you still had left in your glass. He smirked as he focused back on massaging your left foot, making sure to massage deep to relieve the tension. You relaxed back against the sofa after taking a sip of your wine with a happy sigh. "You cook like a master chef and have the hands of a God. I might have to keep you around Stevens."

He laughed at that, stopping his foot massage for a moment to cover his mouth as to soften his boom of laughter. You stifled a chuckle as he pretended to look hurt. "You might? I see how you really feel." Taking your foot gently, he moved it off of him to the floor. You sat your glass on the table beside you and leaned forward to catch his face, laughing as you seen him trying to stay serious.

"Awww, you know I'm just playing." You cooed as you pressed kisses to his cheek. "..my sensitive baby." He allowed the kisses, giving away his small smile from his dimples deepening. Turning his head to catch your lips in a few kisses, he ended the string of kisses with a deeper one. You hummed in the kiss as he placed a hand on your backside. Gripping the soft cushion just enough to get you stimulated before it was over. You sat there for a moment before opening your eyes and watching him get up from the couch.

"You done with this glass, babe?" He asked, grabbing his own glass before looking to you. You nodded, mumbling a soft 'yeah, I am'. He took the glasses and half empty bottle to the kitchen as he continued his conversation with you. You looked to him, admiring the way his shirt allowed you the sight of his back with small movements and the peek of skin once he reached up to place the glasses in the cabinet.

Standing from the softness of the couch, you adjusted your shirt and followed his faintly scented trail into the kitchen. He always smelled amazing. You hummed your acknowledgement as he spoke on some random topic, still in a bit of a daze from the kiss moments ago. Your arms slid around his body as he chuckled. "And you say I be all up under you." You grinned at his response, shrugging.

"And? You know you love me hugging on you, Stevens. Don't think those dimples of yours don't give away your little smiles." Releasing your grip, you headed off to the bedroom. Sending him a teasing look over your shoulder before you disappeared into the hallway. "Don't keep me waiting.."

Once you made it into the bedroom, you made your way to the bathroom to freshen up. Moments passed before Erik was doing the same, meeting you at the double sink to brush his teeth as well. Now shirtless with his sweats hanging just enough to catch the waistband of his briefs. His chuckling caught your attention and broke your admiration of him in the reflection of the mirror. Finishing up with brushing your teeth and washing your hands, you playfully rolled your eyes and left him to finish his nightly routine.

It felt like he was taking forever to come to bed. Doing that lengthy ass routine he'd done numerous times over the many times you both would facetime as you got ready for bed. You had slipped from the shirt and short set that had only been worn for a few hours, still catching the scent of perfume you dashed on to work like a pheromone. The soft fabrics hit the floor and you adjusted the lace, skin toned underwear that was left. Smoothing your hair down, you looked to the bathroom door as he switched off the light.

Silence. It filled the bedroom and swarmed around the both of you as you stood in front of the bed. The lamp that sat in the corner of the room illuminated your silhouette just enough for him to see the look you gave him. He grinned at your surprise, catching the slight nervousness in your body as he stepped closer. A hum of appreciation left him as he took his time to make it to you. Why in the hell did this man have you feeling like this was your first time? Maybe because it was with him.

Weeks of being wined and dined, fun little outings, nights on the phone, and building sexual tension came to this moment. He'd been a gentleman the whole time. Never pushing the matter on you and waiting for you to tell him what you wanted. And oh how you've wanted him. The thoughts had crossed your mind as well as a few wet dreams that you wouldn't dare let him find out about. Tonight, you decided you were tired of waiting and enduring the sweet torture of his charisma.

He sent a chill over you as he spoke suddenly. "You don't understand what you do to me, do you?" His fingers held your chin, thumb gently massaging the soft skin. "So pretty and delicate.." The darkness of lust clouded his eyes as he gave a slow once over of you. Your eyes admired the soft curve of his full lips instead. He smiled at the fact, chuckling when he seen you take a deep breath.

"Hey.." He caught your attention, speaking softly. "Eyes up here." You finally caught his gaze and he hummed when you did so. Taking a small step closer, he smiled as he leaned to your lips. "I need those eyes to stay on me. You got me?" His lips ghosted yours and you relaxed under his touch.

You gave a small nod as you looked up to meet his eyes. The touch of his fingertips felt like small sparks as they moved across your skin. Hooking beneath your bra strap and easing the band down your shoulder. "I want to hear that sweet voice of yours, baby.." You felt as he trailed them around you to unclasp the hooks at the back with ease. The fabric fell to the floor without a sound and he gave another satisfied hum. "Are you gonna be a good girl and keep those eyes on me?"

"Yes, baby.." You replied, allowing him to admire your lips this time. He gave a small smirk as he mumbled 'That's more like it, baby'. Your nipples were erect from both sexual and actual atmosphere. His thumb brushed over the sensitive bud and you bit your lip to suppress a moan, opting for a slow exhale. He looked to you and you seen a dimple to let you know he was toying with you. Seeing how long you could last with his slow burn.

You caught his lips suddenly, surprising him for only a second. He flowed with your slow kisses, smiling at the hunger in them. A moan slipped past your lips against his this time, fingers dancing at the waistband of his sweats. He chuckles at your lengthy nails attempting to work with the fabric. Taking over when you couldn't focus enough to get it.

"So eager.. Take it slow and tell me what you want me to do." He began to lower the sweats with ease before he slipped the soft cotton fabric from his legs. ".. that sexy ass voice you got and you really think you're not going to use it." A playful scoff followed the sentence before he licked his lips.

You looked to the bulge of his briefs before meeting his eyes again. "I want a taste.." The confession kind of surprised him though his face hadn't shown it. He watched you as you caught his gaze again, groaning when you gently palmed him. "May I?" You teased, using the moment to toy with him in return.

He didn't lose eye contact as you lowered before him. "I'm all yours.." The consent left his lips immediately. You hummed, pressing your lips against the fabric before massaging it. He exhaled as you did so. Your fingers finally caught at the waistband of his boxers to ease them down, and his length eagerly greeted you. That pulled a soft laugh from you.

"It's so pretty.." You mumbled the compliment, not focused on if he'd heard it or not. He groaned as you took your first taste of him. The warmth of your mouth made him pull his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes focused on your slow moments with fascination.

You closed your eyes, taking your time to work him up. He filled your mouth as much as he could before you eased him from your lips, hugging his tip. "Unh uh. What I say?" His hips pushed into your lips gently, enjoying the softness they provided. Opening your eyes, you look up to him as he wanted. He groaned softly as a smirk caught the corner of his lips. "There you go. Keep those eyes on me."

Your right hand left his thigh, lifting up to stroke him. "I'm sorry, baby. Forgive me?" You taunted, freeing your mouth for the moment. His lips parted once your tongue circled his fattened head, going back to work while slurping loudly for his enjoyment. The mumbles he spoke were barely audible over your pleasuring, but you made out some of the words and moan in agreement.

Releasing your lips from him with a pop, you look to his glistening dick. He hums as you stroke him again, trying his hardest not to move his hips in rhythm with you. "You're so fucking pretty.." The repeated confession gains your eye contact with him once again. And he reacts with another mumble of praise. He curses as you stare up at him with a smile. Your full lips all shiny and wet from saliva, matching the coat that covered him.

"Tell me again.." You tease with a sultry voice, seeing him chuckle at your cockiness. He tucks his bottom lip between teeth as amusement taints his features. And he repeats it a little louder. "Good boy." Rubbing him against your lips, you laugh as he weakens and leans forward slightly. The small words of praise caught him off guard, but he couldn't help his body reacting. He was losing dominance and didn't mind it.

"C'mere.." He stops you from your fun, gently standing you up. You squeal as he picks you up with ease. Resting you right above his hardened excitement. He grins as you hold onto his arms for support. "I want my pleasure to come from pleasing you.." Your body falls to the bed with a soft bounce. He rids himself of his underwear fully before he puts his attention on yours.

The light of the dim lamp catches his chain, glinting against his chest and bringing attention to his body. Reaching a hand out towards him, you ran your fingertips along his smooth, yet textured skin. Taking in the scars that he'd told you were a reminder of how far he'd came from unlearning his old ways. You moan as he bends down to press kisses to your tummy, showing it the love it deserved. The kisses becoming sloppier as they continued their way lower.

He hummed as he lifted your thighs, opening them enough to kiss their inner parts. His soft lips left tingles that felt they were going straight to your love button. "She's ready for me, huh?" The light stroke of his finger made you shift your hips closer, resulting in his chuckle. Both of your thighs were placed onto his shoulders and he began his delicate foreplay. Pulling a moan from before your hands found his dreads.

He licked his lips as he admired your body. "Let's see if I can get you to spend the night more often."

__________________

Taglist

@sisterwifeudaku @kumkaniudaku @wawakanda-btch @theunsweetenedtruth @chaneajoyyy @wakanda-inspired @princesskillmonger @liviy00 @xsweetdellzx @muse-of-mbaku @killmongerdispussy @thehomierobbstark @princessstevens @killmongerthiskoochie @cecereads209 @beautifullmelodyxx @soufcakmistress @melodyofmbaku @awerkofart

#black panther #oneshot #black reader #erik stevens #erik x reader #supersizedfic

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itcanbegoodagain · 3 years

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Gentle Love

More Everlark fluff, because, really, is there ever too much?

Word Count: 1821 (not really proofread)

Now that the need isn't so dire, it's harder for me to rise before the sun does. And, most times, it isn't a problem. There's no need for me to be up so early in the day. Summer, though, was a different story.

The sun was too damn hot!

So, with heavy and unwilling limbs, I rolled out of bed, straightening the sheets before washing up.

Minutes later, when I crossed into the kitchen, Peeta was already there, finishing breakfast at the table. He broke into a grin, making my lips lift into a smile back. He stood and grabbed the warming teakettle off the stove, filling a mug and placing it at my spot on the table.

Then he took a step over to me and gave me his customary good morning kiss on the crown of my head. At first, I teased him about doing it everyday, but now I wrap my arms around Peeta's stomach, not-so-secretly craving this gentle love every morning.

"Hi," I said softly, grinning and pressing a kiss to his shirt. He hugged me back, resting his cheek on my head. My eyes fell shut again, craving to return to sleep, while I basked in Peeta's steadiness. This little ritual we do always starts my day off on the right foot. The beat of his heart had almost lulled me back into a light sleep when he quietly said my name.

I squeezed him tighter, holding him close for another moment, and unwound myself from his embrace. One of his hands came up to rest on the side of my face. "I gotta head to the bakery now." His thumb lightly ran down my cheekbone. "I'll see you later. Have a good day," he added, and I replied in kind.

I heard the door shut behind Peeta as I sat down to my now cooling tea. Sipped it and, ah yes, the perfect temp. He even remembered to add the extra mint leaf. Quite a spoiled wife, I am.

By the time I finally deemed myself alert enough not to fall out of a tree, the sun was already climbing high in the sky. It was going to be a very hot day.

The animals are much smarter than I am, evidently. They were staying home, in their cool dens and nests, as one should on a day as blistering as this. Sweat was pooling in, just, all of everywhere. I was tired and uncomfortable, to put it lightly. The added bonus of nothing to show for the day really topped it all off.

It was a relief to finally return home, dumping my bow and bag as soon as I entered the door. I peeled my shoes off next, leaving them in the entryway. I'm usually the one fussing at Peeta for doing just that. When I reached our bathroom, the first thing I did was turn the shower on. My clothes were quickly shucked to the floor, the tie from my braid promptly following.

I closed my eyes as I stepped into the cool stream of water, running my fingers through my hair to get it thoroughly soaked. I spun in a slow circle, grateful for the simple luxury of a shower. Still, not one to be wasteful, I indulged in a few more minutes of sitting in the steady stream, then I stood and shut it off.

With the towel wrapped around me, I pondered what to wear as I looked at my closet. I tend to favorite pants, but there is no way. I decided on instead wearing my soft dressing gown, the thin fabric only brushing my knees surely going to keep me cool.

I sighed, pulling the fridge open. My lack of kills from this morning's hunt became glaringly evident, what with all these vegetables staring back at me. I reached in and grabbed a few different things, shutting the door with my hip as I turned around.

Then I got to work, cleaning and chopping as necessary, and put together a pretty nice salad, if I do say so myself. Light, fresh veggies from our garden out back, with a squeeze of lemon juice and cracked pepper sprinkled on top.

Air conditioning has yet to make it out to many places here in Twelve, so all of our windows were thrown wide open, the curtains moving in the summer breeze. I could hear Haymitch's geese honking over in his yard, and I grinned to myself. Geese, of all things to raise.

Peeta came in as I was setting my plate into the rack to dry, using a towel to wipe my hands. I leaned back against the counter, looking him up and down. Took in his sweat-soaked shirt, his flushed cheeks, his damp hair. I rose a brow. "Hot day in the bakery, was it?" I asked, breaking into a grin.

He rolled his eyes as he nodded, shooting me a snarky grin as he grabbed a glass of water. He quickly downed it, filling the glass up again before reaching over to snag my arm and bring me closer.

I backed up a step, his arm falling into the space between us. He sent me an exaggerated pout. "Nope, not until you take a shower. I'm already rinsed off, so no touching until you are, too."

Peeta tried to reach out again, this time for my other arm, and I evaded it. I gave him a look, and he held his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, I give. I'll go shower." Then he grinned, and I knew that look. "But not before I do this!" he said, quickly darting in and pressing a kiss to my cheek.

Before I even reacted, he took off for the stairs, yelling behind him, "Okay! Going! Love you!" as he went. I watched him go, touching my cheek as a flush spread its way across my face. His casual show of love sometimes still makes me shy, but I'm learning to take in every little moment he tells me that he loves me in a different way. I try to do the same for him in return -- he deserves that at the very least. At most, more than anything I could ever give him.

But I'm too selfish to let anyone else have him. And nobody else compares to me in his eyes, so there's really nothing to worry about at all, is there?

My smile slipped off my face over the next few minutes, but it easily returned when I caught Peeta's eye as he came down the stairs. He was wearing his undershorts and a t-shirt on top, also doing his best to stay cool. I stood and made my way over to him as he followed me with his eyes.

He took his hand and ran his fingers up my neck, over my jaw. Cupped my cheek, pulling my head closer as he slowly, deftly, kissed me. My breath caught in my throat, just for a moment. "Am I clean enough for you, now?" he asked, pressing his lips to mine again, gently biting at the bottom one. "I missed you almost as much as I melted in the heat."

I threw my head back and laughed. "Oh, I know. It's merciless out there. I don't even want to think about how hot it is in front of all those ovens."

"Precisely why I closed up early, my dear." He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "I said to hell with selling what was left in the case, so I shut off the ovens and passed it out on the way home. Knowing you were here may have aided in my decision, but really, who's to say?" He smiled at me again, a hint of mischief playing on his lips.

My heart swelled at his words. How I ended up with such a generous man as my husband, I will never know. Everything he does somehow makes me love him more, and I don't know how there can be much more room in my heart for it to keep growing.

"It's gonna be a meatless day today - no luck hunting this morning," I told him. It's not a problem if I don't get anything out on my hunts; we don't rely on what I bring home, but we vastly prefer it over the butcher's cuts. "There's also a salad in the fridge if you're hungry."

"A personal chef, just for me," he said, pulling the door open and taking the plate out. "Thank you."

I joined Peeta at the table, resting my chin in my hand as I looked out the window. Took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The need for sleep returned now that I had a full belly, and I closed my eyes. Oh, perhaps it's okay not to do anything the rest of the day. I could give myself this day of doing nothing. Perhaps I could convince Peeta to do the same.

I opened my eyes, turning my head to look back at Peeta. He was already watching me, his features soft in the sunlight. Yes, I thought, tilting my head, he will be easy to convince.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "What are you scheming up over there?"

I hummed. "Oh, nothing, really." Then I stood, walking around the table, and planted myself in his lap. One of my arms rested on his shoulder, my hand easily finding its place in his damp hair. Peeta's eyes fell shut as I lightly combed my fingers through his curls. He let out a small sigh. One of his hands traced back and forth on my thigh, the other one twining with my free hand in our lap. We stayed like this for a while, comfortable in the other person's company.

At some point, he began bestowing the lightest and softest kisses along my neck, his closest access point. Using the hand already in his hair, I brought his face up to mine, kissing his lips. He tasted like lemon.

"What do you say," I started, "to lazing around the rest of the day?"

He grinned. "Way ahead of you, my love." Kissed me again, this time with more pressure, my heart racing in response. "Well, maybe not exactly nothing...." he added, pulling me ever closer to him.

I laughed, feeling the warm pressure of our bodies against each other. "I thought that was a given in the term 'lazing around.'"

"It is. I just wanted to make sure you were aware of it."

I bit my lip, holding back a sarcastic response. My thumb tilted his chin up, our lips meeting in the middle for another kiss. He made a noise in the back of his throat when I lightly scraped my nail along his skin, and I grinned against his lips.

A good day to laze around, indeed.

#everlark #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #katniss and peeta #ficlet #fluff #the hunger games #post mockingjay #canon compliant #i struggled writing this so don't tell me if u think it's bad #i love peeta

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fairyoftbz · 3 years

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Bord de mer | k. younghoon

🧇 pairing: bf!younghoon x fem!reader 🧇 word count: 1.8k 🧇 genre: pure fluff, established relationship 🧇 tw: none 🧇 synopsis: after an intense day of working and studying, you decided to spend the evening out with your boyfriend. 🧇 requested: yes! thank u! 🧇 a/n: i’m a big softie for this man, i love him so much 🥺

╰☆☆☆☆╮

"Finally," you whispered, taking off your headphones after listening to a required documentary for your master's degree, stretching the muscles in your neck as you raise your arms above your head. Drinking the remaining of your glass of water down in one, you sighed and rose from your chair, massaging your temples with your fingertips. Usually, you didn't mind sitting at your computer watching a series or entertaining yourself all day but listening to a record on a boring topic was extremely tiring.

Opening your office door, you closed your eyes and smiled at the good smell that invaded the apartment. You were happy to know your boyfriend was home, feeling even happier when you didn't have to cook.

Younghoon was quietly bustling about behind the hotplates, a kitchen cloth resting on his shoulder. He was still in his outfit from work, his white shirt nicely tucked into his office pants. You walked up to him, stroking his shoulder blades in a gentle, slow motion, your boyfriend turning towards you with a smile. He kissed your forehead as he maintained to keep an eye on the food that was cooking in the pan, a fond smile on his lips.

"Good evening, baby," you said in a soft voice, kissing his cheek. "Honey, you've finally come out of your cave," he joked, and you let out a chuckle, guiltily biting your bottom lip. "I'm sorry, I had a lot to do, and I didn't see the time going by," you confessed and Younghoon shook his head, putting an arm around your waist to pull you to him. "I was kidding, Y/N, I know you are very busy. Is your project progressing well?" "I sent the third corrected draft to my professor assistant, I have a meeting with him sometime next week," your boyfriend listened and nodded at your words before bringing the wooden spatula to your lips after blowing on it. You opened your mouth and tasted if it was cooked, and you smiled at your boyfriend, approving while chewing on the food.

Younghoon handed you the cutlery and glasses that were in a cupboard out of your reach, and he pulled out two plates to set up the succulent dish he had prepared. You were about to get up to help him, but he was faster than you, setting two plates on the table, a bottle of homemade lemonade tucked under his arm. A succulent scent ran through your nostrils and you sit down in your chair, eager to taste what he had prepared for you.

"There you go, my dear," he smiled at you, placing your plate in front of you.

You thanked him by circling your arms around his neck, prompting him to lower himself so that you could kiss him on the cheek. He smiled at your gesture, quickly pressing his lips to yours before settling down in front of you. Planting his fork on his plate, he watched you out of the corner of his eye, chewing your eyes closed as you savoured the moment, your taste buds kicking in as multiple flavours entered your mouth.

"This is super good, Hoonie," you said as you grabbed his hand, "you did the job of a chef." He beamed at your compliment, taking a bite of meat. "Thank you, darling," he winked at you and you smiled back at him, reaching out to hold your hand. "My little researcher deserves a good meal after all her efforts," you chuckled at the nickname and continued to chew on your bite, losing yourself in your boyfriend's brown orbits.

Younghoon was a man of action. Rather than singing you songs and promising you the moon, even if it was something that he loved doing, he did everything possible to make you happy. If you wanted a pot of ice cream in the middle of the night or some croissants for breakfast, he was ready to go across town for you. He loved doing a lot of things with and for you, though whispering sweet words to you and how much he loves you in your ear remained one of his favourite hobbies. His heart and mind were still occupied with your presence, his happiness increasing as soon as you showed any sign of life.

After this dinner filled with words and tenderness directed to the other, you went to slump on the sofa when Younghoon offered to go out.

"You haven't been outside all day, it will only do you good to see the outside world a little bit," your boyfriend argued as you were giving him soft, pleading eyes, trying to seduce him to not leave your little comfortable cocoon. "But I'm tired," you pouted back, but he didn't want to hear anything. “Come on, let's go,” he punctuated his sentence as he turned on his heels, leaving you no chance to reply. You sighed but got up anyway, following your boyfriend to your bedroom.

Once dressed to go out, Younghoon grabbed your hand and you walked into the garage, the elevator slowly descending into the lower floors. Your boyfriend was leaning against the wall, his head resting against the mirror where you could see your reflection admiring his slender figure. He let out a small, flustered laugh at your intense gaze before taking your arm to pull you to him. You stayed the rest of the descent in his arms, the familiar scent of your laundry making you feel great. It smelled different on him like he had the power to make that scent a source of comfort for you.

The elevator ding stopped your train of thought, Younghoon took your hand and lead you to the car. Once fully seated in the vehicle, he drove off and out of town, gradually approaching the coast. Lowering the passenger window, you could now feel the sea breeze gently caress your face, requiring you to close your eyes at the sweet sensation that invaded your body. Younghoon let his gaze linger over your face, a thin smile decorating his lips as his eyes shifted back and forth between you and the road.

The air smell quickly changed to something fishy and you opened your eyes again when you discovered your destination: the harbour. It was a place where you liked to take a walk during the summer after dinner, to take in the last rays of sunshine and a bit of peace from the city centre. Letting out a sigh as you got out of the car, slamming the door behind you as Younghoon walked to the front of the car, you admired the ocean landscape looming in front of him. You wrapped your arms around his waist, your head coming to rest against his collarbone, feeling him tightening the embrace around you, kissing the corner of your head before rubbing your back.

"Shall we go for a walk?" He grabbed your chin with two fingers, smiling as his eyes turned into two beautiful crescent moons. You nodded and took his hand, forcing him towards the harbour. He laughed and managed somehow to lock the car before walking up to you, circling his arm around your shoulders.

The docks of the harbour were sparsely populated, almost deserted. Parents walking their children in strollers to lull them to sleep, or adults gathering in groups of friends to have a drink or celebrate a raise, hence the sounds of clashing glasses and the disgusting smell of tobacco.

Your stroll was soothing and beautiful, the boats mooring alongside were worth stopping to admire, some yachts making you dream of a life that seemed unreachable. You turned your head towards your boyfriend, who was taking a picture of one of the boats, turning his phone towards you. You gave him your best, natural smile even though you still weren't comfortable in front of the camera, light shivers running through your body as Younghoon looked at the snap with a big smile, happy with his picture of you.

You continued to walk along the docks, watching the boats sway gently in the gentle lapping of the water. The wind had started to blow, but that was not a factor in shortening your ride. Your boyfriend just hugged you closer to him, his hot breath hitting your ear. His embrace was nice, you could almost feel yourself melting into the crook of his arms.

At the corner of a turn, a sweet smell will invaded your nostrils, making you hungry despite the heavy meal you had just eaten. A waffle stand was open, and you enviously watched the pastries bake in the waffle iron. You prevented Younghoon from walking away from you by grasping his hand tightly, his attention immediately turning to what was making your mouth water. You looked at him for a few moments with pleading eyes and he smiled, shaking his head, pulling his wallet out of his inside coat pocket.

"One with chocolate and another with maple syrup, please," you smiled lovingly at him as he placed the order and hugged his arm, thanking him in a whisper.

You grabbed the waffles once they were ready, and hurried to the end of the dock, shoes sinking into the still-warm sand of a beautiful day. Holding the waffles over your head, you dropped into the floor with the same delicacy as an elephant in order to protect your snack from the grains of sand.

Younghoon sat down next to you, rubbing and slapping his hands vigorously to remove any dirt that had clung to them. The waffle was still hot, and the chocolate was melting in your mouth, making you happy and focusing on the present moment with your boyfriend without thinking about your project.

"It's beautiful," you pointed out, looking at the sea stretching out in front of you as far as the eye could see, your heart filled with happiness as the last rays of sun came to illuminate the sky and the saltwater with magnificent orange and pinkish colours, offering a magnificent spectacle to this part of the world.

Younghoon nodded and finished his waffle in three more bites, wiping his fingers with the small paper towel the seller gave you. He shifted closer and sat behind you, a leg on each side of your body as his arms crossed over your stomach.

"You're as gorgeous as this sunset," he whispered into the hollow of your ear, mouth still half-full and you suppressed a chuckle of embarrassment, elbowing him gently as he giggled while being careful not to drop your precious waffle. "Stop your nonsense," you whispered, and he shook his head side to side with a smile, wiping the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

Younghoon didn't have time to reply as a great gust of wind blew your hair up and you hurried to finish your waffle before it got sandy. The sea started to stir, waves increasing, the clouds were crossing the sky at a slightly accelerated speed, but that didn't stop you from sitting in the sand in each other's arms, smooching and cuddling you until the sun disappeared from the horizon, leaving you in a darker light to whisper sweet words in your ear.

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tsukishumai · 3 years

Text

pairing: miya atsumu x f!reader

tags: fluff, strangers to lovers

word count: 2.2k

Summary: You think of all the different versions you get of Atsumu throughout the day

Nights with Atsumu were unpredictable. Your heart always skipped a beat whenever you received one of his “are you free tonight?” texts, excitement never failing to course through your veins.

Miya Atsumu was an adventure.

He had been that way from the very first night you met him, crashing into him at a music festival your friends had dragged you to.

You had been lost for the past hour - separated from your group when you had mistakenly taken the wrong turn while trying to look for the restrooms. You’ve tried calling them time and time again, but the sheer amount of people at the event must have been doing something to the phone lines. None of your calls or texts were going through.

You mumbled a hurried apology, and you could practically feel the way he raked his gaze over your appearance. Though, there was nothing presentable about your current state; your hair (previously curled and styled carefully) was pulled up into a messy bun, dirt from the festival grounds stained your shoes and pants, and the expression on your face was nothing short of stressed.

“You lost, hun?” He had asked. While you would usually cringe at the pet name coming from a strangers mouth, the slight drawl of his accent made it sound sweet, and you couldn’t help but nod.

“It’s my first time coming to this festival - I have no idea where anything is.”

He nodded in understanding. “It can get pretty confusing if ya don’t know what you’re looking for,” he sighed out, reaching a hand out for you to take, “Come on, I’ll help you find em.”

Even then, having known the man for merely two minutes, you were never hesitant in taking his hand.

He quickly told his own group of the current situation, setting up a meet up spot for the end of the night in case Atsumu wasn’t able to find his way back to them in time.

(That was smart. You guys should have done that.)

You wondered why the blonde boy bothered to take the time out of his night to help you. Hadn’t he spent his own money to be here with his friends?

When you had asked him this question, he simply shrugged. “It wouldn’t be right of me to leave a beautiful girl all alone and lost in this huge festival now, would it?”

You didn’t find your friends for the rest of the night. You had instead spent it with Atsumu, jumping from stage to stage, claiming “maybe we’ll find them there?” but really, his favorite artist was up and he didn’t really want to miss it.

It shocked you how natural it felt to be with him; easy conversation flowed naturally, and the initial mission of his company was quickly forgotten, replaced instead with the dizzying thrill of his fingers wrapped around your wrist to make sure he didn’t lose you in the crowd.

“This is my favorite band,” he yelled into your ear, twirling you in circles as you danced along to the beat pummeling out of the speakers.

“I can see why!” You smiled at him, and the freedom you were feeling in that moment, dancing with a stranger that was quickly becoming a friend, was a better high than any drug.

Atsumu couldn’t dance at all - this was something you had pointed out during the second set you had watched together - but there was something in the way he just stuck his tongue out at you and continued to flail his limbs in some semblance of a rhythm with such confidence that you couldn’t help but find charming.

“Y/N!”

The frantic crying of your name made you whip your head around, and you see your best friend running over to you.

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

You let your best friend scold you for going missing for four hours, pushing down the feeling of embarrassment as Atsumu snickered at you.

“Thanks for keeping me company,” you said, turning to him one last time before finally joining your original pack.

“Anytime,” he smiled, then pulled his phone out of his pocket before handing it to you, “Mind returning the favor some day?”

The grin on your face was brighter than any of the lights surrounding the stage, quickly entering your number and saving it.

It wasn’t even two days after the festival before you received your first invitation out from Atsumu.

There were nights when he took you out to his favorite bar on a Thursday night because shots were 2-for-1 on Thursdays. The two of you would always run into more than one for Atsumu’s friends, and you were more than happy to allow them to indulge you in one or two embarrassing stories of Atsumu. The smile on your face grew wider each time his blush would deepen, and you didn’t know you could find him more endearing than you already do.

There were nights when he would whisk you away to a secret spot in a part of the city you had never been to. “It’s a little bit of a hike,” he’d warn you. You’d have half a mind to reprimand him for letting you wear your new shoes knowing the path would be dirty, but you were shut up by the views. Atsumu came prepared with a blanket to lay down on, taking out snacks and drinks from the backpack he was carrying. Your heart clenched at his thoughtfulness, laying down to stare at the stars peppering the sky. “The moon looks really full,” you said. “Yeah, just like my heart is for you,” he cooed. You would share a laugh, shoving him slightly, but hoping with everything that he meant it.

There were nights when he would take you to visit his brother’s onigiri shop. He would always take you either at closing time or after, ensuring that the three of you had the place to yourself. You could feel this to be some sort of test - test of what, you weren’t sure but you knew you wanted to pass it. Osamu would bring out off the menu flavors, using the two of you as his test subjects. You and Atsumu would exaggerate your judgements, commenting as if you were judges on Top Chef. “The consistency of the rice provided a good mouth feel,” you commented, rubbing a hand on your chin. “The flavors meld together perfectly, creating a refined taste suitable for any palate,” Atsumu replies, and the two of you would burst out laughing, Osamu rolling his eyes and asking you to be serious.

It was after one of those nights, belly and heart full from the nonstop eating and laughing. Atsumu walked you all the way up to your door, saying it’s much too late for you to be on your own. With your key in the door, you turned to say your good bye, only to be met by the softness of atsumu’s lips.

Nights were when Miya Atsumu let you into his world.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Afternoons were rarely spent with Atsumu.

You would think that sharing an apartment with the blonde setter would afford you more quality time, but he mostly spent his afternoons chasing his dreams.

You’ll never forget the afternoon the two of you had found out he had made onto his first pro-volleyball team; he was officially an MSBY Jackal. Happy tears were shed, on your part, but more so on his. Excitement stamped all over his face as he claimed he still had so much work to do.

You never held it against him when he came home late at night, the only interaction you’d have would be the kiss he placed on your forehead before climbing into his side of the bed. You didn’t mind that even though you were now living together, this was the most time you two would spend apart. It wasn’t like you were just waiting around; you had a job you loved and were dedicated to.

He never let you missed him too much, though.

“Are we almost there?” Atsumu gasped out, and you just threw your head back and laughed.

“What’s wrong? I thought volleyball players were supposed to have monstrous thighs or whatever?”

Atsumu grumbled. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t exhausting to scale a damn mountain!”

“Always so dramatic,” you mused, skipping ahead of him on the trail. Atsumu had a rare day off from practice, and insisted on doing whatever you wanted for the day. He was hoping you were going to say ‘let’s cuddle and stay in!’ Or ‘I want to go to that cafe I saw on Insta!’

But no, you went with “I want to go on a hike!”

It was his own fault, really. Ever since he would take you to look at the stars, you made it your mission to find all the little gems in your city.

“I swear to god, I’m gonna faint,” Atsumu placed the back of his hand on his forehead, “Please tell me we’re almost to the top!”

You grabbed his hand, pulling him up the last few steps of the trail.

“Ta da,” you sang out, out stretching your arms to present the view from the top.

Atsumu took on a deep breath and looked at the view. From the top of the trail, all that surrounded the two of you was the color green. Green leaves from towering trees that covered the face of the mountains that surrounded you. Green shrubs that littered around the forest floor, creating a lush carpet of foliage that stretched as far as you could see. In the space between the mountain ranges, Atsumu could see a hint of the ocean that lies beyond, and he could almost taste the salty air that always made his hair wavy.

The beauty of the earth surrounded him, reminding him of life flourishing all around, and all he could really look at was you.

The color of your eyes that sparkled like uncut gems when caught by the golden rays of the sun that was now nearing its highest peak in the sky could rival the most vibrant green nature could produce. The smile on your face was more blinding than the summer sun. All he could see was the beauty of the love that he knows only you could give him.

Afternoons were rarely spent with Atsumu, but he’s thankful for every chance he gets to be part of your world.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Mornings with Miya Atsumu were lazy, and intimate.

The habit of early mornings were hard to break, and regardless of whether you set an alarm or not, the both of you would stir awake at the crack of dawn.

You could feel Atsumu’s heated breath on the back of your neck as he wrapped an arm around your waist. “Good morning,” he would mumble, voice still thick with last nights sleep, dripping into your ears like fresh honey.

“Good morning,” you would reply back, turning around to bury your face into his chest. You loved the way he would always pull you closer, as if there was no wya you could be close enough, trying to fuse you into his own body. You don’t care that you can’t really breathe in this position - there was no where else you would rather be.

Though you were willing to stay that way forever, it was only a matter of time before life interrupts peace and demands to be lived. After a few more soft kisses placed on any bare skin lips could get too, maybe a few fingers brushing through your rats nest of a hair, Atsumu always was the first get up out of bed. You’d try to beg him for a few more minutes, but he’d make you laugh and say “I’d love to doll, but my bladders bout to burst all over our sheets,” and you can’t do anything but laugh and let him go.

Atsumu always showered first since his days started earlier, and you would make your way downstairs to make coffee for the both of you. You usually drank it black, but you made Atsumu’s with a little extra cream. He never asks you to, but you always packed him a lunch and snacks to take to practice, leaving little notes with words of affirmation to get him through the day. The look of pure admiration and love you get when you simply hand him a lunch box, thermos, a peck on the lips, and a prayer for safety; you think this must be true happiness.

You walk back up to the bathroom to start your morning routine, and feel warmth spread all over when you see that he’s set up your toothbrush on the sink with a glob of toothpaste on top and a little cup of mouthwash prepared and ready for you to use.

You loved Miya Atsumu at all hours of the day, but mornings just might be your favorite.

In the morning, Miya Atsumu was just for you.

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watchyourbluesturngolden · 3 years

Text

I’ll never stop loving you

Ok, so, this is very heavy. This piece is about eating disorders. As always, this is only about my personal experience. This is probably very triggering, so I don’t recommend reading if you think this will be upsetting.

This was not easy for me to write. I kind of just started writing one day when I was feeling really bad about myself and then it just kept getting longer. I decided to post it because I know there have to be some other people out there who have these same feelings, and I want to help them feel less alone.

warnings: eating disorders, calorie counting, insecurity, hospitals/medical stuff

word count: 4.9k

Y/N held back a sigh as she unlocked her phone. She glanced up to make sure Harry's back was still turned before she opened her calorie counting app and entered the apple she had eaten earlier.

95 calories. That wasn't really so bad. Well... she battled with her thoughts a bit. No, it was fine. If she didn't eat anything else this evening, besides the pasta he was making, that would bring her to just below 500 calories for the day. Perfect. Y/N's relationship with food was... complicated. She had been overweight as a child, and even now she really struggled to keep from gaining weight. At her last doctor's appointment she had been told to try exercising and eating more greens. She desperately wanted to lose weight, but she also had a very hard time staying away from junk food.

There had been more than one occasion where she's snuck to the kitchen after she was sure Harry was asleep and eaten everything she could get her hands on. She always felt terrible afterwards. She was physically in pain, but the worst part was how ashamed she was. She often sat on the kitchen floor, crying and wondering what to do. She hadn't resorted to purging, but honestly that was only because she couldn't make it work. She had tried. Several times. She wasn't sure if it was physical or psychological, but she just couldn't. So, most of the time, she just restricted.

It had been easy when Y/N started, but since she started dating Harry 8 months ago, it was much harder to keep this secret. It was manageable since they didn't live together, but he was very perceptive and asked her several times a day if she was hungry or if she had eaten. She had gotten very good at lying.

A simple "not really, I actually ate just before you got here," or a "yes, I finished the pizza we made" was enough to satisfy his questions. She could rattle off these answers without missing a beat. Luckily, he never noticed how much food got thrown in the garbage. Every so often, she could tell he was suspicious. That's why she always made sure to let him see her eating at least once a week.

Even though she was essentially starving herself, Y/N wasn't seeing any results. She had actually gained a pound in the last month. After she saw this, she didn't eat anything for almost 3 whole days. Harry had been away on business, so he didn't see when she nearly collapsed in the shower. He didn't hear her crying at night because she felt so hopeless. She hid it all from him.

She had only felt more determined to lose weight since that incident.

"So, I was thinking we'd watch a movie tonight while we eat. Maybe a Christmas one?" Harry pulled her out of her thoughts, turning away from the stove. She quickly closed the app and smiled up at him.

"Sure, I'll go pick one out," She said, getting up from the table, taking her phone with her.

Harry was a little confused. She usually had no problem with him looking at her phone; they often used each other's interchangeably. They knew each other's passwords and their fingers could unlock the other's phone. Lately, though, she would quickly turn off her screen whenever he looked in her direction. He trusted her completely, but he knew something was going on.

Y/N was searching through the list of Christmas movies on Netflix. She loved watching them, but they were so upsetting at the same time. The main character was always so skinny, so effortlessly beautiful. Of course she knew it wasn't real, but... still. She knew she would probably never look like that.

Y/N finally picked one. It looked incredibly cheesy, so hopefully she could focus on that instead of how skinny the main character was.

She made sure her calorie counting app was cleared from her recent apps and went back to the kitchen. She grabbed two plates, already worried Harry would try to dish her food up for her. Luckily he moved away to wash his hands. She used that time to scoop the smallest amount she could (without causing suspicion) onto her plate. She spread it out as much as possible and took a rather large serving of green beans to make her plate look full.

He turned back around, frowning slightly.

"That's not very much, love. If you don't like my cooking you can just tell me," He joked.

"No, you're an excellent chef. I just had a big lunch," she smiled, lying right to his face without a second thought.

"Alright, if you say so. Shall we start our movie?"

"We shall," Y/N laughed, copying his formal tone.

He smiled as she walked toward the couch. He absolutely adored her, even though she had a hard time appreciating herself. She had never said anything to him, but he could see it on her face when she spent long amounts of time in front of the mirror, inspecting her appearance from every angle. He couldn't figure out why she felt this way. She was absolutely gorgeous. He didn't want to bring it up until she did, not wanting to push her to talk about anything she wasn't ready to talk about.

Harry started the movie, settling into the couch. About halfway through, Y/N got up to put her plate away and use the bathroom. Harry noticed she took her phone with her again.

While she was in the bathroom, Y/N quickly opened her calorie app. She estimated how much she had eaten, then added an extra 1/2 cup just to make sure. Her daily total was... 511 calories. She nearly let out a sob. Tears started forming in her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away. She could 𝘯𝘰𝘵 let Harry see her crying. He was so attentive and loving, and would stop everything to find out what was wrong. She closed the app and splashed some water on her face. Luckily, it was dark in the living room and there would probably be a sad part of the movie she could blame her puffy eyes on.

She stepped back out into the living room, avoiding Harry's eyes as she sat down. She pretended not to notice his concerned look as she started the movie again.

Sure enough, about 10 minutes later came the sad scene. The main character was breaking up with her perfect boyfriend, because "they just didn't work". Even though it was very cheesy and Y/N knew they would get back together before the movie ended, she couldn't help but get emotional. All the stress of undereating, recording every bite of food she ate, lying to Harry, and eating more than she planned today was building up. She was just so overwhelmed. She couldn't help when the tears started rolling down her face. Harry didn't notice until he heard her sniffling.

"Oh, love, it’s ok! Don't cry, they'll get back together soon, you know they will," He soothed, moving closer and putting his arm around her.

Y/N couldn't say anything, but Harry being so close just made her feel worse. She felt too big. She felt like she didn't deserve to have such a loving boyfriend.

"I know, I know, I don't know why I'm so emotional today, I'm sorry," She said, wiping her eyes.

"Why are you sorry? It’s alright if it gets your heart a little. I just hate to see you so sad," He said, rubbing circles on her shoulder with his thumb.

Having Harry so close, telling her how much he cared about her, was even more overwhelming. Nevertheless, she tried to keep her tears in so he wouldn't ask any more questions. She managed to hold off, promising herself she could cry to her heart's content once he went home for the night.

Once the movie ended, Harry moved his arm and kissed her hand.

"Feeling better now? I told you there'd be a happy ending," He smiled sweetly.

"Yes, much. You were right," She grinned, which quickly turned into a yawn. Harry checked his phone.

"Oh, it’s way later than I thought. I better get home, let you get some sleep." He stood up from the couch, stretching. Y/N stood too, walking with him to the door.

After putting his coat and shoes on, Harry gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

"I'll text you when I get home. Goodnight, Y/N, love you," he said, smiling.

Y/N blushed. "Love you too, babe."

She was already feeling worse as she watched him drive away. she opened her calorie app, staring at the numbers. 511. How could she have done this? 511 calories. She felt miserable. She got into her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Against her better judgement, Y/N started thinking about her relationship with Harry. What would happen when Harry wanted to... take it further physically? She could barely handle seeing her own body in the mirror without breaking down, how would she let someone else see her?

Harry was a good guy, she knew he was. She knew he wouldn't pressure her to do anything she wasn't ready for. But... that really wasn't fair for him. It was unrealistic to expect him to wait forever and, what, never have sex again? She very much doubted he would be ok with that.

The more she thought about it, the worse she felt. Soon, the tears were rolling down her cheeks again. She did nothing to stop them.

A few minutes later, her phone dinged. She picked it up and saw it was from Harry.

"Got home safe. Love you darling, sleep well<3 "

She texted back, "Love you too, talk tomorrow :)"

She shut off her phone, not wanting to see his reply that would probably be very sweet and would make her feel worse.

She laid in bed for hours, feeling miserable and wondering what she was going to do, before she finally fell into a deep sleep. 3 days later (she didn't sleep for 3 days I just didn't know how to make this time skip haha) She startled awake after a very unpleasant nightmare. She dreamed she had finally agreed to be intimate with Harry, but at soon as he had taken her shirt off he started laughing. He broke up with her right then and there, telling her no one would ever want to be with her.

She hugged her pillow, checking her phone. it was 4 A.M. Great. Now she could either try and fall back asleep or give up and sit on her phone until the sun came up.

She chose the latter. She swiped away the text from Harry before opening tumblr and scrolling through her feed. Pictures of skeletal girls wearing fishnets, high waisted shorts, dresses, whatever they wanted, flashed across her screen. Y/N decided to continue fasting until the end of the week, then decrease her intake to 300 calories per day. She wasn't making progress at 500, so this had to work. It had to. She didn't have anything else to try. She was already doing yoga for weight loss 2 hours every day and eating next to nothing. This was her last option. She rolled out of bed when the sun started coming up and walked to the bathroom, weighing herself. She sighed, seeing she had only gone down 0.2 pounds. Better than gaining, she thought.

She changed into leggings and a sweater and rolled out her yoga mat. Y/N found her weight loss yoga series and stretched. She usually did every episode 4 times, just to make sure she was getting the full benefits.

On her second time starting over, she nearly fainted when get got up from the downward dog. She swayed on her feet, quickly getting down on the floor so she wouldn't fall. She laid there until she felt better, then slowly stood up. She sunk into the couch, deciding to be done with yoga for the day. She was exhausted, and she thought she might really pass out if she kept going.

Her phone dinged and she picked it up, seeing it was from Harry.

"Good morning love:) The sky's supposed to be clear tonight, want to come over and stargaze?"

Y/N smiled. He knew how much she loved the stars.

"Of course! I'll come over around 8?"

"Sounds good, see you then:)"

As long as he didn't try to offer her any food, everything would be fine. This would work. She could just tell him she finished the pasta he made so he wouldn't try to give her supper. Perfect. Y/N pulled one of Harry's hoodies out of her closet, slipping it over her jeans. She loved wearing his clothes. it made her feel small and safe and loved. She scooped the rest of the pasta into the garbage, only feeling a little bad for wasting the food.

She got into her car and plugged her phone into the car speakers, starting Harry's album. She had been playing it on repeat since it came out. The music was already incredible, but what made it even better was knowing it was about her. Harry clearly felt Y/N was amazing, which was hard for her to process. How could someone who looked like that be in love with her? It didn't seem real.

By the time she got to the third song, Y/N was almost at Harry's house. She pulled into his driveway and unplugged her phone, giving herself a minute to take a breath. Everything would be fine. She would tell him she had eaten the pasta and he would believe her. Everything would work out.

She turned off the car, walking up the path to Harry's door. He opened it before she even knocked, beaming and pulling her into a hug.

"I missed you, love," He said, squeezing her tighter.

"Harry, I saw you 3 days ago," She laughed.

"Yeah, well, that's way too long," He shook his head, pulling away from her a bit. "Did you eat? I can find something quick before we get out there-"

Y/N quickly cut him off. "No, I'm good, I finished the pasta you made. How does your food still taste amazing, even days after?"

"I dunno, I guess I'm just magical," He laughed.

He led her out to the back porch, gesturing at the ladder.

"I figured we'd sit up on the roof. There's a better view, and... it's more private," He smiled.

Y/N pretended she didn't know what he was implying.

"Sounds good!" She began to climb up the ladder. Suddenly, she didn't feel so well. She was dizzy and black spots were appearing in the corners of her eyes. "No, no, no," She thought desperately. "Not again! Just focus, one rung at a time, you can do it."

Luckily, she got to the top and made it onto the roof safely. She sat on the slightly tilted surface, putting her head between her knees.

Harry's head popped up from the edge of the roof, looking very worried. He rushed over, putting his arm around her.

"Y/N, are you ok? You don't look so good," He said nervously.

"I'm fine, I'm just..." Y/N tried to think of what to tell him. She couldn't exactly say "I'm dizzy because I haven't eaten in 3 days" because she had already lied about eating supper. "I'm not a fan of heights."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, why didn't you tell me? We didn't have to come up here!" He looked like he felt terrible, but Y/N was quick to reassure him.

"No, it's totally fine, I thought I could handle it a little better. I'm ok, maybe just... don't move your arm?" She moved closer into his side. While she felt self conscious with him so close, she really did feel dizzy and worried she might fall if he moved away. She was also freezing cold, despite the warm air, so she liked having his extra warmth.

"Of course I won't." They sat in silence for a few minutes before Harry spoke again.

"If... if you're feeling alright now, I'd suggest looking up," He said. She could hear the smile in his voice as she lifted her head.

"Oh... it's... beautiful," She whispered.

She had never seen such a clear sky. Billions of stars shone brightly, which was weird since there was usually too much light around to see them. That's when Y/N noticed it was a lot darker than normal.

"Harry, where are all the street lights?"

He blushed, looking down.

"I wanted you to be able to see the stars better, so I got the electrician to turn them off for a few hours. He's an old family friend," Harry explained. "He said he had no problem helping me woo a pretty girl."

Now it was Y/N who was blushing.

"Well, it worked. I am very... woo'd," She said. They both laughed before looking back up at the twinkling sky.

"Oh look, there's... that one constellation!"

Y/N laughed. "Brilliant, Harry, that ONE constellation."

He smiled. "No, no, it's... I can't think of the name! it's one of my favorites. it's the one shaped like a W. The one that's a queen, sitting on her throne. This'll drive me crazy if I don't remember it." He reached for his phone, hand patting his empty pocket. "Oh, must've left it in the house. Mind if I use yours?"

Harry didn't miss the split second of panic that crossed her face. He didn't know that she was frantically wondering if her calorie counting app was still open. She knew she couldn't say no without looking very suspicious, so she faked a smile and handed it over.

Thankfully, he didn't even open her recent apps. He just clicked on the safari icon and typed quickly.

"That's it! Cassiopeia! The beautiful queen on her throne," He said, handing her phone back to her. "Anyways, I think of you when I see that constellation."

Y/N smiled. "You see me as a beautiful queen?"

"Obviously, I do," He said, kissing her cheek.

For the first time, Y/N didn't feel embarrassed to be in his arms. He had always told her he loved her, but comparing her to a literal queen? A queen made out of stars? That was different.

Y/N was so happy that she didn't mind when Harry's lips lingered on her cheek, then moved to her jaw. They had never done anything except cuddling, so this was all new to her. She leaned into him, getting lost in the sensations.

Then she started thinking. She realized where this was going as his lips migrated down her neck. Though she was really enjoying this, she started panicking when she thought about what would happen next.

Her breathing and pulse sped up. Harry smiled into her neck, thinking it was just her reaction to his touch. Then she was pulling away, or rather, pushing him away.

"Stop, stop, I want to stop!"

He snapped his head up, backing away and holding his hands in the air to show her he wasn't going to do anything.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I should have asked you before I..." he was also breathing heavily. He knew she was inexperienced and was very nervous to try anything new.

Y/N felt tears springing to her eyes.

"I- I have to go," She said, swiping at the tears on her face.

"Wait, Y/N!"

She was already climbing down the ladder. As soon as she got down, she ran through his house and to her car. Harry was right on her heels.

Y/N started her car and drove away as fast as she could. She felt bad because she knew Harry was beating himself up right now, thinking he was the reason she freaked out. She just didn't know what to do. She couldn't explain why she had pushed him away without going into... everything. She couldn't tell him the reason she pushed him away was because she hated her body so much it physically hurt. He would just tell her she was beautiful, and then he would probably figure out she wasn't eating enough. He would force her to recover. And... she couldn't do that until she was skinny.

She pulled into her driveway, running inside. Before she had even gotten up to her room, she heard Harry pounding on her door.

"Y/N, open the door!" More pounding. "Y/N, I need to know you're ok! Please, you don't even have to let me in, just... text me or something to let me know you're ok! Please!" He kept pounding on the door.

Y/N crept up the stairs, ignoring his pleas. She felt awful, but she couldn't do anything. He kept pounding and yelling and she got worried someone would call the police, so she pulled out her phone, sending him a quick text. "i'm fine."

Then she shut her phone off, jumped in the shower, and cried.

By the time she got out, she didn't hear any more noises. She checked her phone, eyes widening when she saw the 27 missed calls and dozens of texts from Harry.

Her phone started ringing again, but she immediately declined the call when she saw Harry's smile light up her screen. She hoped he would get the message. She silenced her phone, settling into her bed and drifting to sleep.

The next day, Y/N startled awake to more banging sounds. She sat up, leaning over to look out her window. There he was, pounding his fists on her side door. "Well," she thought, "At least there's less chance someone will call the cops on him."

She heard faint yelling and knew she had to do something. He probably wouldn't leave, at least not until she actually asked him to. It was nearly 3 P.M., and she guessed he had been there all day, if not all night.

She swung her legs over the side of bed, but a wave of nausea and dizziness hit her as soon as she stood. She took a moment to steady herself before stepping out into the hallway.

Y/N held the railing with an iron grip as she slowly climbed down the stairs. Black spots began to swim in her vision and she felt even worse than before. Then the room spun around her and she fell.

Harry's p.o.v. He stopped pounding on the door for a minute to call her again. His phone rang for a while, so at least she wasn't just declining his calls.

Which... was actually worse. What if she wasn't ok? What if she was hurt, or worse? He knew she hadn't left, he had stayed outside her door all night.

Right before he started knocking again, he heard it. A very loud crashing sound. It sounded like something had fallen down the stairs.

His eyes drifted to the window and he pressed his face against the glass. His view was distorted through the sheer curtain, but he could make out something on the floor at the bottom of the stairs.

He focused his eyes and gasped when he realized it was Y/N, lying in a heap. He ran back to the door, trying again to open it. When it didn't budge, he went to the front and back doors, trying the same. Finally, he decided what he had to do. Harry ran to the back door so no one on the street would see him and picked up a shovel lying in the garden. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and rammed it into the glass. He rotated the shovel around, clearing all the shards before he climbed through the hole.

He ran over to Y/N, dropping to his knees and feeling for a pulse on her neck. He nearly sobbed when he felt her heart beating, though it felt pretty weak. He yanked his phone out of his pocket and dialed 911.

Harry had been sitting in the waiting room for a few hours when the doctor approached him.

"Mr. Styles?"

Harry stood up quickly.

"How is she?"

She's doing fine now. But..." He didn't seem to want to tell Harry something. "Mr. Styles, she is extremely malnourished. She fell down the stairs, you said? It seems the reason for this is because she lost consciousness, because her blood sugar was so low. We usually only see levels like this in people with diabetes."

"She's... she not diabetic, though," Harry said, confused. "And what do you mean by malnourished? I see her eat all the time." He said, voice faltering a bit.

"From her labs and scans, it would seem she hasn't eaten in several days, maybe a week. She also shows signs of chronic undernourishment, which means she's been eating less than her body needs for a while now. She is extremely dehydrated, and her electrolytes are very imbalanced."

"But- how could she- I mean, she doesn't-" Harry couldn't seem to collect his thoughts. "Can I see her?"

"You can. She's not awake, but I'll take you to her room," He said, leading Harry towards her room.

Harry's eyes teared up when he saw Y/N in the bed. She was connected to several machines, and a nurse explained that they were getting her nutrients up and keeping her hydrated. She looked so fragile.

Harry fell into the chair by her bed, clasping her small hand in both of his.

"Was she- I mean- was she... starving herself?" Harry's voice broke as he spoke to the nurse.

She offered a sympathetic look.

"It appears so, yes."

"What can I do? how can I fix this?"

"Mr. Styles-"

"Harry."

"Harry, you're doing everything you can. We've got her, physically. all you have to do is love her and support her.

"Right," Harry said, looking down. "Thank you."

The nurse left the room, leaving the two alone. Harry stared into her face, silently willing her to wake up. She had to wake up. This was all his fault. He must've done something that upset her so much she stopped eating. He thought back to last night on the roof when she had pushed him away. Had she felt like this the whole time? Had she felt so unhappy in their relationship that she was slowly killing herself?

Y/N's p.o.v.

When Y/N woke up, she was in her bed. No, wait, not her bed. A hospital bed? She looked around, confused.

She saw Harry, asleep in the chair next to her. She tried to say his name, but she couldn't get out more than a hoarse whisper.

She looked around, searching for something to get his attention with. She settled on the empty plastic cup next to her, throwing it and hitting him in the shoulder. He jerked awake, eyes darting around until they landed on her. Relief flooded his face as he moved his chair closer.

"Y/N, you have no idea how worried I was about you," Harry said in a soft voice. Tears pooled in her eyes as she grasped his hand.

"I'm so sorry," She whispered.

"Just... why? Why did you do this? Is it because of me? Do you..." His voice shook and he took a steadying breath. "Did I do this to you?"

Y/N shook her head frantically, squeezing his hand. "No, no, Harry, you didn't, I promise, this isn't your fault. It's... I've just... I don't know," Y/N's voice broke off as tears started streaming down her face.

"It's not your fault, Harry. I-I just... I wanted to be... perfect," Her voice sounded so small. "I wanted to look like the girls in the stupid hallmark movies, who are so skinny and... just gorgeous," She said, still crying. "I wanted to look like them and I just wanted to feel pretty and I just hate my body so much," Her words ran together and got harder to understand as she buried her face in her arms.

Harry's heart broke a little more with each word she spoke. He stood from his chair, situating himself on the bed next to her and putting his arms around her. They just sat like that, Y/N's shaky breaths slowly settling to match his even ones. He could still hear her sniffling every once in a while, but she had mostly calmed down.

"I love you more than anything else on this earth, Y/N," Harry said softly. "I don't know what I would ever do without you. I'm so sorry I didn't notice you were going through this. You are the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on, and I don't want to change anything about you."

Y/N looked up at him. "I think... I think I need help," she said, her voice shaking. Harry just pulled her back against his chest, kissing the top of her head.

"I will stay with you, always," he murmured. "I know you can get through this. I won't leave your side."

"No, I... I think I have to go away somewhere," She said, avoiding his eyes.

"If that's what you need to get better, Y/N, then I will support you. I'll visit you as much as they'll let me, as much as you want to see me. I'll do anything for you, to see you get better."

"I love you so much," She said, eyes welling up with tears again.

"I love you too," He whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'll never stop.”

#harry styles #harry styles/reader #harry styles/you #disordered eating #eating disorder #anorexia #harry styles x you #harry styles/you fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x reader fanfiction #one direction #one direction fanfiction

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jawllines · 4 years

Note

Reminder to post werewolf 🤠

YOU ARE SO RIGHT!! HERE IS A WEREWOLF HARRY CHECK-IN CUTIE POTS

“You’re just a needy little pup, aren’t you?”

It was chilly out; October brought in a wind that kissed goosebumps onto her skin when she made her trek through to the woods after class. There weren’t many animals scurrying around in the colder months apart from a squirrel or two she might see, and there are seldom other humans roaming around out here considering there was no trail (and everyone, apparently, had always been put off by the woods here. . .something felt off to them, and Y/N knew exactly what it was). Nights came quicker, so if Y/N wanted to make it to the grounds before the moon rose and cast thin streams of light through the thick branches, she needed to leave just as soon as she’s gotten out of class (and she knew that Niall would come to get her if it really got too dark, but she still felt too guilty to make him come all the way for her, so she rarely asked him to).

And there was just something about the cold air, that made Harry the snuggliest little thing. Y/N doesn’t know if it’s because this is around the time they found one another and bonded two years ago, or if werewolves are warmblooded and prefer balmy summers as opposed to the glacial temperatures that they may be shown here. She’d never thought to ask because she didn’t necessarily need a reason for it. How cuddly Harry gets is nice, and how most days -- if time permitted it -- he would just saddle up beside her and they would warm one another. There are times that he suggests eating lunch outside when it’s fairly cold and Y/N thinks it’s only his elaborate ploy to have her cuddled against him. She thinks that part of him secretly likes when she’s cold because it means she seeks him out for warmth and Harry’s always up for warming her up.

(Once, while Harry was busy and Y/N had entered the grounds with Grandpa after a particularly snowy, frigid day, Niall was who she had gone to, to warm her -- he put his arm around her and sat her by the fire in one of the sitting rooms they had. They had been speaking idly about a new movie they were both interested in seeing when the door had just about been thrown from its hinges and Harry appeared, pouting, “Okay, thank you, Niall, I will warm her now.” Was his pleasant but rushed way of putting it, as he’d dropped to his knees, his brown curls flopped in his face before he flattened his stomach to the floor and wrapped his arms around her waist, dipping his nose into her tummy. Y/N and Niall both shared a chuckle as her fingers found his hair and carded through it gently, as Niall scooted over so Harry could curl his body inward while they continued speaking about the movie.)

Niall had once told her that Harry had never been this cozy with anyone before, even his first mate. The others would fill Niall in on bits and pieces that he had missed out on since he joined them a bit late, so they had told him how a few had always been skeptical on whether or not he and his prior mate were truly meant to be. When a werewolf mates and bonds with another, it is more than normal for them to be all over each other all the time, and not particularly in a sexual sense. They thrive off touch. . .off being with their person, and on their person, and cuddled, snuggled cozily with their person. Sure, he had been cuddly with his mate prior but nowhere near the amount that anyone had expected from him, especially considering how he was when he was younger, clinging to the people that he held precious to him. He would have his arm around her, give her kisses, but the PDA was often lacking.

With Y/N though, she’s sure if Harry could be a second skin to hers then he would be. Every moment of every minute that it was appropriate, Harry was wrapped around her, or had her wrapped around him; this is when he was most content. This is when Niall would ask for things (like for Harry to branch out and order them more TVs, specifically one for his room) and receive prompt results, or this might be when the pups are most willing to come and parade around his room even though they really aren’t meant to. He was in such a pleasant mood if he was in any way interlaced with her body.

She had only just recently convinced Harry not to usher Grandpa to the foot of the bed if Y/N was holding onto him in her sleep.

So she’s more than use to his cuddles, and she’s more than used to his pup like behavior, though he was particularly clingy today. It had been three days since she’d seen him last because she always made sure to distance herself some when she would be studying for an exam. Sometimes she let Harry come by her flat to help her go through flashcards, but he could be awfully distracting when he wanted to be and was still confused why she would continue working and going to school when she could simply live on the grounds with him and everything would be taken care of. Each answer to the flashcard was accompanied by an array of kisses peppered to her face, whether right or wrong, which just turned into a deepened kiss to the mouth, and more times than not, they would end up in her bed.

Which is why she took a few days to prepare for the exam and satiated him with video calls as she was getting ready for bed, where he pouted and whined about how he missed her but commended her for doing well in her studies. Though he did make her swear that she would give him extra amounts of attention when she saw him -- they pinky swore, which she had taught him how to do.

(She also knows that Niall had told him Y/N would spoil him in cuddles when he was pouty because Niall had gone out to see her so he could bring her a hot chocolate and pumpkin muffins, but he wouldn’t let Harry come as well.)

The unconditional love is something she revels in -- to have someone still so wholly love her as much as she loves them, had never been something Y/N was very privy to. It’s why she’s just as excited as Harry is after she’s finished her exam, and why her heart nearly jumps from her chest when she walks out of her lecture and Harry had greeted her outside with her favorite pastry from the cafe on campus. Y/N throws her arms around his neck and hugs him close, and Harry spins her around as theatrically as he could like it’d been months since they saw each other last. He peppers kisses upon kisses all over her cold cheeks, “I missed you, Darling,” he murmured, one of his kisses placed over her eye, “How did your test go? Was it well?”

“Yeah, I feel pretty good about it,” she smiles at him, “I’m glad you came to get me! I can show you the spot where the autumn flowers are growing now.”

Harry allowed her this little joy, despite how uncomfortable he sometimes felt around other humans. The tensions have eased the longer that he’s been with her, but Y/N can see how he squints his eyes and becomes the utmost disgruntled if anyone approaches them. He isn’t as short as he once was though and works to be much less domineering, but he still attempts to carry an air around him that suggests those who do decide to approach them have a good reason for it.

He muses with her about the flowers, even takes a picture with her in front of them with their cheeks smashed together. His face is rosy from the cold, which only spurs her to kiss his cheeks and the tip of his nose before she murmurs, “C’mon, let’s get you home and warmed up, hm?”

“You’re going to spoil me with cuddles, right? This was promised to me so that I leave you to your studies.”

“Yes, I’m going to spoil you rotten.”

Once they made it to the grounds, Harry surprised her with a picnic basket and an accompanied gingham blanket -- it was always a touch warmer within their little bubble than it was in the outside world, so it wasn’t too cold to have one. Especially with the sun beating down from the sky, the rays give kisses of warmth that make it bearable, and he packs an extra blanket for her, he tells her, so that if she gets cold he could swaddle her.

“Like a baby?”

“No, human babies frighten me, they scream. You do not frighten me.”

He sets it up for them, fanning out the first blanket which was large enough to have quite a few people sit on it. After he lowered to his knees, he placed the basket in the center and began to unearth what he’d packed for lunch. He makes sure to let her know that the chef let him run amuck in the kitchen to prepare it himself, with minimal help from the kitchen staff. Honey turkey wraps, warm loaves of freshly baked bread with strawberry marmalade to slather on each slice, pita chips with hummus (he had help making that, he admitted), the juiciest looking grapes and strawberries she thinks she’s ever seen, and three slices of blackberry ginger pie (he brought the third in case she wanted seconds).

It all looked delicious, and he made sure to set it out in a way aesthetically pleasing to the eye, “This way you can share pretty pictures as you do online. Make sure to add that I am the best mate in the world and I treat you so well.”

They ate until they were stuffed full, Y/N doesn’t think she’d ever been so completely and entirely pleased and full with a meal in her life. Both she and Harry lean into one another, but at the first sign of a shiver he is wrapping the second blanket around her and cuddling her close to his side, “Did you like it?” He asked her and Y/N sighed happily, nosing her way into his chest

“I loved it. Thank you so much, Puppy.”

All of it had started out so innocently; the way she caressed his skin, how he told her about his day, how they cuddled into each other closer. Maybe it was Y/N’s fault -- it probably was, actually, because she loved Harry’s full tummy even more than she loved being full herself. He was softer, more receptive to her touch if she lulled soft circles on his stomach with her palm and if she were lucky, he would fall asleep by it. Not that she didn’t want to spend time with him, but she loved the soft cooed snores that leave his mouth, and how peaceful he looks as he swims in whatever dream he’d found his footing in.

The innocence behind these rubs was recognized, but his prick had begun a noticeable bulge in his trousers that he appeared keen on ignoring. How they were arranged, Y/N had her legs open enough for him to fit comfortably between them with his head resting on her thigh. She skated soft caresses at first just over his shirt, but then to his bare skin once his shirt began to crinkle up and show the soft terrain beneath it. No matter how clearly his cock was hard, his eyes had fluttered shut and he hadn’t uttered a peep about it.

But Y/N was curious as she always is to get beneath his belt. No matter the number of times she’d seen it, she could never stifle the want to withdraw the zip of his trousers and reveal it to herself again. That’s why each little design she drew into his skin had gotten lower and lower, closer to the waistband of his pants until she was practically skimming the tips of her fingers just beneath it. Goosebumps riddle up in her wake and Harry shuffles slightly, his eyes fluttered like butterfly wings before he looked up at her, “I am sorry,” he murmured, his cheeks still a little rosy from the cold air, “I was trying very hard not to become aroused, but it proves to be difficult when you’re touching all over me, and you smell so good. . .and it’s been. . .it’s been so long, I --” he hisses in a breath when she dances her fingers lightly across the bump, “Oh, Darling.”

“You’re just a needy little pup, aren’t you?” Y/N teases him, letting her delicate touches move back toward his belly, “You want cuddles and kisses and for me to play with your cock, hm?”

Harry shudders, somehow wriggling even closer to her than he already managed to be, “I want everything,” he murmurs, “I just want you in any way I’m allowed.”

It was always interesting, seeing the big, bad alpha turn to putty in her palms. She never took it for granted, nor did she take advantage of him in this state. No, Y/N took extra good care of him and made sure he was happy and his desires satiated, just as he would do for her in whatever needy state she might find herself within. That’s why she’s so quick to carefully unbuckle the belt of his pants, the metal pieces clinking together as she pulls the straps undone. Once the pressure is relieved from around his waist, a soft little moan leaves his pink lip and it sends sparkles pirouetting through her body.

The button of his jeans is easy enough to slip from the buttonhole, and as she pulls the zip down and over his bulge, Harry holds onto her tighter. Y/N is just enamored with the blissed-out face he already holds before she had a chance to do much of anything -- she’s only releasing him from the confines of his trousers, and he looks like he could cum in mere seconds. His stamina was always impeccable, and if he really wanted to get hard multiple times in a night he could, which always made it a bit more fun. It also meant that if she wanted him to cum quickly, then the night wasn’t over, and that was just delightful.

And sometimes she wanted him to cum quickly. Sometimes she wanted to know that she just made him feel so good, he was so desperate that it was hard to stave off. It always brought a smile to her mouth, if they’d only been going at it a little while -- if she had him in her mouth or in her hand, and he moaned his warning of, “I’ll cum if we continue like this, Sweetheart, you’re going to make me cum so soon,” If anything, she never stopped -- she only doubled her efforts in order to make him burst.

“Budge up a bit,” she orders tentatively, and he raises his hips, helping her wiggle them down just a bit. They were far enough away from the grounds that nobody would disturb them, and Harry’s nose could spot someone’s scent from meters and meters away, so she felt no worry when his prick was uncovered. Stiff as glass, his tip ruddy and leaking down the side of the head, like it might be weeping for her attention. Y/N holds her palm out in front of his hand, “Get it wet.”

Harry flattens his tongue and licks fat stripes up her palm, slicking it with spit, pulling her fingers into his mouth salaciously sucking until she pushed the pad of her thumb to his chin and slid her fingers away from him, “Christ,” she murmured, giggling as she lowered her hand back to his cock, “You’re so good at that.”

He opens his mouth to respond but whatever he plans to say is lost around a moan -- low, guttural, and drawn as his knees bend; her fingers looped delicately around his prick and she squeezed gently. The weight of him in her hand always made glitter dance in her lower belly, stoking the flames of a fire that left her panties drenched through. And she knew he knew, by the way, his bottom lip is hidden between his teeth as she slipped her hands up and down the length of him. Her palm slides easily, with little friction as it glides against the smooth skin. He moans again, this time much louder as she focuses her hand in circular motions over the swollen head. It’s the kind of moan that gives her the best kind of goosebumps, that makes her pulsate and flush with heat all over.

But she likes to tease him, so she tuts her tongue and introduces the fingers that aren’t working him over to his mouth, “Shh, you’re loud,’ she murmured, stroking against his lips until they parted and she dipped her fingers back into his mouth, “Does it feel that good? That you can’t be quiet?”

“Mhm,” he whines pitifully, nodding, looking up to her from her lap with his eyes bright and green, reflecting off the sun that they bathed beneath. He strokes his tongue along her fingers as his hips buck helplessly into her hand, but Y/N fixes her grip at the bottom of the shaft.

“You wanna do the work?” She chides him gently, “If you wanna do the work then I’ll just hold my hand still and you can fuck into it all you like.”

He shakes his head quickly, “No,” he murmurs, “No, no, please, want you too --”

“Okay, okay,” she starts back up again, thumbing at his slit and watching as more drips down his prick -- he always leaks so much, “Sweet little thing, I’ll take care of you.”

She can feel him throb in her hand, his fingers bury in the fabric of her shirt at her sides as he continues to groan and whimper. His brows furrow as his back arches, and when Y/N does withdraw her fingers from his mouth again, she lowers it to his balls. They’re tight, swollen and full, and the sound that Harry makes -- Y/N hadn’t thought she could be anymore worked up than at that moment, but she was wrong. He was shameless when he felt good, and she couldn’t even keep up the act that she wanted him to be quiet. Not when he sounded like that. . .not when he was so incredibly desperate, and hard, and. . .”I will not last much longer,” he told her breathlessly, swallowing thickly, “I feel it -- I’m going to cum. . .I’m going to cum so hard.”

“Yeah?” She carefully kneads his balls in one palm, slipping her hand up and down his prick at a fast pace, and she can feel him stiffening in her lap, “You’re g’na make my hand a mess?”

Another whimpered moan makes her giggle, and soon after Harry throbs again in her palm, only this time it’s followed by thick ropes of cum that spurt from the tip. Some shoots up and falls against the blanket, some dribbled warm over her knuckles, and he trembles in her arms as she works him through it. He’s loud in his groans of her name, only muffled when he tilts his head against her thigh. As he comes down, his breathing bated and his cock softening in her hand, “You,” he began, huffing a breath, “You are too good to me.”

“Did I spoil you well enough?”

Harry takes one of the napkins that he had packed and holds her hand delicately in his own, cleaning her of his cum first and then takes care of his own mess, “I’ve been thoroughly spoiled, but I do wish for you to cuddle me quite a bit more.”

Y/N laughs brightly, shaking her head before bending down and he meets her by raising his forehead the rest of the way so her lips could meet his skin.

“Of course, Puppy.”

#blurb #or #BLURBS #SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG #Anonymous

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twinkleallnight · 3 years

Text

Book: The Royal Romance AU

Characters: Riley, Rhea.

Word count: 819

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry except Rhea.

Rating: Teens

Prompt: Features day 1 of TRR Appreciation Week hosted by @trraw

Link to the Series here.

A/N : Thank you @annekebbphotography for pre reading.

“Once upon a time there lived a carefree girl in the New york city.”

“Here? In my city?” questioned the little girl, excitedly propping up in the bed.

Riley gave her a smile and pulled her back over the pillow. “Yes Rhea, your favourite place, I know.” She tucked her into the blankets. “Now close your eyes and listen.”

Rhea shut her eyes tight. Riley snickered. She gave her a peck on the cheek and looked into the darkness in the distance as she continued narrating her story.

“This young girl was full of love, care and compassion for anyone who met her.

She worked hard as a waitress in a bar and dreamt of a better life someday.”

Rhea looked up, opening only one eye in a wink. “That’s you mommy!”

Riley nodded and covered Rhea’s eyes with her palm.

“One day there came three men from a faraway land. They were looking for a good place to party.

One of them was funny..."

"Uncle Max!"

"The other was grumpy…"

"Uncle Drake!" Rhea started filling the blanks.

"Yes, you are right Rhea. They laughed, they drank, they ate and enjoyed themselves. In the end, the humblest of them all…"

"The Prince!"

"Yes, the prince." Riley rolled her eyes. "So, he came to her and expressed his gratitude.”

“He requested the girl’s company as he wanted to explore the city, the statue of Liberty in particular.”

"Just like daddy loves to see it always."

Riley started patting lightly on Rhea’s blanket to give her a rhythm to sleep.

“The young girl helped him see it the very night, as it was the last day of his stay in the city. There the handsome man revealed to her that he was actually a prince of a distant land."

"Mamma, I always knew he was the king."

Riley frowned, "Rhea! You have seen him in the royal regalia. Anyone can recognise the king in his official outfit."

"I am sure Mamma, I would have recognised him anywhere in the whole wide world." She tried to make a huge imaginary circle in the air to show her world. "He is the best!"

"Okay, now let's go to sleep."

"No! Tell me more. I love to hear how you met a real prince." She squeaked in her tiny little voice.

Riley giggled, "So, she knew he was special but she treated him just like a good friend. He was impressed with her hospitality and thanked her for a wonderful time. Then he bid her farewell with a heavy heart."

Rhea turned to her side and hugged Riley tightly. She never liked the part of the story where Liam left. Riley caressed her hands through Rhea’s brown locks.

“One of the three men, the funny guy, came back the next day with a strange proposal.

He lured the young girl to fly with him to unknown lands for a contest with nobles, a thing they called a social season.

The young girl thought over but politely refused. So off he went to his country, never to return and the young girl chased her dreams to be successful one day."

"She worked hard and learned well and soon earned a name. She trained to be a chef and after a few years had her own restaurant and a lot of fame.”

Rhea lay on her back again as she listened attentively. “Now comes my favourite part.” she clapped her hands eagerly.

Riley smiled, “One day, she received a letter embossed with a royal seal. To her surprise, it was a letter from an old friend, the prince. He had congratulated her on her success and had sent an invitation to her to visit his part of the world."

“She promised him she will see him later as there was a wedding she had to attend. The next day, she wore her pretty white gown and put on a veil and walked to her fiancé, the love of her life, down the aisle.”

She smiled with glossy eyes remembering her special day.

“The prince hosted a special party for them, now that he was a king.

The young girl and her husband attended and were mesmerized with all the bling."

Rhea’s breath was calm and slow while Riley concluded the story thinking of the surreal events that followed.

"Since then, the young girl and the prince have stayed in touch through letters, as he rules a small country while the girl looks after her family and manages her business.”

Rhea had her eyelids drooping by this time.

Riley placed a soft kiss on Rhea’s forehead and tiptoed out of her room. She sneaked quietly into her own bedroom and got under the blankets.

Her husband wrapped an arm around her waist and snuggled into the crook of her neck.

He mumbled. “I wonder what story you would have narrated if you actually had boarded the royal jet to Cordonia that day.”

*******************************************

Next part here

Tags: @anjanettexcordonia @bascmve01 @choiceskatie @charlotteg234 @claireloutoo@choicesficwriterscreations @cordonia-gothqueen @drakewalker04 @eadanga @gkittylove99 @krsnlove @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @idontknowwhysblog @indiacater @jessiembruno @kingliam2019 @lisha1valecha @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @ntoraplayschoices @princess-geek @princessleac1 @secretaryunpaid @sirbeepsalot @speedyoperarascalparty @queenrileyrose @texaskitten30 @txemrn @sfb123 @sweatyrysconnoisseur @theroyalheirshadowhunter @aestheticartsx @yourmajesty09 @efecom @grsarco-blog @lovelyladyk88 @mainstreetreader

#pixelberry #playchoices #the royal romance #trr fandom #twinkleallnight #trr

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getitinbusan · 3 years

Text

I've Got A Coupon (18+)

Part 3

Hobi: Lap Dance

Warnings: 18+ consensual sexual poly relationships. Breath play/Choking, Always swearing, Safe sex is implied. Don't read smut if you can't handle the 🍆💦

Words: 1250

Valentine’s Day, what do you give 7 men who already have everything?

Sitting down, you create a series of Love Coupons and place them in a bowl…

Erotic movie night

Massage with a happy ending

lap dance

Voyeur, look but don’t touch!

Naked Chef, dining al fresco

Trip to the sex shop

Location of your choice!

Calling them to the kitchen they each take a turn picking their present.

Series Masterlist

9 am:

Hope: Small dance room 3rd floor.

Y/N: Please?

Hope: You don't have to beg 😂

Y/N: Do they distribute bad joke books as part of your training here?

Small dance room? Like you should know which one that is. By the time you opened the 4th door you found Hobi sitting on a chair waiting.

"Well hello Sunshine."

"Hey," he answered with very little enthusiasm.

"What's up? Don't you want to do this?"

"On the contrary, but I'm actually surprised that you do."

"What do you mean?

"Last time we hooked up I didn't think it was very pleasant for you." He looked at his phone, "so if you're just doing this so I don't feel left out it's fine."

You boldly took the phone out of his hand. "On the contrary, I did enjoy myself. I'm totally fine with things getting rough, I just wasn't expecting it. You're always Mr. Sunshine and it was my first time meeting your alter ego. It just threw me for a loop."

You straddled his lap and tipped back his bucket hat.

"So who am I going to be playing with today?"

He laughed, relieved. "Well baby, I have a feeling you're gonna suck really badly at giving me a lap dance." He pulled your hips forward onto his already hard length. "So I thought maybe we could have some private lessons."

"I like that idea."

You kissed him wanting to erase any doubts he may have. Of all the boys, you interacted with Hobi the least. It's not to say that he wasn't sexy, he was just intimidating as fuck.

"So start."

"Just start? Don't I get music? This isn't very intimate or sexy. Can we turn the lights down?"

"You know you talk a good game, but I don't think you know what you're doing half the time."

In a swift motion he grabbed your ass and rolled you back from the chair onto the floor. His hips did a slow repeated wave, pressing his cock against your mound. His tongue licked from your collar bone up to your jaw and made its way into your eager mouth. "I'm gonna need you to stop talking and just follow my lead."

He got up to turn on music leaving you exasperated on the floor. He dimmed the lights and came back with an extended hand. Reeling you into him, his lips met yours, God he was a good kisser.

"Is the mood adequately set for you now?"

You could only nod, his magnetism holding you in awe at how he could turn his sexuality up to 100 with only a glance.

"Are you alright?" he laughed.

“Hobi? Why aren't you like this all the time?"

He shrugged, "They didn't give me the "sexy" persona."

"Well they made a fucking mistake."

He smiled, grabbing your hand he gave you a twirl. "You want to come sit on my cock now?"

You walked him backwards to the chair pulling off his shirt along the way. Giving his baggy track pants a tug his cock sprang free before he sat.

You're cunt was aching for him, you wanted him now.

Moving behind the chair you tilted his head back and kissed him. Your hands slid over his shoulders and down his pecks stopping to rub circles around his hard tan nipples. Dropping your dress you came back around swaying your hips in front of him.

He shook his head and reached out to guide them, "slower, like this." He directed your movements, fingers digging into your flesh. "Not just side to side, you want to go back and forth too."

He let go, "That's a good girl that's better. Now touch yourself."

You pushed your breasts together and rubbed them sensually. He sighed while grabbing your hands and demanded, "Pinch them, make your nipples hard." He placed your fingertips where he wanted them and you clamped them together. "Yeah, that's nice."

Leaning forward he flicked his tongue across the sensitive buds. First one side, than the other, licking them in turns. "Now sit on my lap and grind that pretty cunt against my cock."

You lowered yourself until your folds were pressing against his length.

"Now move."

Your wetness squelched every time his tip dragged across your opening and the ridge of his head kept catching on you clit.

It was long drawn out teasing, his hands and mouth keeping busy on your skin.

"I think I want more than just a lap dance Hobi, I want to feel you inside me."

He nodded, not willing to give up your nipple between his lips to answer.

Raising your hips you grabbed his cock and held it straight up beneath you. You both moaned loudly in unison when you bottomed out.

He slapped your ass and bit your lip, "Ride my cock baby."

You wanted to provoke him, push him to the place he liked being best. "If you want me to cum you're gonna have to fuck me harder."

Just as you hoped, his eyes lit on fire with hunger and he thrust as hard into you as he could. Quickly grabbing your hips he rendered you immobile before you could go for another stroke.

"Isn't my cock enough for your greedy little pussy? You've already been fucked today and you still need more?"

"If any of you fucked me like you meant it maybe I'd be satisfied."

Still connected he picked you up. Carrying you over to the wall of mirrors he loudly slammed your back onto the reflective surface. Stepping back, his cock pulled out of you stiff and covered in your cream. Grabbing your leg, he hooked it over the ballet bar and smirked as he rammed his cock back into you.

"You should be careful what you ask for."

The mirrors rattled and the wooden bar creaked as he bent his knees and fucked himself up into you. The height, the pressure, the slight curve of his cock all drove you wild as he ground deeply against your clit with every thrust.

"Fuck Hobi, you fuck so good."

He stopped again, this time placing the span of his hand on your neck. His lips smashed into yours wet and hot before he pulled away and stared deep into your eyes.

You nodded, giving him consent before he resumed pummeling into you. The pressure of his fingers on either side of your throat increased slightly.

"Say your safe word."

"Mercy," you whispered.

"Good Girl, look at me, don't look away."

The pleasure was intense as he continued. You were so close, all you could focus on was wave after wave of euphoria hitting you.

"Are you ready?"

He released his grasp from your neck and held on to the bar behind you leveraging it to stuff you hard and full of cum.

The intense rush of the once restricted blood flow had you seeing stars and crying out as your orgasm ripped through your body.

He held you up, his release dripping out of you in a warm gush down your legs.

"You did so good sweetheart." he kissed your forehead. "I think you're my new favorite dance partner."

Part 4: Jimin - Look but don't touch

#hobi smut #BTS Smut #bts poly #jhope smut #hoseok smut #studio sessions

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

Note

Aa that hurt/comfort fic was just *chef's kiss* . Thank you for writing it ! -Anon who likes seeing jaskier cry apparently

You know what, Nonnie? Today is a good day to have Jaskier cry some more. This time it doesn’t end in Geraskier or an apology.

Outright rejection was something Jaskier was used to. Being pelted with bread and other food items for a poor performance was a rejection. A potential bed partner shaking their head or pulling away was a rejection. Not winning a bardic competition was a rejection. Those, he could all take in stride and smile about. They were all obvious, usually quite blunt and with clear reasoning behind it. What Jaskier couldn’t cope with was the slow drip of dissatisfaction that oozed from Geralt. Like when they made camp.

“Will this be okay for the fire?” Jaskier would ask, proudly showing off his newly learned skills for making a decent fire.

“It will do.” The answer was grunted in his vague direction even as Geralt didn’t even look, tending to Roach instead. Three minutes later, Geralt had gathered a few more branches and rearranged the pile Jaskier had so proudly assembled.

If that had been the only incident, Jaskier wouldn’t have even remembered it. But it had been an ever present habit right from the start. From the “they don’t exist” comment on Jaskier’s song to the whole “I need no one and the last thing I need is someone needing me” thing. At almost every turn Jaskier was either put down or subtly reminded that he was a disappointment, an unwanted leech latched onto someone who wouldn’t even notice if Jaskier went missing. But what could Jaskier do? He’d hedged his bets on turning around the perception of witchers, on finding inspiration alongside the White Wolf. So he tried harder to be better, to be more of a companion to Geralt. Hence learning to make a fire (badly) and hunting (he’d only caught a rat but it was still an attempt).

Maybe Jaskier’s attempts had been paying off because he found himself on the trail up to Kaer Morhen, almost like a child clutching an adult’s coattails. But an invitation to Geral’ts winter home was still an invitation even if it was delivered with an “I doubt anyone wants you for winter this year if you’re still hanging around. You can shelter at Kaer Morhen.” Jaskier couldn’t even be offended because Geralt was right, nobody had wanted him for the winter.

The quiet disapproval continued at the keep.

“Pass the salt, this soup is bland.”

“Use the lighter swords, he can’t manage the full ones.”

“If you ignore the noise, it stops quicker.”

Each little comment wore Jaskier down. Even if some of them were said in what could be taken as a joke, a quip to get a laugh out of Lambert or a dig at Eskel’s sous chef abilities.

It all came to head one evening when Jaskier was composing. He was humming snippets, muttering words.

“Clear skies in the distance, raise a sword in defense.” It was definitely a work in progress.

“It doesn’t rhyme,” Geralt interrupted. “All good songs rhyme.”

Enough was enough. Jaskier was a bard, he knew his craft even if his tastes clearly didn’t match up with Geralt’s. Setting his lute to the side, Jaskier flipped his notebook closed and gathered up his things. It was a herculean task to keep all his emotions contained, knowing that Geralt grumbled about him being over dramatic when he expressed something. A small flicker of pride burned under all the shame as Jaskier managed to make it out of the room with his dignity mostly intact. He still heard the smack of someone being hit and the “ow, what was that for?” that followed from Geralt. Eskel’s answer was muffled but Geralt’s plaintive “I was helping. It was rubbish!” was the last thing Jaskier heard. The soft sob that finally escaped was hidden into the crook of his elbow.

“Hey bardling.” Lambert intercepted Jaskier’s path back to his room. “What’s got your spirit so dampened?”

“Geralt.” The answer came from Eskel who appeared behind Jaskier. “He was being an insufferable arse. Again.”

Scoffing, Lambert turned and put a hand on Jaskier’s elbow, guiding him away from his room and towards Eskel’s instead. Much to Jaskier’s bewilderment he was ushered onto the bed and the two witchers bracketed him between their warmth.

“It’s okay, we’ve got you.”

Wedged between what Jaskier had thought were two aloof and standoffish men, he found there was nothing keeping the emotions in.

“Why can’t I be good enough?” he sobbed. “Nothing ever pleases him.”

“He’s an idiot. You do plenty good,” Lambert jumped in.

Eskel hummed in agreement and carded thick fingers through Jaskier’s hair. “We told him we’d confiscate his bard if he wasn’t careful.”

The words had Jaskier’s crying interrupted with a small snort.

“Confiscate his bard sounds like an euphemism.”

Lambert grinned at him easily, nodding. “It can be. New entry in the dictionary: to confiscate his bard is to remove an underappreciated asset.”

Tears and giggles mixed in one breath as Jaskier tried to balance the conflicting emotions. He couldn’t quite get a grip on it and wet laughter was the result. At his back, Eskel pressed closer, a solid, warm comfort.

Strangely enough, Lambert and Eskel seemed to be deadly serious about their confiscation. Whenever Geralt appeared, one or the other of them would whisk Jaskier away, be it to help with alchemy or to see a flower Eskel thought might inspire a song but Jaskier was well and truly kept away from Geralt. At first he had minded, he was there as Geralt’s limpet, Jaskier didn’t think he ought to be inflicted on any other witcher. But the others seemed to delight in his company. For the first time in a long while, Jaskier considered that maybe he was wanted rather than tolerated.

That feeling never went away. He and Lambert spent a happy evening throwing back and forth worse and worse rhymes and limericks, laughing brightly as they got increasingly more bizarre. While the Cockatrice’ Crusty Cock wasn’t a song that Jaskier could ever debut anywhere, he was delighted to find Lambert humming it the next day. Three days later even Vesemir could be heard murmuring the tune with coughed out crude words.

Spring was around the corner and still Geralt was kept at an arm’s length. Even though he had made several attempts to pry Jaskier back into his grip, Lambert and Eskel fended him off. Jaskier hadn’t meant to overhear the conversation, he was already tucked up in bed when he heard a growled “where do you think you’re going?”

“To talk to Jaskier.” Geralt had never been one to mince his words.

“You can’t. He’s resting.” Even through a close door Jaskier could almost see Eskel crossing his arms over his chest and standing between the door and Gearlt.

“If you’d let me talk to him, I wouldn’t have to wake him to do it.” There was a hint of annoyance in Geralt’s voice. “I miss him.”

Not missing a beat, Eskel countered, “What do you miss about him?”

Silence stretched and Jaskier wondered whether he’d missed some crucial gesture or non-verbal communication. However, he heard the rustle of shifting clothes and Eskel’s derisive snort.

“That’s what I thought. Do you miss his optimism? His humour? His wit? His songs?” Another beat of silence and Eskel continued, much more softly. “Didn’t think so. You still don’t appreciate him and don’t deserve him. Lambert’s going to ask him to travel together in the spring. I’d take him myself but the mountains are no place for someone who thrives in company.”

“What about Aiden?”

“Aiden’s going to fucking adore him,” Eskel shot back. “Plus, it will do good for Jaskier to see other schools. And have two witchers to run circles around.”

Sure enough, come spring, Jaskier followed Lambert down the mountain, they met up with Aiden and, come winter, it was the three of them returning to Kaer Morhen. Their song could be heard before they could be seen.

#geralt of rivia #jaskier #eskel #lambert #the witcher #long post #tldr: jaskier deserves a better witcher

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bopbopstyles · 4 years

Text

1. December 26th, 2016

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 6.4k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | ASK

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

A/N: welcome to chapter one of THE ONLY EXCEPTION! i’m so flipping excited i could scream!!!!!! this fic is going to be a long boi so buckle up. also thank you to @meetmeinfleetwood for supporting this fic from the start ilysm!!!! xoxo, willa

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

Y/N’s dad had been having these Christmas parties for the past five years or so, each time on the 26th of December, each time packed with music industry people and lots of bottles of tequila and red wine. Her first time had been two years ago, and she had found it surprisingly enjoyable—she had expected it to be boring and to want to leave after the first hour. Instead, it was full of people she had known since she was a kid, musicians and producers and her dad’s old A&R guys who she had grown up hanging out with in recording studios and backstage at her dad’s shows. They had come to family dinners before and after her parents’ divorce, and so when she ran into them at the parties it was easy to catch them up on her life and suddenly it was after midnight and the party was emptying out.

This year she had volunteered to help set up. Her dad had rented a massive house out in the hills and it came already decorated, but it was on Y/N to make sure there were chairs set up for the music circle, a massive bar laid out and plenty of glasses ready. Her dad’s friend was making the food, eager to use the opportunity to promote the new restaurant he was opening, so when Y/N opened the door it already smelled like garlic and olive oil, her favorite scents on earth.

“Karl!” She called through the house, shutting the heavy oak door behind her. Her arms were laden with boxes of plastic glasses—her dad was too scared of the guests breaking glass ones—and she wandered into the kitchen. The tall ceilings of the entryway where a massive Christmas tree sat adorned with ornaments gave way to a modern, sleek kitchen. Karl twirled around to greet her, a grin on his face. “Smells delicious in here.”

He set down his spatula and came over, grabbing a box and giving her a kiss on each cheek. “Hello, darling. Are there more in the car?”

She shook her head, unwinding her scarf from her neck and placing it on the counter. Karl had been her father’s college roommate and somehow they’d stayed close over the years, every one of Y/N’s birthdays spent at one of Karl’s restaurants with all of her favorite dishes made special, a birthday cannoli with a candle in it for her to blow out. “This is all of the glasses. Dad told me to get the bar ready—he’s bringing the booze in a bit.”

“Hope there’s a glass of wine in there for the chef,” Karl said and Y/N chuckled—there always was a bottle of Karl’s favorite expensive wine set aside when he did one of these things and he knew it. It was part of the pay, her father always said. “Want to taste test?”

“Always.” Y/N joined Karl at the stove, eagerly tasting the sauce he was cooking. It was a simple sage butter sauce, but Karl always excelled at the most simple dishes. “Delicious, as usual,” she said.

Karl jabbered her ear off about the updates on the restaurant—they’d run into problems finding a good sous chef and he was about to do the job himself if he didn’t find someone soon—while Y/N decided where to set up the bar. Finally, she settled on a high table against the glass wall in the wide hallway between the kitchen and the sprawling dining room, which opened up onto the patio. She tugged open the accordion glass doors and breathed in the cool Los Angeles air, thankful for a relatively cold evening, since she always got overheated at parties like this, where people were crammed into every corner. Her dad seemed to know more people every year. Satisfied with the position of the table, she set out the glasses and paper napkins, before asking Karl if he had an extra cooler he’d brought with. She’d forgotten to ask her dad for one before she had left. She filled it with ice and set it next to the table with a scoop, and grabbed the special shot glasses her father had told her to bring, placing them on the table next to a bouquet of flowers.

Her job done, she wandered through the rest of the house. It was gorgeous—she wondered how her father had found it. If she remembered correctly, he had said something about it being an official venue for music and parties, he’d done a private gig here a few years back and the owners had loved him enough to offer it for this party. It’s not like anyone really had gigs on December 26th anyway. She closed all the doors to the back bedrooms, remembering her father’s request, and set up a coat closet of sorts out of the bedroom closest to the front, before heading to change into her outfit for the evening.

“Y/N!” She was securing her favorite pair of earrings in her ears when she heard her father’s voice through the halls of the house. “Where ya at, sweetheart?”

“One sec, Dad!” She grabbed the hanger she had kept her top on and shoved it into her massive purse, settling it into the back corner of the room for safety. Her father was waiting for her in the kitchen with Karl, also getting a sample of the sauce she had tried earlier.

“Hi you,” her father said when she came in. His salt and pepper hair was balding a bit, but his bright smile was what drew people in, olive skin that tanned easily in the California sun. Y/N had selected his suit for the evening, a maroon red and a black tie, something a bit out of the ordinary for him, but Y/N loved it. “Look gorgeous.”

She hugged her father tightly. She had spent Christmas with her mother, as usual, so this was the first time she’d seen her dad during the holidays. “Not too bad yourself, captain.”

“Ha!” Her father pinched her cheek softly, just as he had when she was a child. “I’ve got your present in the car, come grab it with me?”

“Sure.” They had decided to exchange gifts at the party and Y/N had hers tucked in the back pocket of her jeans—dinner on her at Karl’s new restaurant, something she’d discussed with the owner a few weeks ago. Her father’s car sat in the driveway, trunk open where boxes of alcohol laid waiting to be carried inside. “That my gift?”

“You wish,” her dad answered, and Y/N gave him a pouty look that he just shook his head at. He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out an envelope. Y/N couldn’t help but hope it was cash—she needed a new computer and was running a bit short. She knew her dad would help if she asked, but she hated asking him for money.

She took the envelope and opened it, a sheet of paper and something thicker hiding between its folds. She opened the letter and found a homemade coupon of sorts, just as she had done for him.

TWO TICKETS TO ANY SHOW IN LA - NON-REFUNDABLE, FUN REQUIRED!

“Papa,” she said, giving him a beaming smile. “My favorite!” She threw her arms around his neck and he chuckled, hugging her right back.

“Just give me a few weeks heads up, okay?”

Y/N nodded, and looked back down at the letter, eyes running over her dad’s sweet words of love and pride. It was their thing—homemade cards always, never store bought, despite that neither of them could draw. “Thank you.”

“Welcome, sweetheart.”

“Now yours!” She reached into her pocket and pulled out his envelope, aptly addressed, Dad, and handed it over. Her father read her card as well, and chuckled at her drawing of them at dinner together.

He kissed her forehead gently. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

“Merry Christmas,” she said, squeezing his side. “Now let’s get all this booze out of your car before I drive away with it!” Her dad laughed and followed her to the back of the car, them each grabbing a carton of wine. There had to be enough for over a hundred people, Y/N thought to herself. Who would be new this year?

The party was in full swing, her dad’s favorite music playing softly through the speaker system, people littered all over the house with the alcohol flowing. Karl was cooking up a storm in the kitchen, his food a massive hit, and Y/N couldn’t have been happier for him. She’d caught up with her dad’s friends and people who were essentially her godparents, sharing how her job was going (fine) and her relationship prospects (non-existent), sipping tequila and red wine on rotation.

Y/N leaned against the patio railing overlooking the hills, a glass of tequila on the rocks settled in between her palms. She could hear her father’s voice in the distance calling people to come and start the music, the scrape of chairs and strumming of guitars. It was about time for her to go in, but she lingered, relishing the quiet of the night and the biting air wrapping around her. Since she didn’t play an instrument, despite her father’s attempts, this part of the evening was the part where she just sat back and observed. And also usually got quite drunk since all she had to do was drink and sing along.

“Y/N, right?” She turned around, eyes focusing on the person standing a few feet away. “I’m Harry.”

Harry Styles. How had he ended up here, and how had she not seen him yet? “Nice to meet you,” she answered, standing up straight and taking a sip of her drink. “Not going in to play?”

He shook his head. “Bit nervous, if I’m honest. Lot of talent in that room.”

She cocked her head to the side as he joined her at the railing. “You’re plenty talented,” she told him. It was true. She was a huge fan of his, had been for a while, following his work in One Direction since its inception, and now in the solo career her dad had mentioned. He was recording with some guys out at The Village a few months ago and called her at the end of the day, saying he ran into Harry Styles in the middle of a session doing some solo stuff. Said it sounded good, which she wasn’t surprised by in the slightest.

But Harry just chuckled. “Nah, those people are legends,” he said. She knew who he was talking about, too. One of the Dixie Chicks was there, some guys who had written with John Mayer and Kanye West, a dozen other Grammy-nominated musicians, some record label execs who had practically formed the industry as they knew it today, the A&R people who had found them. It was intimidating, definitely, but for Harry she didn’t think it would be.

“Just people.” She sipped on her drink, studying him. He was in a long black coat, a loose black v-neck silk shirt and red and white plaid pants that tapered at the leg, his cropped curls falling into his face slightly. He also had a tequila on the rocks gripped in his hand, rings adorning every one of his fingers. A skull, a red stone, a silver band, amongst them. “Having fun?”

He smiles at her, thankful for the change of topic. “Loads. Haven’t been at a party like this in a while.”

“What do you mean?”

The breeze passed between them, ruffling his hair a bit. “I don’t know. Just, people who didn’t really give a shit about me, if you know what I mean? Holidays can be a bit much sometimes.”

She nodded as if she understood what it felt like to be a popstar of his fame, which she didn’t, but she could imagine. “Didn’t go home?”

“My mum and sister came here, actually,” he said. “They were craving a respite from the cold English winters.”

“Well, this is definitely a respite,” Y/N said, and Harry chuckled.

Silence stretched between them and Y/N tapped her fingernails against her cup. Maybe it was time to go inside, she thought. “So, Y/N, what do you do?”

His question pulled her out of her head easily. “Brand strategy,” she answered, thankful for a comfortable topic. “I work mostly with fashion and product companies, preferably sustainable ones.”

“You like it?”

“Love it.” She did. She loved her work—she’d gone to school for it and thrown herself into it after school, loving pitching projects for clients and helping them understand their core purpose and how they could grow and evolve most authentically. “It was that or books, but I decided this was a bit more profitable. Also wasn’t too keen on living in New York.”

Harry nodded, twirling his glass in his hands. She took the opportunity to run her eyes across his face—he was gorgeous in this way that you weren’t sure was real. It was interesting to see how much he’d grown up. At 22, his cheekbones were cut and his jaw defined, his former long locks he had recently cut and Y/N liked these more, she decided. “What are your favorite writers?” He asked, pulling Y/N back into the conversation.

“That’s like asking which one of your children is your favorite,” she joked, and he chuckled, the sound music to Y/N’s ears. “Dunno, really. I read so much it’s hard to choose, you know? Reading a Louise Erdrich book right now that’s absolutely stellar. The Round House—you should give it a go if you’ve got the time.”

He pulled out his phone and she watched him type in the name to his Notes app, the action making her smile. “Been looking for a new book,” he said. “Just been reading The New Yorker and my mum about took my head off for not reading enough.” They both laughed, the sound filling the night air.

“Harry!” A man was standing in the doorway to the patio, a guitar in hand. “Come sing, mate.”

Harry glanced back at Y/N. “Coming?”

Y/N nodded and followed him inside, refilling her glass on the way. Harry handed her his, and she did the same, giving them both another glass of tequila to sip on while they listened to the circle of musicians. Someone had decided to do some Christmas tunes she Y/N smiled when she heard her father’s voice—he’d made it a bit country, just like he loved to do with popular songs. He’d grown up on a steady diet of folk music and country, just as Y/N had, and he always joked it was in his blood. Harry took a seat next to his friend who Y/N didn’t recognize—probably some producer her dad had met recently, maybe one of the guys from The Village if that was how they’d connected, and Y/N grabbed the seat her dad had saved for her next to him.

She joined in immediately, knowing this rendition of “The Little Drummer Boy” by heart, since it was the same one he had made up when Y/N was eight or nine. Karl was in the circle too, a plate of food in his hands and his bottle of red wine on the ground, and he gave her a warm smile. This was her favorite part of the night—feeling a part of something her father loved so dearly. When he gave her a kiss to her temple and introduced her to the group, she couldn’t help but find Harry’s eyes, his irises twinkling back at her under the lights.

At one o’clock, people finally began filtering out of the party, and Harry decided it was probably time for him to head. Jeff, who had invited him to come with, had already left, exhausted from the holidays with family, but Harry had stayed, hoping to talk to Y/N for a little while longer. He had unfortunately failed to catch her, though, the music running long and after it had wrapped up people had tugged her in for hugs and conversation. Despite knowing who she was through her father, he was still in awe of how intimately she knew all of these people. He overheard snippets of her conversations, asking about children and partners, parents who had cancer and career-defining moments she’d missed out on because of work. Harry was in this world too, but many of the people at this party were a bit older than his usual set—they belonged to the group of his heroes, rather than necessarily people he felt were his peers. He was still getting his solo career together, still only a boyband member in their eyes. He tried not to feel less than, but sometimes it was hard when you were sat next to Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks with utterly nothing to say but awe-inspired ramblings.

Finally, Y/N was alone, the older couple she was talking to having left for the door, and Harry seized the opportunity. “Y/N,” he said, and her head popped up from her phone to look at him. Her dark brown hair was soft against her skin, and he eagerly wondered what it felt like against his skin, brown eyes that searched his soul. “I loved talking to you earlier.”

She smiled and Harry loved it when she did. Lit up the whole room, just about. “Me too. Glad you came—with Jeff, yeah?”

He nodded. “He introduced me to your dad when we were at The Village.” Y/N nodded as well, obviously having figured out the story. “I—I was wondering, would you want to grab coffee sometime? I’d love to chat more, get to know you.” He restrained the urge to bounce on his heels, nervous in front of her. He felt like a kid asking out his crush, but that’s what this was, a crush. Even if it came to nothing, she was kind, interesting, and fit into the world he revolved in. It wasn’t the most important thing, but he appreciated it all the same.

“Oh,” she said, tone somber. “Sorry, Harry, but I don’t date musicians. Get home safe, yeah?” She turned away from him, feet carrying her back into the living room, presumably finding her father.

What? She didn’t date musicians? “I’m sorry—what?”

Y/N turned back to look at him. “I just don’t. Bit of a rule.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Don’t feel the need to explain it. Bye, Harry.” Then, she walked away and Harry was left in shock. The abrupt change in tone was like whiplash—she had seemed so interested, involved in their conversation, only to tell him she didn’t date musicians? What the fuck kind of rule was that?

He huffed and tugged out his phone to tell his driver he was ready, and went outside, leaving behind Y/N and her confusing rule. But this wouldn’t be the last time he saw her, he decided. He wanted to know why she had this rule, this stupid rule that was stopping her from getting to know him. It wasn’t like he even asked her to date him, just to get coffee for Pete’s sake. Harry sat down in the car and pulled out his phone, composing a text to Jeff.

Could I write with Peter? Seemed like a great guy, really talented. Maybe if she got to Y/N’s dad, he could earn some brownie points. Maybe then she’d bend her rules for him, because despite their short conversation, Harry was intrigued.

Definitely, Jeff replied. I’ll text him tomorrow.

Harry closed his phone and smiled. Hopefully this worked, because Harry was dying to know more about this rule of hers.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed when she pulled into her dad’s driveway. There was another car sat in the drive, a black 4-door SUV she’d never seen before, the windows tinted so she couldn’t see in. It reminded her of those cars the FBI drives in crime dramas, which obviously led her to a part of her brain that was not necessarily a hopeful place. She scrambled to grab her bag from work and her keys, launching herself from her car and towards her dad’s door.

“Dad!” She called into the house, slamming the door shut behind her. “Whose car is in the drive? Didn’t tell me we’d be having company!” Gripping the wall for balance she toed off her shoes and set her bag on the floor next to the door, shrugging off her coat and setting it on a hook. “Dad?”

“He’s in the toilet.”

Her head whipped around and found Harry Styles standing in her hallway, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. As much as she had planned to forget about him after the party, never really expecting to see him again, she hadn’t been able to. And now he was in her house, hair pushed back from his face, a grin painted on his lips. It was irritating how gorgeous he was. “The fuck are you doing here?”

A hand went up to scratch the back of his neck and for a second Y/N regretted being quite so aggressive. “‘M writing with your dad,” he explained. “Guess he didn’t tell you.”

“No,” she answered. She brushed past him into the living room where, as Harry had said, it was obvious they had been writing. Her dad’s treasured old Gibson guitar leaning against his favorite armchair where he’d set it, computers out with GarageBand up for recording demos, papers with scribbles strewn across the coffee table. “Good session?” She decided that there was no way he was here just to pursue her—he was there for professional reasons, after all. Her dad and Harry must’ve hit it off at the party last week. There was also the fact that her dad was a really fucking good songwriter, so of course Harry would want to work with him. Ever since he’d stopped touring, her dad had started doing mainly writing, his songs appearing on records from everyone from up-and-coming artists the label found him to John Legend.

Harry just nodded. Her eyes drifted to his own guitar, a soft brown wood that had obviously seen some heavy use and travel. She recognized it from her dad’s own guitars that he used to take on the road with him, the nicks and faded wood at the base of the bridge.

“Y/N!” Her dad’s voice fell through the silence of the room as he re-entered. He was wearing his favorite old UCLA shirt, where she’d just graduated from not too long ago. “Home earlier than usual. Was going to give you a heads up about this one,” he pointed to Harry then, “but I see you’ve already found out.”

Her eyes drifted to Harry, who stood awkwardly next to the couch, unsure if he should sit or stand. “Finished my projects early and didn’t have any meetings, so thought I’d get out early and surprise you.”

“Well,” her father said, giving her a quick hug, “glad you did. I’m getting hungry, how about you?” She nodded, she was always ravenous after work. “Harry, would you want to stay for dinner?”

No, she thought. The last thing she wanted was to sit at a table with a guy she’d rejected and her father and eat an awkward dinner on a Friday night. She just wanted a massive glass of red wine, her delicious romance novel from her bedside table, and maybe lighting a fire in the pit in the backyard.

Instead, Harry said, “Sure. Don’t want to impose though.”

“Nonsense! Y/N why don’t you go change and Harry and I can tidy up from working. We were about done anyway.” Her dad kissed the top of her head sweetly and she just did as he said, Harry a forgotten thought behind her as she went to her room upstairs.

It was her childhood bedroom which she had been residing in for a month now. How her landlord could put her out for this long was beyond her, but she hadn’t had the energy to fight it—plus, it was an opportunity to spend some quality time with her workaholic father. So she was spending her evenings in her light blue colored room, sleeping between her soft pink sheets, and picking her work clothes that butted up against remnants from high school she’d left behind as memories. Y/N pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a loose white t-shirt that probably belonged to an ex-fling from college—Daniel maybe? Y/N couldn’t remember. Slipping on a pair of socks to keep her feet warm from the tile floors of the kitchen, she left her room, tugging her door shut so if Harry went exploring he wouldn’t stumble into her room.

Downstairs, Harry was sat at the kitchen island with a glass of wine and a smile on his face, deep in conversation with her dad about Fleetwood Mac’s chord progressions. A glass of red was waiting for her on the counter and she picked it up, wandering over to where her dad was cooking

“Whatcha making?” She asked, peeking into the pot.

“Pasta,” he replied. “Now stop being a nosy Nelly and talk to our guest while I try to focus on not burning the pasta.”

“Dad you haven’t even put it in yet.”

Her dad shooed her from the stove and she chuckled, backing away. “Get out of here, ya pest.”

She turned to Harry, realizing her dad was actively trying to get them to hang out. He was so annoying sometimes. “How do you feel about a fire?”

“Positively,” he answered and she led him outside into her backyard.

It was chilly out, but nothing too bad. She set her glass on the table and went over to the stack of wood her dad kept against the fence, picking up some logs and carrying them over to the fire pit they’d had for years. At first it was so Y/N could roast marshmallows at home, her father trying to do anything to get her to come over to his house more after the divorce, and as time had gone on it had become her favorite place in the whole house. When her dad was out of town and she came over to check up on the house in high school, she’d bring her weed and smoke out here under the stars.

Harry sidled up next to her and picked up a few logs, following her to the fire pit. “This is cool,” he said, words breaking their silence.

Y/N dropped the logs into the fire and looked up at him. “Favorite part of the whole house.” A box of matches sat next to the door and she grabbed them, as well as some kindling, and brought it over to the logs, setting the kindling under the logs before lighting them. The fire leaped up, the wood nice and dry from the lack of rain recently. “So, who got in touch with who?”

Harry looked at her in confusion. “Huh?”

She settled into one of the chairs set by the fire, wine tucked between her fingers. “The writing. You or my dad?”

“Oh,” he answered, joining her in the chair next to her. “Me, actually. Through Jeff.”

As expected. “And?”

“He’s really good,” Harry said, to which Y/N chuckled.

“That he is.”

“What was it like growing up with him as your dad?” He asked, breaking the silence between them.

Y/N shifted in her chair. She’d been asked this question so many times over the years, but it still was hard to answer. “Hard, if I’m being honest,” she told him, truth surprising her. But she had a feeling Harry would get it to a certain extent. He was a hugely popular star, after all. She’d heard rumors that he was a part of a movie coming out this year, something historical. “Like, my parents are divorced, which I assume you know.” He nodded, probably having figured it out by now. “And with my dad’s tour schedule when I was in school, I didn’t see him all that much, especially in elementary and middle school. He was gone all the time, even missed my birthday a couple times because of tour dates, so I just didn’t really know him that well, I guess. Fuck, sorry, this is a lot,” she breathed out, realizing she was rambling. Harry was just surprisingly easy to talk to, his eyes steady on her, intently listening to her every word. Boys didn’t usually listen to her like this.

“S’fine,” he replied. “When did it change, if you don’t mind me asking? Seem so close now.”

The fire, having grown by now, crackled in front of them. “Late high school, but mainly when I was in college. My mom moved to San Francisco for a job and I went to UCLA, so my dad was closest. Came over to do my laundry sometimes, have a home cooked meal, he’d take me to dinner, that stuff. Came to football games with me, sometimes, which he always tried to be interested in but never succeeded.” Harry chuckled at that and Y/N smiled at the sound. Harry was obnoxiously pretty. Like, impossibly pretty in this way where you couldn’t help but look at him again to make sure that yes, he was a real person. And it was really fucking distracting. “His touring kind of stopped when I went into college too,” she added, trying to refocus on the conversation. “Started writing mainly, putting out music only when it suited him. He’s a lot happier now, I think.”

“That’s good,” he said, taking a sip of wine. “I’m glad you guys were able to have that kind of relationship, even if it was later.”

Y/N blinked at him, his words so kind and honest. “Me too.”

“Always been one of my fears, if I’m being honest,” he said, words soft in the cool night air. Sun was starting to set and it was getting dark around them, the light of the fire putting an orange ember to his face. “About having kids with my career, you know? I want to be a dad, but it’s like…how do I do that while being gone all the time?” His honesty shocked her, but then again Harry Styles seemed to be excelling at that in every regard. “Sorry, that’s a lot to unload on you.”

“No it isn’t,” she reassured him. “Just told you about all my daddy issues, yeah?” He chuckled, and it lightened the mood just enough. “You’ll figure it out.”

Harry nodded, taking another sip of his wine and she did the same. It was her favorite, the one her dad bought multiple of whenever she came to stay. Even though they’d gotten closer over the years, his desire to make his house perfect for her never seemed to fade. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Shoot.”

“The rule—I—why is that?”

Well, fuck. This was the exact conversation she didn’t want to have, the one she was hoping he wouldn’t bring up. “It’s actually related to what you were just saying,” she said slowly. He’d get it after everything she’d explained and the fears he shared, right? “I don’t date musicians because they’re always gone.”

Harry was quiet, absorbing her answer. It was true, they always were gone—she had every right to her rule, she told herself. She didn’t want a repeat of what her parents had experienced, what she’d experienced. Her dad’s job had ruined everything in their family, ripping her parents apart, keeping him away from her for more of the year than he was home. She didn’t want the same thing for her kids. “That’s a pretty broad stroke, isn’t it?” Harry said though, pushing back against her. “Like all musicians. Kinda a generalization ‘bout us.”

“You said it yourself,” she said, leaning forward in her chair and resting her elbows on her thighs. “You’re gone all the time. How do you build a life with someone who isn’t there half the time?”

“Devil’s advocate,” Harry said, setting his wine on the arm of his chair, “but hypothetically you’re dating someone who tours all the time. But they make you a priority, coming home and seeing you, putting your relationship first. That wouldn’t matter? You wouldn’t even take the chance that it could work out okay?”

This time it was Y/N who was quiet. “I mean, musicians only have so much control over their schedules,” she said, remembering the excuses her dad used to tell her. “Plus, it’s not the relationship that’s the problem. It’s the part when you get to marriage and kids.”

“…So it’s better to just avoid the whole thing entirely?”

Y/N nodded, her logic laid out in front of her. She’d never had to do this before—most times, guys just took her at her word and dropped it all together. Harry pushed though, wanting to understand in a way the others didn’t care enough to do. “It’s safer.”

“But then you miss out on the opportunity to fall in love with someone,” Harry says, his words like rocks in her stomach. “And what if that person was a musician?”

Y/N had a feeling they were no longer talking in hypotheticals. “We can fall in love with tons of different people.”

“No soulmates and shit for you, then?” She shook her head. She didn’t believe in all that crap, never had. Relationships were about work, effort, time. The person was important, but the life that person led mattered more to her. How much they’d prioritize the relationship, the kind of life they wanted to build. “That’s kind of depressing,” Harry said.

The fire crackled and popped. “I don’t think so. It’s…practical.”

“Love isn’t supposed to be practical, Y/N.”

Y/N found herself speechless. She didn’t have an answer for him. She’d never been in love before, that was for sure. Hadn’t found that kind of love that people like Harry write songs about and she’d often found herself wondering when it was going to happen for her. There just hadn’t been any guys that were right for her yet.

“Y/N! Harry!” She turned and her dad was in the doorway, pasta sauce splattered on his shirt. He’d always been a messy cook. “Dinner’s ready.”

Y/N took one last look at Harry before grabbing her wine and heading inside, Harry following at her heels.

After dinner, Harry decided this was his last chance at Y/N. He couldn’t exactly use the same excuse twice and after understanding her rule, he was determined to be the exception. He helped Y/N clear the plates while her dad settled in at the TV in the other room, telling them it was his time to watch the nightly news and they could clean up since he had cooked. Harry had missed being in a home like this, the kind where he got told to clean up from dinner and there was calm and normal conversation at the table, Y/N talking about her day at work and Harry sharing about his activities from his mum’s visit. It brought him a kind of peace he didn’t know he needed.

The plate clattered on the counter as he set it down, Y/N turning, her hands soapy with the water from the dishes. “Gonna break our dishes,” she said with a snort. “Be careful, please.”

“Sorry,” Harry said sheepishly. He’d cleared the table, so he grabbed a dish rag from the peg and joined Y/N at the sink, taking the clean dishes from the rack and drying them, stacking them on the counter since he didn’t know where they belonged in the cabinets.

They worked in silence, the only sound her dad’s TV from the other room. He could hear Rachel Maddow’s show on NBC, the same one he liked to watch, learning from her commentary on American politics that he was still trying to wrap his brain around.

“Y/N,” he said when they’d finished the dishes. “I promise I heard everything you said earlier.” She looked at him with curiosity in her eyes, trying to figure out where he was going with this. Harry tried to pick his words delicately, wanting to make sure she knew he did hear her, he was just entranced by her and couldn’t give her up. “But what is the likelihood you would be willing to give it a shot? With me?”

She took the dish towel from his hands and dried her own, considering his words. The waiting was killing him, but he didn’t want to rush her. He knew what her worries were and he was asking her to put them aside.

“We’ll take it slow,” he told her, stumbling over the words. “Promise. You set the pace, you decide about commitments. I just…” Can’t stop thinking about you.

But then Y/N surprised him by saying, “I know. I feel that way too.” His eyes widened, not believing the words from her mouth. “I’ll give it a shot,” she said slowly. “Better make the date good.”

“You sure?”

“I wouldn’t ask again unless you’d like me to change my mind.”

“Can I get your number then?” She nodded and read it off, Harry typing the numbers into his phone next to her name. Then Harry shut up and just smiled at her, following her like a puppy dog into the other room where her dad sat watching TV. She curled up on the couch, pulling the blanket her dad had so it would cover part of her and his heart softened at how sweet she looked. He loved seeing her like this, at home, comfortable in her space. “I’m going to head out,” he said. “Thank you so much for dinner, Peter.”

Y/N’s dad turned from the TV and gave him a wide smile. “Of course, Harry. You’re welcome anytime—wouldn’t want you to get lonely out here!”

His eyes drifted to Y/N and he knew that with her around, there was never anyway he could be lonely.

TAGLIST

@smokeinherperfume @afire-hes @harryinsweatersandbandanas @marinalima3 @havethetimeofyourstyles @ursogoldenshan @inmygardensuit @marinalima3 @amaridon @harrys-watermelons @dontgiveupthedayjob @cronias13 @apples2019

Would you like to know when I update The Only Exception? Let me know here!

NEXT CHAPTER COMING JULY 4TH @ NOON CST

#Harry Styles Fan Fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #1dff #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #mine

565 notes · View notes

shadyteacup · 3 years

Note

Hello Teacup! Congratulations to your 300+ followers, they're well deserved!!!! 🥳☺️ We haven't interacted yet because I tend to be shy, but let me tell you that I enjoy reading your works a lot 👉🏼👈🏼.

I'd love to request the fluffy prompt number 8 for Aku pls. I just read it and thought the combination could be hilarious 🤭

Hi there! Interacting with u has been so much fun♡💕

This is such a cute req uwuwuwu

Warnings: none♡

Word count: 1058

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke + "I love you a lot, but please stop trying to cook me dinner, you suck.”

Spring onions

It was quite a busy day for your dearest, today. He had called you today during lunch to tell you that he had been assigned quite an extravagant mission today, hence, he might come home later than usual. You had rushed home after your shift had ended to cook him a lovely dinner. You had been experimenting in the kitchen lately. You were tired of ordering takeout, but seeing how Akutagawa was almost always busy, he could not take over cooking duty. It was up to you to make your meals healthy, and you were going to ensure that both of you got the right amount of nutrition for a healthy body.

“Spring onions? We don’t have those!”

You rushed to the fridge, rummaging through the drawers in search of the leafy green. The vegetable drawer was filled all sorts of exotic stuff, save for spring onions.

Sighing, you close the fridge, bunching up your hair with your fingers.

“It’s Chinese food we’re talking about here, of course, we need spring onion. God, I’m so dumb!”

Akutagawa loved Manchurian. You had intended to cook some of that tasty dish and toss up some fried rice to go along with it. But you cannot do any of that without bloody onions.

You defeatedly picked up the paper menu of the Chinese restaurant that delivered to your address and placed your order. Sighing, you flopped yourself on the sofa, reaching for the tv remote and randomly tuning into a channel.

“What do we do now, chef?”, a sweet voice echoed from the screen. A man wearing one of those crazy chef hats grinned at the camera and held up an egg.

“Now, we add the eggs! Then we beat the batter properly. That way, our cake will turn out soft and spongy!”

You sat up straight.

“Of course, cake!”

You could bake for your beloved! Rushing to the kitchen, you put on an apron and rustled about, searching for some flour and cocoa. Opening Pinterest on your phone, you searched for that chocolate chip cake recipe that you had pinned a few weeks ago.

Grinning at the pin, you got to work.

...

Akutagawa came home to the wonderful fragrance of vanilla and chocolate. He rushed to the kitchen to see you invert the cake onto a container.

“Wow.”, he said, eyes trailing over the golden-brown dessert.

“Welcome home!”, you said, holding up your mitten clad hands to wave at him.

He hurriedly changed into home clothes and rushed to the kitchen. He was so tired. All he wanted now, was a warm meal. You handed him a plate of the takeout you had ordered, ushering him towards the table that was set up with candles and a bowl full of delicious looking slices of your tea cake.

“You did all this, for me?”, he said, astonished and touched.

“Yup! I wanted to lighten up your mood. Also, considering today’s mission, I figured you would be beat, and some lovely cake would do the trick.”

He reached forward to gently grasp your palm in his. Kissing your knuckles, he thanked you.

You tried your best to prevent your face from turning a deep red hue.

“S-shut up, no need to thank me. When did you get so soft?”

“When I met my darling.”, he said, eyes trained on his meal, trying to avoid your gaze.

You giggled at his flirty words. Nobody had expected THE Akutagawa Ryuunosuke to be a hopeless romantic. He flirted with you 24/7. It was very entertaining to watch him say such sweet words, only to blush and hide his face behind a cough to avoid you because of how flustered he gets.

Placing a slice of the warm cake on his plate, you urged him to take a bite.

He bit into it and froze. You grinned, your eyes shining brightly.

“Is it that good? Good enough to make you pause??”

He chewed slowly, smiling ever so slightly.

“Yay! Here, have some more!”

You were about to place another slice onto his plate when he stopped you.

“What’s wrong?”

"I love you a lot, but please stop trying to cook me dinner, you suck.”

You blinked at him, trying to understand.

Sighing, he held your hand, giving you a pitiful look.

“You’ve been trying so hard to cook some healthy food for me, I love you for that. Its just that, cooking isn’t quite for you.”

“Hah?! Everything I’ve made so far was fabulous!”

“You burnt the chicken.”

“That was an accident!”

“The soup tasted like tar.”

“I added a wrong powder, how could I have known?!”

“The omelette was undercooked and overcooked at the same time. How did you even manage that?”

“That’s the pan’s fault! It isn’t non-stick, so the underside got burnt, but the top layers weren’t cooked and- ”

“The cake doesn’t have sugar.”

“Bullshit. I remember adding it!”

He sighed, offering you a slice.

“Here, see for yourself.”

You huffed, biting off a large chunk, only to spit it out.

“Blegh! That’s horrible!”

He rubbed circles on your back comfortingly.

“There, there.”

You glared down at the cake.

“But I remember adding sugar...”

He chuckled, patting your head.

“You remember adding a white powder. It probably wasn’t sugar.”

You gasped.

“I added salt!”

He nodded solemnly.

He hugged you, pecking your forehead.

“Hey, it’s the effort that counts!”

You snuggled into his chest, gazing at his jet-black hair. The icy white tips looked so elegant. They kind of reminded you of Elsa. Also, flour. Now that you think about it, he was just like the cake. Super salty, but soft hearted.

“I love you, frosty.”

He snickered.

“Frosty?”

“Yeah. Your hair looks so beautiful, especially the white ends. Besides, you’re always freezing cold. So, Frosty.”

You smile up at him innocently.

He sighed, kissing your nose.

“Do you remember that time you had tried eating cupcakes and that little boy ran into you? The frosting was all over your face! You looked so adorable.”

He grumbled, “Why must you remember that?”

“Because it makes you even more of a Frosty!”

“Sh-shut up.”

“But it’s true! I’m going to text Gin about this. We should all call you frosty!”

“Don’t you dare!”

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grishaversecommunityyy · 3 years

Text

The Grishaverse Ship Survey Results

So! After all of that, we finally have the results! What is the general opinion on the ships in the Grishaverse? Well, that’s for you to read below! It’s actually pretty interesting and, while some parts make sense, there were definitely some parts which... surprised me... Anyway, onto the results!

Everything in this post can be split into:

The Grisha Trilogy

Six Of Crows Duology

The Nikolai Series

Shadow and Bone: TV Series

Most Enjoyed Ships

Least Enjoyed Ships

Crack Ships and Shipping Discourse

Notes from the Survey

(note from mod emily: i tried to bold all of fritz’ comments, but i might have missed a few! be aware there are two of us analysing here :))

The Grisha Trilogy

The first book series we asked about was, of course, the first chronologically: the Grisha Trilogy. The most popular ship, with 83% voters for this series selecting this, was Genya/David (Fritz was glad to hear that; Yes I am). This is likely due to the lack of alternate romantic interests in the series, which seems to be a major issue for Alina’s ships. It also seems to be one genuinely enjoyed by most fans, in contrast to Darkling/Alina and Mal/Alina (each around 30%) and Nikolai/Alina (just under 20%), for which I have definitely seen plenty of debate. The second and third most popular ships for this series were Tamar/Nadia (55%) and Nikolai/Zoya (47%). Interestingly, Genya/Alina (43%) and Zoya/Alina (30%) ranked surprisingly high, especially considering how few of my friends and associates I hear talking about them. Good for them!

Honourable mentions:

Alina/Sun (no doubt inspired by that crack fic I wrote a while back) (Still havent read that out of fear)

Alina alone (a common concept among those surveyed, though most mentioned it later)

Zoya/Genya or Alina/Zoya/Genya

Six Of Crows Duology

This series was a little less divided, I would say. Predictably, Kaz/Inej came out on top with a whopping 96% of voters (:relieved:), with Wylan/Jesper next (90%) and Nina/Matthias just after (83%). None of the others really came close, despite Nina/Inej gathering 35% of the votes and Colm/Aditi at 25% (yeah, I’m not sure why that was so popular on AO3 either, but nobody really has objections so I assume that’s why it amassed so many votes). As Six of Crows is decidedly less divisive about ships and doesn’t have such controversial ships (more on that later), it seems the fandom agrees with canon pairings and the votes are... pretty unanimous.

Honourable Mentions:

Jesper/Wylan/Kuwei

Polycrows (platonic or romantic)

Kaz/Inej/Nina

Whoever didn’t read the instruction about this being for only the book series and put Jesper/Milo. I will never escape.

The Nikolai Series

This one is a little harder for me because I actually haven’t read this... so over to Fritz for analysis! But first, the stats. At 85%, the most popular ship is Genya/David, followed by Zoya/Nikolai at 77%. Tamar/Nadia and Nina/Hanne draw at 61.5% and Nina/Matthias has 56% voters onboard. There’s no real honourable mentions for this one, sadly. Hello Fritz here! Read the books and very glad to see Genya/David as the top ship as it damn well should. Although still a bit surprising since its more of a side-arc of the two and only ties in with the importance of the story at a specific chapter that I feel like I don’t need to elaborate about, if you read Rule of Wolves. (I believe the popularity of the ship also sky-rocketed due to ROW) Following of course Zoya/Nikolai, the high ranking makes sense, it is the main ship and lets be honest they deserve it <3

I think the only really surprising thing about this is the high votes for Nina/Matthias since [SPOILERS CROOKED KINGDOM] he’s dead so I feel like people should move on from that. Nina/“Hanne” having not as high a ranking as I would’ve thought, but with Matthias still being in the frame I guess we shouldn’t be surprised either.

Shadow and Bone: TV Series

This one is really interesting, with the exclusive show watchers now taking part! We have 89% voting for Kaz/Inej, 76% for David/Genya, 71% for Matthias/Nina, 67% for Ivan/Fedyor (that’s a thing???-->Yeah they had a few somewhat sweet interactions in the background-->nvm i watched it you’re right fritz) and 62% for Mal/Alina. What’s really surprising is how high Malina is compared to Darklina, with Darkling/Alina at 36%. Who knows, maybe Fritz’ analysis can shed some light on this?

Yes yes Fritz to the rescue: First of all we have to see their interactions a little different from what we already knew of them by the end of episode 8. I still think it is a surprising number, since the Darkling in the show isn’t as nasty as he was in the books BUT over all his actions are now seen on TV. We all thought the deer antlers were a necklace amirite? Well no apparently not, the darkling used the worst kind of small science to fit Alinas collarbone to the bone and out comes a gruesome sight: a reason why many people might have started thinking: Wow what a disgusting person he is. And on the Malina “ship”: Mal finally has personality!! jkjk :eyes: Mals and Alinas friendship has been portrayed way better in the show and I believe that the people noticed more chemistry between them especially by the end of season 1. So I’m still a little surprised Darklina has such a low ranking (what with him being all sweet and cuddly in the middle of the show) but it makes sense and the Malina ship as well. Their vibes are just *chefs kiss* and thats coming from someone who didnt even like any of these “ships” <3

Loving the quotation marks for the word ‘ships’, Fritz. Over to the honourable mentions!

Honourable Mentions:

Jesper and Milo (isn’t milo a goat? guys, why?)

Nadia/Marie (huh that didn’t appear anywhere else)

One person had several - Kaz/Inej/Jesper, Dubrov/Mikhael, Dubrov/Mikhael/Mal - and yeah, you can really see the show differences in these mentions right? (whose dubrov...and whose mikhael...)

16% actually voted for Inej/Alina which is wild to me because of book context (they did have chemistry in the show tho :cowboi_smirk:)

Another person with several! We have Nina/Inej, Genya/Alina, Zoya/Alina, Zoya/Genya/Alina. Very sapphic. Good for you.

Kaz/Jesper and Nina/Inej all in one

That’s a lot of honour and mentions but it’s so interesting to me and I think you should see too

Most Enjoyed Ships

The most enjoyed ship was Kaz/Inej. This had unparalleled support, being at 35%. Jesper/Wylan, which was next on the list (23.5%) and Nina/Matthias (18%) were also pretty popular. Most of the others were quite low, though interestingly Mal/Alina only had 1 vote (plus one for the show version). Overall, the SoC ships were a lot more popular in this section, which makes sense - this part is really about your favourite ship, and those were more unanimous in the last sections.

Least Enjoyed Ships

Most people said Darkling/Alina, which got 47% of the NOTP votes. A lot more people disliked Darkling/Alina than liked Kaz/Inej. Make of that what you will, but I take it as a somewhat general agreement among many of you guys. Mal/Alina was also strongly disliked at 22%, but around a half or more of these were clarified to be about the book version of the ship specifically. They really must’ve upgraded in the show! Jesper/Kuwei and any other Darkling ships were also voted by a few, but all of these pale in comparison to the anti-Darklina votes. Shoutout to the person who said Apparat/Anyone. I agree, though it’s not something I thought of before seeing this response. Also one person said they didn’t like the poly ships, which I hope meant just the ones mentioned earlier and not all poly relationships in general... Another shoutout to whoever said Kaz/Heleen, because why did I have to read that. A fun question, all in all!

Crack Ships and Shipping Discourse

I love talking about crack ships, so let’s start with that! This time, I really don’t want to have to count and list because... well, let me show you:

I think that sums up the sheer variety, to be honest. Then again, it would be rude not to mention that the most popular were Jesper/Milo, Darkling/Nikolai and Alina/Sun. (If you’re still confused about that last one, I take full responsibility.)

YES KAZ/KRUGE I SUPPORT!!!

Honourable mention to this:

which was a lot to take in, and:

Now for the discourse. Yep, the part you probably came for.

Actually... maybe you didn’t? Looking at all of these responses, I see a lot of people genuinely don’t care about ship wars and so on, and often enjoyed the books regardless of the romances involved. Quite a few disapproved of the ongoing (though small) wars between Darklina and Malina, and others had a similar line of thinking, saying we should maybe stop focusing so much on it. You guys are right. I know this is a ship survey, and the conclusions should not include that shipping isn’t as important as we make it (Yes it should), but... that’s where it’s at.

And then again, a lot of you guys expressed disapproval for Darkling/Alina, discussing how it is often one-sided and manipulative and overall unhealthy, so I could be completely off with that last one. Some people mentioned that they ship this but as a slightly different version that the one given to us, recognising the flaws of the canon ship.

Someone said they headcanon Tolya as aroace (OMG YES!!). We need more aroace characters, so thank you for that headcanon :) We also have a few gay ships mentioned here, and one person telling us they love Malina. Yes, you’re right - it’s pretty unpopular, it turns out. Someone else said Alina should’ve been single, and I agree, actually!

One person rickrolled me here. Thankfully, Youtube’s ads saved me. *wipes forehead*

I leave you all with this, in the end:

Notes from the Survey

Statistics Stuff:

The top ships were taken from AO3, so some ships may be more focused on in other books and may not provide accurate statistics for an earlier series.

The main circles this was sent around may have had bias as most people are from the same discord server, which has debated these topics in the past. Hence certain ships may have lower-than-average results. In future, this could be improved upon by sending this to other servers and areas of the fandom.

Personal bias may be present in the analysis, though I have tried to minimise this in the more formal sections.

Observations and Notes from Me:

You guys really don’t like Darklina. Or you love it. Usually one or the other. Wow.

Be glad I didn’t talk about any of the cursed ships in this. The things I have seen... (:cowboi_eyes:)

I thought more people would rickroll me, ngl.

What Surprised You Guys:

Kaz/Inej/Jesper

A few of you guys saw some of those cursed ships, and that surprised you. Well, me too!

Nikolai ships being in the TV Show section at all, what with his character not being in the show (yeah what was up with that huh tztz)

Inej/Alina

The existence of The Severed Moon

Darkling/Nikolai(/Alina)

How fun the quiz was :D

Things You Sent Me:

Bee Movie copypasta

“Nobody expects The Spanish Inquisition!”, except via an AO3 link

A fun fact about enzymes! I liked this one

Fic recs for Feriku and Sarai (esp for Wylan/Jesper shippers)

Another rickroll

Nice compliments :) aww you guys

I asked everyone for some kind of placeholder name and never used it. Sorry! But hey, anonymity, right?

Closing Statements

If you got this far (I feel like ive been sitting here for hours), thanks for reading! This was fun to do and I hope you enjoyed all of this too! The survey is still open for anyone who hasn’t done it but wants to. If I get a huge amount of new responses, I might update this post! But for now, adios!

-mod emily (and mod fritz)

#grishaverse #fandom #shipping #shadow and bone #six of crows #nikolai series #king of scars #the grisha trilogy

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littledrummeraussie · 4 years

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Hello and congratulations on 1k. I have a 🍭 request. I'm not sure if you have done a subspace, you probably have. I've read so many of your smuts, they are all *chef kiss*! But if you haven't, I would love for you to write a subspace one, because there is just not enough of those and I've read all of them, lol. And I just love hard dom! Ash and everything. Thanks for reading.

2. this is a bit of a mix between 😍 and 🍭, but could you maybe do something with how dom!ashton would take care of his sub when they’re really deep in sub space 🥺 like rambling/babbling on about how much they love him and being super clingy to him and being incredibly cuddly? tysm and ilysm, congratulations on 1k, I cant stress to you enough how much I adore your writing and how much I look forward to your posts! love you!!!!

3. Dom!ash and aftercare??

Thank you sweetie so much! ❤️ I hope you will like this one! I’m a bit unsure as subspace can be a really delicate thing, but I tried my best! I also got two other similar prompts so I’m just including them as well!

- - - - -

warnings: dom!Ashton. sub!femreader. spanking. the smallest little bit of anal mention. consensual sex between two people loving each other. praises. subspace. aftercare.

- - - - -

The hands holding you up on all fours slipped on the sheets, making you fall forward as Ashton’s palm came down on your ass once again, the sound of skin on skin echoing around the room. His other arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled your ass back against him, your nipples dragging against the fabric as he moved you the way he wanted to. You’ve lost count of his spanks, the orgasms he denied, the amount of time your body was ready for you to use your safe word, yet your mind made you push through just so you can hold on a little longer. You wanted this. You needed this. You craved the sweet torture your boyfriend was putting you through because you knew that at the end he will reward you for being his good girl. He will take care of all your needs and desires – you just had to hold on a little bit longer.

Ashton kept you in place, his strong hands curling around your hips and leaving bruises as he pulled his cock out of you, teasing the tip against your clit and entrance, lightly tapping it against your other hole, almost like a fleeting thought of what he could do to you in this state. You rubbed your face against the sheets to dry your tears, still trying to catch your breath after your latest ruined orgasm. Everything was hazy around the edges, like you couldn’t see your surroundings clearly, like the noises around you were fading to a muffled echo, like every touch on your skin was ice and fire, making you shiver, making you tremble, making you float.

You felt a hand stroke up your back, fingers lightly curling around the back of your neck, a thumb rubbing the top of your spine before brushing through your hair, loving and soothing. A sound left your lips, maybe a purr or breathy moan, or maybe a high-pitched scream, you weren’t sure. His voice was warm and caring, like a balm to your soul, like honey on a cold winter night – it could make you fall to pieces; it could build you up, just so he can pick you apart the next time, an endless circle of love and torture.

”Breathe, beautiful,” he curled a lock of hair around his finger, brushing it away from your forehead. ”You’re being so good to me. So perfect.”

”Sir–” your voice was scratchy, maybe from your begging, or screaming, or maybe when he made you suck his cock – maybe all of them. Your fists curled into the sheets, letting go of them as he rubbed your back and hair, grabbing them again as you’ve tried to stay present just for a few more moments, just until he gave you permission.

Ashton knew every little sign, every shiver and tremble, every movement, every bitten lips and furrowed eyebrows, every flicker of pain and pleasure flashing across your face, every tiny sound – he knew them better than the back of his hand. You were on the verge of subspace for so long, and he’s been keeping you on the edge as long as he could. The way you trusted him with your mind, body and soul made his heart beat quicker, made his head dizzy, made him love you beyond words. He was ready to give you everything – you wanted the stars? He will get you the stars, all of them, and put them up all over the living room so they were shining only for you.

”Shh, baby, you’re almost there,” his palms settled on your shoulders, sliding to your hips as he pushed his cock back inside you, giving you shallow thrusts until he found the perfect pace, one that made your toes curl and your whole body shake. ”You can let go. Wanna let go for me, sweet thing?”

You weren’t sure if your pleas left your mouth or if you only wanted to say them, if you only wanted to beg Ashton to let you finally come after everything he has put you through, or if you really did beg him in the end. One minute your body was shaking, pleasure running through every inch from head to toe, throat hurting from the sounds spilling out of you, and then – floating.

His body covered yours with his own, skin warm and sweaty as he curled around your back, prying the sheets out of your grip and instead tangling his fingers together with yours. His lips peppered small kisses all over your shoulder from the tip to the base of your neck, nuzzling the soft skin where your shared necklace rested around your throat, a reminder that you belonged to each other. Ashton’s fingers ran through your hair, lightly pulling your head back to kiss your temple, breathing his words against your skin.

”Hey baby, I’m here. I’m right here.”

A mumble left your lips, and he chuckled, whispering ”of course” before wrapping his arms around you, shifting both of you until he could lie back against the pillows, your body cradled against his chest, head tucked under his chin. Your fingers curled around his shoulder without you meaning to do so, trying to hold onto him as much as you could – feeling light like a feather was everything you’ve craved, but nothing could beat the comfort your lover gave you whenever he was close. Ashton hummed above you, finger drawing patterns on your back and waist, small hearts and suns and words of love, knowing this was the only way to let you know how he felt. You murmured something against his skin, and he shook his head lightly, pressing another kiss on your forehead, fingers brushing locks of hair behind your ear.

”Don’t rush, love. Take your time. I’m always happy to wait for you,” and as you made another sound Ashton continued. ”Of course not, beautiful. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be – just with you.”

Tears slipped down your face and you felt him brush them away, keeping up his quiet words and small talk as you slowly started to feel less fuzzy, picking up noises and shapes, colours and smells and taste, the feeling coming back to your fingertips as you curled them around the medal hanging from Ashton’s neck. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you up over him, palms cupping your jaw as your eyes finally focused on him, and you lightly knocked your forehead to his.

”There you are,” his voice was a caress, full of love and adoration. ”How are you feeling, love?”

”Loved,” you whispered, pressing a small kiss against the side of his nose before brushing your lips together. ”Cared for. Yours.”

”You still seem a little drowsy,” Ashton smiled at you, thumbs running over your cheeks. ”Do you want to cuddle and rest some more, or should we take a shower?”

”Cuddles sound good,” you sighed happily, burrowing your face into his neck as you let your weight rest against his body, and Ashton tugged on the blankets until he could wrap them around you.

”Sleep a little more, baby,” he cradled your head against his chest, fingers lightly tangling into your necklace at the back of your neck. ”I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”

You mumbled a series of love confessions against his skin, most of them not making too much sense, but they made Ashton’s heart beat quickly against your ear. The light thumping sound slowly made you fall asleep, and Ashton closed his eyes for a second, grateful for a love so special and wonderful, so his, so yours.

- - - - -

taglist.

@mymindwide @loveroflrh @notinthesameguey @babylonashton @talkfastromance4 @dead-and-golden @fuckyeah5sostakemehome @karajaynetoday @ashtondaddy90 @myfavfanficsever @myloverboyash @suchalonelysunflower @castaway-cashton @rebelwith0utacause @spicycal @cxddlyash @devilatmydoor @sadistmichael @sexgodashton

#ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin smut #dom!ashton #ashton irwin blurb #fiction time #littledrummeraussie 1k celebration #1K fic #asks: fiction edition #afic: 1K celebration

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blueskrugs · 4 years

Text

5 Times You Posted about Him, and One Time He Posted about You | Chris Kreider

I sent an anon to @kreiderrider way back at the end of April for Chris’ birthday and still haven’t stopped thinking about it, so apparently I’m writing it now. also for @bobohtuzzo for our never-ending loop of being mean to each other with Chris gifs.

TL;DR: this is Taylor’s fault for making me a Kreider girl, and and both hers Bayan’s fault for encouraging and enabling me.

length: 2.8k words

You knew when you started dating Chris that he was not social media’s biggest fan. And that was fine. You were hardly an influencer yourself, and you were pretty sure you followed more dogs than people on Instagram. So the pictures you took of Chris– Chris being cute, Chris doing mundane things, Chris with his bitchface on– stayed firmly in a locked album on your phone.

Until one day when you were sitting on the couch, leaning against Chris while he read a book, flipping through Instagram stories on your phone. One of your friends from high school had posted a cute picture with her boyfriend, and you paused to look at it. Chris rested his chin on your shoulder to peer at your phone.

“They’re cute,” he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to your shoulder. You hummed in agreement. “How come you never post about me?”

You twisted around to look at him. “First of all, how do you even know that I don’t? Second of all, you want nothing to do with any sort of social media.”

Chris flicked your nose. “Mika tells me things. And I don’t hate social media, I just don’t really get the point of it. Who the fuck cares what I’m doing every second of the day, who I got lunch with, where I got lunch? Anyway, I don’t really mind if you post about me every once in a while. I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide our relationship just because I avoid Instagram like the plague.” Chris pressed a kiss to your forehead to punctuate his sentence.

You settled back in against Chris, resuming your mindless scrolling, and looking forward to the first opportunity to show off your boyfriend.

Chef Chris Chris loved to cook. Part of it came from his absolutely ridiculous diet, you knew, but he also enjoyed the quiet time that cooking gave him, a way to be productive without requiring a ton of energy. The kitchens in either of your apartments were often filled with the smell of something good, for lunches, for dinners on nights off, for a quick meal after a game. Chris rarely let you help him with anything, which was fine because you preferred to bake, and it let you watch him.

There was something about watching Chris cook that you just adored. He would always end up so focused, a strange intensity in his eyes that resembled the look he sometimes got on the ice. But then you would say something– a stupid joke that you’d seen on the internet, a funny story from work, or a something ridiculous your dog had done that morning– and he would laugh, his eyes lighting up again, and his dimples showing.

Tonight, Chris was standing over the stove making a risotto. You had begged him for it during a rare full weekend off at home for the Rangers, and he had finally conceded. One of your playlists was playing softly in the living room, and you were perched on a barstool at the island, your dog curled beneath your feet. You weren’t sure if he wanted to be close to you, or if he was just waiting for Chris to give him a piece of chicken.

Chris was stirring the risotto intently, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth a little bit. You were already scrolling through your phone, so you couldn’t resist snapping a quick picture for your Instagram story, simply throwing an emoji of a chef in the corner.

You were checking the views on your story later that night and responding to the few people that had replied to it, when Chris saw your phone screen.

“Hang on, gimme that,” he said, pausing the hockey game he was watching. “How did I not notice you take this?” He looked closer at your phone. “And how many fucking followers do you have, holy shit.”

You took your phone back, seeing that Brett Howden had asked why he didn’t get any dinner. “I got a bunch more after I started dating you,” you said. Chris looked concerned. “Don’t make that face, you dork. I don’t really care, and if I did, I could just make my account private.”

Chris still looked a little alarmed at the number of people who had seen him cook dinner, but he turned back to the hockey game, anyway.

Sing Us a Song There was a piano in Chris’ apartment. It was tucked away in the spare bedroom, and he avoided playing it when people were over, even when it was just the two of you. You had lamented that fact once, and Chris had said something about just wanting to spend all his time focused on you. You let it go, but that didn’t mean you weren’t dying to hear him play, especially since everyone who had could only compliment him.

It was nearly Christmas when you let yourself into Chris’ apartment with your spare key. The two of you had spent an entire weekend decorating, and the space was absolutely filled with Christmas spirit. You had been baking cookies, and you were dropping some off for Chris to bring home to Massachusetts and his family. You smiled as you heard the familiar chords of “Celebrate Me Home” echoing through the apartment. Your penchant for listening to Christmas music at all hours was beginning to rub off on Chris finally. You paused, though, when you realized that the voice drifting through the apartment was not Kenny Loggins, but Chris.

You set the cookies and your purse down gently on a counter, kicking off your snow boots and quietly making your way through the apartment. You peered around the doorway of the spare bedroom. Chris’ back was to you, since the piano faced the windows looking out over the city, as he continued singing. You slipped your phone out of your coat pocket and began recording. You made sure to keep quiet as Chris began playing “The Christmas Song.” You stayed there for a minute longer before putting your phone away and walking into the room.

Chris jumped a little as you put your hand on his shoulder. “Your hands are freezing, Christ, Y/N. How long have you been here?”

You kissed his temple. “Sorry. Just came to drop off cookies and couldn’t resist listening to you for a while. I wish you’d sing for me more often.” Chris blushed all the way up to his ears.

Later that night, back home and with a pie in the oven this time, you edited the videos you took a little bit and put them up on your Instagram story. You left it captionless.

Your DMs were soon filled with people commenting on how talented Chris was and begging for more videos of him. You screenshotted them all– maybe a little smugly– and sent them to Chris. All you got back was an emoji sticking its tongue out at you.

Somewhere on a Beach There was absolutely nothing that you loved more than a good vacation. As the Rangers’ bye week approached, Chris was getting desperate to get out of the city, and you were looking forward to a week on a beach.

The Rangers won their last game before the break, and then the two of you were on a plane to Hawaii for some valuable time in the sun. Chris had found a rental with a private stretch of beach, and you both had bags full of books to read.

“Chris, you need to put on sunscreen!” you yelled as he walked across the sand, sunglasses perched on his nose and book in hand, on the first day. He had complained but let you cover him in sunscreen; he got burnt anyway.

Mika made a crispy potato joke later that night in response to Chris’ whiny text.

You got a couple good Instagram posts out of the vacation. One was simply pictures of you that you had made Chris take– “like a good Instagram boyfriend, babe” – plus a couple well-executed timer shots of both of you on the beach: sandy toes, sunburnt nose. The other was a small collection of photos you took of Chris throughout the week, in various positions in various chairs, all with a different book. Your favorite was the time you had caught him asleep on the beach, book still clutched precariously in his hand, mouth hanging open as he burned in the sun. I will never understand how he can read a book a day and still never run out of books, you had typed as a caption.

Dog Lover Chris was sick. You were sure he had been fighting through shit for nearly two weeks but had been too stubborn to admit it, and he had finally hit a wall. You had caught him leaning heavily against the bathroom sink that morning, dizzy and nauseous, as he attempted to get ready for practice; it still took both you and Mika yelling at him, with more than one threat to call Quinn and/or his mother, before he agreed to stay home.

You had forced him to at least eat a piece of toast before you let him collapse on the couch under most of the blankets you had in your apartment. You sent Mika a picture of Chris in his fever haze, zoned out while watching the morning news.

You luckily had the day off, so you were able to stay close to your idiot boyfriend with a penchant for ignoring injury and illness. It started storming after you ate lunch, rain lashing against the windows and lightning lighting up the dark New York sky, shrouded with clouds. Chris was still slouched on one end of the couch, barely having moved all morning. You were sitting at the other end with a book, his feet in your lap and thumb idly rubbing circles on his ankle, having ignored Chris’ protests that you were going to get sick, too.

Later, when you were making dinner, you peeked into your living room to check on Chris. He had thrown most of his blankets onto the floor, and he was sprawled out on his stomach, solidly asleep. Your dog had crawled up onto the couch with him and was laying protectively over Chris’ legs. You smiled at them before reaching for your phone to take a picture.

First you sent it to Mika: “Sometimes I think he’s only dating me for my dog.” with an eye roll emoji. Mika laughed at that one.

Then you posted it on your Instagram, this time with the caption everyone knows dog cuddles are the best medicine. Your replies were flooded with get-well wishes for Chris.

Best Friends Everyone knew that Mika and Chris were pretty much inseparable, both on the ice and off of it. You and Irma had bonded over it one night, when what was supposed to be a nice double date devolved into Chris and Mika discussing the chances of various teams winning the Cup. It had only been November.

You teased the two about their codependency, but honestly it was endearing. Mika ended up over for dinner more nights than not, and you texted him more than you texted your mom. Mika sometimes crashed movie nights at Chris’ apartment, and all three of you ended up in a tangled mess of limbs and blankets before the end of the night without fail. It was completely undeniable that Chris loved Mika, so it was inevitable that you loved Mika, too.

The Rangers were having another outdoor practice in Central Park. You loved going to any practice, but the outdoor ones were especially fun to watch. It always seemed like half of New York showed up to watch, and the boys were always more energetic and idiotic than usual.

You hung around close to the boards behind one of the goals during practice. You got some good pictures of the boys warming up, including one particularly cute one of Artemi sticking his tongue out at you. As practice went on, you took more pictures as various Rangers sped past you. The best opportunity was when Chris scored a – frankly ridiculous, honestly – goal over Hank’s shoulder, set up perfectly by Mika. They slammed into the boards next to you in celebration, and you managed to snap a great angle of that smile Mika seemed to reserve specifically for Chris.

All of the WAGs and families were allowed onto the ice after practice ended. You carefully made your way over towards where Chris and Mika were lazily leaning against the boards near one of the benches, nearly running over tripping over Igor’s dog in the process when he ran in front of you, gleefully dragging a leash behind him.

Chris was facing you, but he didn’t see you approach. You, however, could see the dorky grin he had aimed at Mika from where he was slouching against the wall. As you got closer, you took out your phone and snuck one more picture of the two of them.

You couldn’t resist posting those pictures of your boys. You made sure to tag Mika, adding on the caption someone tell me how I can get a boy to look at me the way Chris and Mika look at each other.

Mika replied with an eye roll emoji and a blue heart. Irma replied with about five cry-laughing emojis. Chris just looked offended.

His Turn Chris had managed to convince you to join him for a week in Connecticut, and you had managed to convince him to let you drive up. He grumbled about it all the way out of the city.

You had your sunglasses on and your hair was loose around your shoulders. Chris’ phone was plugged into your aux, but he had turned on your own road trip playlist. (He complained about your taste in music most of the drive, too.) As you got closer to Connecticut, Chris rolled the windows down. Every once in a while, you glanced over at him, only to already find him watching you with a smile on his face, eyes crinkly and dimple showing.

You were singing the words to a Taylor Swift song at the top of your lungs, laughing as the wind ripped the words from your throat and out the window, when Chris reached over and picked up your phone. You turned to look at him.

“Eyes on the road,” he scolded, still holding your now-unlocked phone. You raised an eyebrow but turned back to the highway in front of you.

The song changed again, this time to a Queen song, and you laughed again. Chris started singing along with you, and you forgot that he had been taking a picture of you.

Later that night, long after the sun set, you got a notification that you had been tagged in a new Instagram post, by @2kreids0. You squinted at your phone screen, confused. You were sitting out on the porch under the stars, and Chris had gone in for dessert (something still stupidly healthy– “It’s the offseason, Kreider!” you had protested) only a couple minutes before.

Still frowning a little, you tapped on the notification. A picture of yourself, with the sun in your face and hair blowing out the window, laughing, eyes bright underneath your sunglasses, filled your screen. It could only have been taken by Chris in your car earlier. You looked at the Instagram handle again.

“Hey, babe?” you called as Chris stepped back outside, trying to balance two bowls and two glasses of wine. He looked up at you. “Did you make an Instagram?” Chris blushed. You looked back at the picture, this time reading the caption below it: I’ll drive anywhere with you, just to hear you sing your favorite songs.

Chris had moved to stand next to you, still blushing to the tips of his ears. “I might have.” You laughed, taking your glass of wine from Chris’ hand and pulling him down for a kiss.

“I thought you didn’t see the point?” you asked.

Chris shrugged. “I didn’t. Then you started posting pictures of me all the time, and I started to understand why people share the things they love for everyone to see.”

“You’re a sap, Kreider,” you said, all fondness. You smiled at him from behind the rim of your wine glass as he took another picture of you. “Is this what I’m like?” you asked. Chris let out a surprised laugh.

The next morning you were tagged again by Chris. You rolled your eyes. When you opened the notification, you saw the picture from the night before, but there was also a second one, one you didn’t know Chris had taken. It was of you, of course, but you were glaring at something on your phone over your coffee mug, glasses on and hair a mess. This time he had captioned it get you a girl who can do both.

“Christopher!” You were already beginning to regret showing him exactly how to work Instagram the night before. As you heard Chris laughing his way down the stairs, though, you thought that you could really get used to it, even if Chris probably had some revenge posts in store for you.

#cait writes things #chris kreider #chris kreider fic #chris kreider imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic

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