#so I’m celebrating by coming back to this

[saintobio]

blank canvas: the epilogue.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. past lovers, angst, opposites attract

tags/warnings. mentions of toxic relationships, purple hearts-ish themes, maybe some heartache

notes. 2.4k wc. i said it’ll come in a few days, but i had free time so here it issss!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

TWO YEARS LATER

Tonight was Yuki and Choso’s going-away party. 

Their decision to migrate to another side of the world was because Yuki had always talked about wanting to live abroad, and so when Choso was offered a once-in-a-lifetime job opportunity in another country, it became the perfect chance for them to make that dream a reality.

So despite your apprehensions, you couldn’t miss the chance to see Yuki one last time and accepted her invitation to the party.

The evening was alive with laughter and chatter as their families and friends gathered to celebrate their bittersweet departure. Among the crowd, you spotted some familiar faces who exchanged greetings with the couple, as well as some strangers you had never seen before.

But one person was conspicuously absent. 

It had been two years since you had seen Sukuna, and the thought of potentially running into him again filled you with a strange mix of anticipation and dread. However, deep down, you knew he wouldn’t be there. There was no chance of him ever showing up because you hadn’t heard from him since that fateful night. The apartment you once shared together now housed a new tenant, and the tattoo shop across the street had transformed into a record store. Neither Yuki, nor Choso (even Yuuji), had mentioned anything about Sukuna since then, possibly avoiding any mentions of him to you out of his request. He had simply disappeared, evaporated from existence, leaving behind nothing but a fading memory.

As you scanned the room with a forlorn smile, your thoughts were interrupted by Yuki’s cheerful voice. “Y/N! So glad you could make it! I thought you weren’t gonna come, too.”

Your first instinct was to hug her tightly. “Of course, not! You know I can’t not see you before you go.”

“Aww.” She embraced you tighter before pulling away with a sad smile. “I’m gonna miss you so much. You’re like a little sister to me.” 

Indeed, and she was the big sister you never had. Things would feel different without her here, but you supported her decisions and would always wish her the best in her future endeavors. So, despite the distance you two would soon have, you gave her a reassuring pat on the back. “We can still keep in touch. And maybe, I’ll pay you a visit there, too.” 

“Honestly, I would love that!” she enthused, “Please do, even if I have to harass Getou and Gojou about it.” 

You chuckled as she mentioned the duo’s name and spent the next few minutes with you chatting for a bit, catching up with your life, talking about your future plans. It was amazing how much can change in two years, and how some things can also stay the same. Like your friendship. And this bond that you would never find with anyone else.

For now, the night was still young, and you knew Yuki still had many more guests to accommodate, so you didn’t want to take all of her time. Eventually she did excuse herself to greet more guests, and you found yourself standing by the kitchen island, absentmindedly stirring your cocktail.

As you stood in the corner of the room, surrounded by the chatter and laughter of the party, you felt a sudden jolt run through your body as loud voices boomed across the room. They were Yuuji and Choso’s exuberant greetings cutting through the air, drawing everyone’s attention, including yours.

“Nii-san!”

“There he goes, Mr. First Lieutenant!” 

Your eyes widened as you saw the figure they were addressing with playful salute—a man in a crisp military uniform, standing tall and confident. It took you a moment to recognize him, but when you did, your heart skipped a beat.

It was Sukuna.

He looked different, transformed almost, his demeanor more composed, his smile softer yet still retaining the undeniable aura of masculinity. He looked a lot more muscular than the last you remembered. His hair, now dyed back to its natural color, was neatly trimmed. You recognized that the uniform he wore was of the Japan Self-Defense Forces, adorned with badges and insignias that spoke of his achievements. The reckless, wild look in his eyes had been replaced by something steadier, more focused.

It wasn’t just the sight of him that made your heart skip a beat—it was how different he looked. 

“That’s so cool!” Yuuji raved about his older brother’s badges, his starry eyes genuinely intrigued at the sight of Sukuna in a uniform. 

Choso, on the other hand, was pulling him in a hug in an emotional jest. “Dammit. You said you couldn’t make it!” 

“Don’t cry now,” Sukuna teased, patting the younger brother’s back. He seemed to be genuinely having fun teasing his brothers. “Had to pull some strings. I was on duty, but do ‘ya think I’d let you go without seeing you?” 

You felt a pang of nostalgia in their interaction, but also recognized the visible difference in the way your ex-boyfriend spoke to others. He was genuinely happy. He was all smiles. He was the healthiest version of himself, both physically and emotionally.

It was clear to you that Sukuna had turned his life around, and it was evident that he was doing well in his field of work. The man you once knew, who had been consumed by his reckless way of life, was now standing tall and respected as an honorable member of the military.

When you said you had never met Sukuna again in your lifetime, that was true. Because the Sukuna you knew was no longer here. It was an entirely different man, changed for the better, just not for you. 

As if sensing your gaze, Sukuna turned and your eyes mirrored each other’s surprise. For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, as if you were characters in a movie screen seeing each other for the very first time. It was as though your eyes were the camera, and he was the actor. You could say you were starstruck, your heart thumping so loud that you could hear it vibrate through your ears. 

Two freaking years, and Sukuna still had that effect on you. 

You didn’t know what to do. You found yourself at a loss, the red cup in your hand now shaking from the sudden surge of anxiety. Your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, a kaleidoscope of heavy emotions, a tornado of nostalgic bliss, leaving you feeling adrift in a sea of memories. 

You wondered if Sukuna hated having to see you here. And if so, should you leave to spare yourself—or perhaps him—from any potential discomfort?

Caught in this internal struggle, you felt paralyzed, uncertain of what to do next. But then, you saw a flicker of recognition and regret in his eyes. 

Before you could even contemplate your next move, Sukuna was already excusing himself from his brothers. Their knowing looks exchanged in silence spoke volumes, indicating they were aware of where he was headed. The realization then hit you like a wave. Sukuna, your ex-boyfriend of two years, was coming toward you, and you were suddenly faced with a decision between confronting the past or making a quick escape.

“Y/N,” he greeted with a boyish grin, his voice deeper, more controlled. The bad boy persona he used to carry was completely gone. 

“Sukuna,” you replied, struggling to keep your voice steady, a complete opposite from his confidence.

There was a moment of awkward silence before he spoke again. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” you meekly replied, clearing your throat and gesturing to his uniform, “You, too. Military suits you. I never saw that coming.”

He smiled in agreement, seemingly happy about his current appearance. You had never seen this kind of bliss from him before, like he was filled with content and a sense of self-worth. He was proud, and truth be told, you were, too. 

“It’s been a good change. It gave me structure, purpose,” he paused, taking a red cup from the kitchen island nearby, “I finally got something ‘better’ to do with my life, huh?”

You smiled softly, not missing the implication of his last statement. “I’m happy for you. Really.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” 

“Mhmm.” 

The minutes that followed were some of the most agonizing of your life, not because of Sukuna, but because of the overwhelming awkwardness that enveloped the two of you. It felt as though you had nothing else to discuss, knowing full well that delving into your shared past was a territory you could never comfortably navigate. However, Sukuna, always the more vocal one in your relationship, had finally broken the silence.

“Do you…” he began, leaving you on edge, anticipating his question, “Do you wanna get some fresh air outside?” 

Right. And with a smile, you nodded. “Sure.” 

— —

You were grateful for the opportunity to escape the stifling atmosphere of the party and find some solace in the cool night air. Both of you were at the front porch, sitting over the pavement talking about anything but your past. 

Sukuna excitedly talked about his time in the military, where you learned that he had enlisted two years ago and joined the army. After enlisting, he quickly excelled in the rigorous training required for the Special Operations Group (SOG). It didn’t surprise you that his physical prowess, sharp intellect, and determination made him a standout candidate.

“I actually completed advanced courses in counter-terrorism, reconnaissance, and combat survival,” he shared, his gaze set on the clear starry night above you. “Oh, and last month, I was deployed on a high-stake mission overseas. We extracted hostages from a conflict zone. Remember the action movies we used to watch? It was exactly like that. It was fun, thrilling.” 

You listened intently, an elbow propped on your leg as you absorbed the enthusiasm in his stories. Pride and joy swelled in your heart as you heard him talk about something he was passionate about, because it was a stark contrast to the old Sukuna who wouldn’t have shown interest in these things. And this time around, you felt like you were infatuated again, but with the new him. 

“I’m really proud of you.” Longingness dripping from your voice. “Very proud. And you’re First Lieutenant, too? Wow.” 

The compliment seemingly made him blush, a sight so rare to see that you haven’t seen it throughout your relationship. “I wanted to become a better man.” 

You felt a squeeze in your heart. You recalled the words he said that night at the parking lot, of him telling you that he had his own insecurities, too. That he knew all along that your uncertainties about him were rooting from his way of life. That he was aware that he couldn’t give you the life you deserved. 

“Y/N.” Your name rolled off his tongue in an affectionate manner. He soon rose from his seat, prompting you to follow suit, before turning to face you. “I forgot to mention.”

You swallowed hard. “Yeah?”

His smile was sweet and genuine. “I’m engaged now.”

Oh.

Of course. 

What did you expect?

His words settled in your heart like a suffocating shroud. Despite the ache in your chest, you managed a polite nod, concealing the storm of emotions swirling inside you. But you couldn’t contain it—the damn tears that pooled in your eyes. Please, not now. You turned away, hoping to shield your reaction from him.

But it was all too late. 

He was already pulling you into an embrace, the familiarity in his warmth only making you weaker inside. “You are and will always be my greatest love,” he whispered into your ear, pressing his lips against your temple, “And also my biggest regret.”

Damn it. You covered your face with your hands, feeling ashamed of the tears streaming down your cheeks. What an absurd twist of fate. You could have gone about your day without encountering him again, yet here you were, shedding tears over the same man who had broken your heart two years ago.

“When I say regret,” he continued, cupping your cheeks and smiling at you lovingly. He ran his thumb across your cheeks, wiping your tears away. “I meant regret of not being that man for you. I didn’t treat you the way you deserved, or respected your boundaries like I thought I did.” Sukuna’s charm had you holding your breath still, too enamored by his beauty under the moonlight. He used to be a man of a few words, and now he didn’t shy away from pouring out his raw emotions. “I’m sorry I was two years too late. I’m sorry I had to let you go and be with someone else. But you and I know that it’s for the best.”

You weren’t crying because you wanted to get back together with him. You weren’t crying because he had promised marriage to someone else. You were crying because it felt like he was the one who slipped through your fingers, the one that got away, the one who could have been your forever if circumstances had aligned differently. It was the regret of a lost possibility, the ache of knowing that in another universe, you and him could have shared a lifetime together, untouched by the mistakes of the past.

He had dreams of making you his wife, dreams of having your children, dreams of growing old with you.

But the old Sukuna was dead, replaced by the new Sukuna who was happy and free from love’s toxicity. You realized it was time to let go. Time to bury the past and instead celebrate the future. 

“Congratulations on the engagement,” you offered your well wishes, pulling away slightly to meet his gaze with your tear-filled eyes. “I hope she doesn’t find you a handful.”

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “No, no. I have to behave or else I’m a dead man,” he joked. “She's in the army, too.”

“Well, I’m glad you met her, Sukuna. You deserve it,” you said, your voice filled with genuine warmth as you wiped your lachrymose eyes. 

Gratitude and comfort shone in his gaze. “And I’m glad you found your peace, Y/N. You always deserved better.”

You smiled in appreciation of his words as he helped you dust off your pants. Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket, briefly taking your attention away from the current scene. “Uh, I think I need to go,” you hesitated, glancing back at the house. “But I think Yuki’s pretty busy.”

“It’s fine,” he assured. “Do you want me to call you a cab or?”

“No, it’s okay,” you replied, shooting him a grateful expression. “Satoru’s on his way to pick me up.”

He nodded, smiling. “Cool.” You were surprised when he offered his hand, a gesture to finally close whatever remained between you two. “It was nice seeing you, Y/N.”

You shook his hand and gave him a playful salute. “Likewise, First Lieutenant Ryomen Sukuna.”

As he returned to the party, immediately attacked by his friends, there was no hint of yearning or longing in him, as if the poignant exchange with his ex-girlfriend had never occurred. He was back in the scene in a fluid motion, laughing, catching up with his loved ones, telling stories about his life. No heartbreaks, no painful memories.

While as you stood there, knowing you had shared respect and love for each other, you were happy that there was a sense of closure in seeing Sukuna as the man he had become. You had both grown, both changed, and in that moment, you knew that your story, though painful, had led you two to where you needed to be. 

That your love’s canvas, once blank, now held colors to complete the portrait.

#sukuna angst #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst

[randombush3]

cool about it

alexia putellas x reader

summary: you can't find inspiration for your play

notes: this was rotting in my drafts and then i got drunk and finished it lolz

i refuse to read it back so have fun

The first time Alexia sees you, you are with your friends; sleeves rolled-up, wide smile on your face, a pool cue in your hand as you wield it like a weapon the minute one of the women beside you opens her mouth. She is drawn into observing, craving the knowledge of what you are being told; what is making you blush so furiously. She sees your mouth open, a blackhole that draws her in without mercy, and she barely survives the sound of your loud, raucous laughter

Suddenly, in the universe of football and media events and her little sister’s embarrassingly active love-life, you appear. Like a new star, burning bright, big and hot and… “You’re staring,” says Mapi with a smile. She knows not to tease, and she treads lightly. “You’ve been staring for a while.” 

“They’re speaking English.” It’s an incriminating sentence, but it would have been futile to deny Mapi’s accusation anyway. 

“I saw her at the bar. She spoke Spanish then.” 

“You’ve been stalking her.” 

Mapi nods, and holds Alexia’s drink in a silent push to get her over to the pool table. To you. “Because you’ve been staring. I was only making sure she wasn’t a psycho.” 

“Thanks,” she scoffs, but, in truth, she is grateful. 

As she saunters over (a newly regained skill, months down the line from her traumatic ACL reconstruction surgery), her confidence a believable façade, she decides that she is going to be Alexia Putellas. She is going to be cool about it, and she is going to impress you, and she is going to make you laugh so that she can hear that sound again. 

Again, again, again. 

“Yeah, sure, you can take over for Soph,” you say, nodding towards the woman who had been on the receiving end of your light prodding with the wooden stick all of friends regret allowing three-drink you to be in charge of. “So you’re spots, I’m stripes. I’ve got two left until I can pot the black, and you, er, you might be at a disadvantage here.” You rub the back of your neck as you peer at the balls on the table, almost all of them left behind by Soph’s inability to play pool. “How about we just, um–” 

“Está bien.” Alexia pretends to understand a lot more of what you said than she really does, regretting her choice to approach you in English, but she gets the jist. And, although you make her feel as though life has only just begun, she remembers her competitiveness very, very clearly. “Voy a ganar,” she scoffs. 

She holds in her celebration as you break out into a grin, immediately rising to the challenge, glad your friends have tired of the pool table so that no one can interrupt the battle you are about to commence. A battle with a very pretty woman, you must admit. 

You lose. 

You blame it on Alexia – she tells you her name as she pots three balls in a row – and try not to acknowledge the taunts from your friends at the bar, most of them having watched the entire game from afar to have something to talk about tomorrow. “You win,” comes your pitiful concession after a brutal defeat. “So, what will your prize be?” 

It’s an easy answer. 

That morning, throat hoarse from the cries that left it the night before, eyes red and tired and way too sensitive to light for you to consider drinking a drop of alcohol ever again, you wrap your arms around the warm body in the unfamiliar bed, finding the intimacy to have lived on longer than it should for a one-night-stand. Barcelona is warm and sunny, the day one to be enjoyed, and the company the best you have had in a while. 

It isn’t just that Alexia is a goddess. It isn’t the Amazonian ridges of her stomach and the firmness of her thighs, nor the softness of her hair or the deft movements of her fingers against your scarred skin. No, that is not what has, in just one evening, made you fall in love with her. (You bite your lip as you are overcome with emotion, chest filling up – with which feeling, you do not know –, heart pounding into your bones as the rhythm of your desire to be in Alexia’s life sets into the very framework of your being.) No! How could it be that? How could it be that when there is more? 

The coarseness of her determination; the slippery confidence, delicate and sharp, as though it is both the petal of a rose and the thorn that will prick you. Her humour, mistranslated at times, but always ready to make fun of idiots (most often, a specific idiot with a neck tattoo, as you come to realise). 

Personally, you believe it to be unfair that Alexia, Alexia Putellas, is simply ‘all that’. 

Getting to know each other fails to feel awkward, though you spend a lot of time waiting for the tension to appear. 

She discovers who you are, how you have moved to Barcelona for inspiration, finding that very thing lacking in dreary Leeds (the most depressing place on Earth, you could argue). She learns of your dream, although you label it as your ‘plan’: to write a play and to see it on the stage, preferably a grand theatre in the West End. Or in Stratford, where upon lies the greatest soil from which a playwright can grow. 

You show her your empty pages, devoid of black print marks. White and white, that goes on until it is clear that you have tired of pressing the ‘enter’ button as though it will ignite a story within. A story that hasn’t yet come, mind. 

“Do you think it will work?” she asks you, her accusation carrying nothing but curiosity once you see past the abrupt manner in which she interrupts your lengthy monologue about your severe case of writer’s block. 

Maybe you intend to be a little vague, for the sake of your racing heart and your delicate emotions, because you only shrug. You have already found your inspiration, not that you are going to tell her. 

Alexia is forward in the sense that she checks how temporary your presence is in her city before asking you out on a date. Your answer of ‘however long this shit takes’ is enough for her to be sure that she wants a second. A third, too. 

Then, before you know it, it has been a year. 

A year of Barcelona, a year of Spanish sun, and, excitingly, a year in which you have been cured; fingers blessed with movement and ideas and words on the tip of your tongue that run free in Alexia’s ear as you talk and talk and talk. She listens and listens and listens, and switches into the focus of your pairing when you go with her to watch her team play and play and play (why the fuck does football have so many matches?!). The final stage direction, all curling italics and sentimentality, sits at the bottom of the page. 

The end of your play. 

It is finished, it is done, and, soon after you have revised it one last time, it is sent to your producer friend with a nervous click of the ‘new email’ button and the hope that he is thankful for the times at university when you cared for him when he drank himself so silly that he barely made it to his lectures two days after the night-out. 

“It feels good,” you tell Ingrid, the girlfriend of the idiot with the neck tattoo, beaming as she inquires about your work. “I feel like I lived through it to get to this moment, you know? All that’s left to do is for him to read it and decide whether he’ll pick it up. Then, table reads and funding, of course. I’d want to direct, but, also, I’m not going to sell this one. Leasing it and taking a percentage of the royalties will make me loads more, because, Ingrid, this one is the best thing I’ve ever written.” 

There is a moment, usually, that comes after you have finished writing. A brief, sharp sort of panic, where you question your worth and your talent; you wonder if you have been lied to your whole life, and that your version of the same twenty-six letters of the alphabet, jumbled up on a white canvas as though you are (after a sleepless, usually) Picasso, is terrible. Or, worse, bad. 

Bad. Bad is so… plain. If it is just ‘bad’, you have failed as a writer. If it is not outrageous or unbelievably horrible, or, as one obviously hopes, incredible and amazing… if it is just ‘bad’, well: “Alexia, I’m terrified.” 

Alexia kisses your neck (you do not feel the finality of it, or maybe it is that you do not want to) because she knows it isn’t bad; she is more than aware that your play, your new creation, is really rather good. Brilliant, even. “Tranquila, mi amor,” she murmurs in your ear, bringing her arms to rest on your tense shoulders, a hand closing your laptop on its journey. “Le va a flipar.” 

“You think so?” 

“Sí.”

“Are you saying that because we’re together and you love me?” Your voice is small and unsure, and its teasing lilt is thrown off-kilter by the croak of your anxiety. “Or do you mean it? Please, I hope you mean it.” 

“I mean it.” She hates that she does. “Yes, of course I mean it. I love you and I am proud of you.” She hates it, she hates this, and she hates the talent your mind wields; something that is going to rip you from her grasp. It was bound to happen.

Your phone rings; soft, electronic trills dancing in the space between you and the coffee table it has been placed on. “I think that’s him,” you whisper, the volume you had intended to speak at smited by the nervous lump in your throat. Alexia nods mournfully, but you are too busy accepting the call to see.

“Let’s do this,” he says. 

…

The first frost of London comes that January. It’s unusual, the locals claim, because the city exists in its own polluted microclimate, but their statistics do not stop the layer of ice from freezing onto the windshield of your car. You are glad London feels just as cold as you do. 

Your play is beloved by the actors who speak your words, and the critics amongst your friend group, who for once, have no criticism to give. There is promise here. It is going very well. 

You drive to the theatre, ready to sit in on another rehearsal. Though your original intention had been to direct, you pawed off the role to an old school friend upon her return from Broadway. Your decision, you tell her, comes from a lack of experience in direction. You pretend to have had an epiphany: you only want to write the plays. 

In truth, this is a lie. 

Of course it is a lie. 

But how can you direct such happiness, such love and romance, if you know that the very thing that inspired each line has ceased to exist? 

Alexia feels like she has ceased to exist. 

On the outside, she seems relatively fine. She trains well, plays well, makes appearances where she should, says what you’d expect of her, hopes to make the world a better place. She walks Nala as though the Pomeranian does not whine for you to hold her leash, and she visits her mother and sister even though they continue to ask her why she did what she did. 

At night, she scrolls through social media, fingers always leading her back to you; your life; your work; your experiences that you no longer share with her. She cries, then, usually: a common occurrence nowadays. 

There is a gaping hole in her chest that has been made by her sticking her fucking foot in it. 

She has questions, naturally; each directed hatefully at herself. Why? Why, why why? Why on Earth did she tell you never to come back? Why did she blame you for leaving? 

You were always going to leave! Alexia knows that, hates that she knows that. 

You came to Barcelona because you couldn’t write, and you wrote. You wrote, you made her fall in love with you, and, when you had finished, you discarded the life you had unexpectedly built all because of some stupid, stupid play. 

A play titled–

A play. 

A… Alexia can’t even bring herself to think about it. 

No, all Alexia can think about is how insignificant she feels when you are no longer in love with her. You: sophisticated, intelligent, brilliant, adoring. Her? 

“Lex, you can’t mope if you’re the one who broke it off.” The words leave Alba’s mouth in jest but Alexia recoils as though she has been whipped by her sister’s tongue. 

“I’m trying to be cool about it,” she replies like it is the most obvious thing in the world.

It seems as though the globe has spun a full circle on its axis by the time Alba formulates her response, dumb-struck by such fucking idiocy. 

Alba hopes her sister feels like a fool – she hopes Alexia looks at herself in the mirror and… laughs, at this point. The whole thing has been ridiculous, in her opinion. 

First, her sister claims she is in love with a playwright with no plays to her name (Alba is examining the facts objectively, here, because she did quite like you); then, poof! Like a rabbit in a magician’s hat played in twisted reverse, away you go, and it somehow isn’t even your fault. 

She’d like to hate you, for her sister’s sake, but she finds herself loathing her own blood as it thins and thins until it trickles just like water. 

Okay, maybe she is being a little dramatic there, but she is still annoyed with Alexia. 

Alexia – whose existence as more-than-a-footballer is fading as she loses herself to waves of futile guilt – hates that she cannot hate you. She is plagued by emotional constipation, and though she tries to squeeze the situation for a drop of cruelty from you, she fails to discover a gram of relief.

It would have been kinder for you to have been cruel. Mercy is getting Alexia nowhere, and she would run to you if it were fast enough. Mercy is what renders her in a perpetual state of regret. Mercy is what keeps her up at night, but maybe mercy is what she likes having because it is yours and, in that way, she carries a piece of you with her. 

To confuse herself even more, to skew her mind further onto a path of unconventional self-destruction, she silently begs the mercy you have left behind to disappear so that she can learn to do without it. It’ll become a crutch and she wants it ripped from her grasp so that she can learn to walk on her own. She’s capable of that, she tells herself. 

(It probably isn’t true.)

…

Opening night. 

You’re wearing something far too nice to be comfortable, and there has been a champagne flute in your hand since the lunch held by the investors of the production company. The bubbles have served their purpose, clouding your mind with thoughts that weren’t to do with Alexia and her Alexia life and her Alexia smile and her Alexia way of making an Alexia-shaped cavity in your heart. 

It gushes quite a bit, because Alexia is strong and big and capable of damaging you to this extent. You reckon your surprise is foolish but fuck off, you’re trying your best. 

Comfortingly, not one scrap of red velvet is visible once the audience is ushered inside the theatre. 

It’s beautiful here; small, old. The perfect place to fall in love, just as you did. Or at least, experience the good part through deliciously talented actors and a stellar script (your horn has been tooted enough times for you to give it a go). 

Fear creeps up your legs as you take your seat in the front row, guarded by friends and family and proud English teachers who’d believe in you, but you take another sip and it simmers down. 

“Careful,” whispers your mum, shoulder nudging yours as you place your plastic cup (no glass in the auditorium) on the patterned carpet just as the show is about to begin. “You’ll not remember this if you don’t take a break.” 

And you’re halfway to announcing you don’t want to remember anything at all when the curtain goes up and a woman walks onto stage. 

It’s sobering. 

The audience is restlessly quiet, anticipating the brilliance they’ve been promised with an impatience that demands to be sated, but the actress takes her sweet time. 

She walks from stage left to stage right, then up and down. She’s passively searching for something. 

Someone. 

(It’s the fucking point, and you knew this would happen because you typed out these exact stage directions once upon a time. Alexia had misplaced a sock – a lucky sock, she claimed – and her passion, her desire to discover it, had weirdly morphed into a scene you could see being played out on a stage.) 

“Figure this out later,” speaks the actress with a satisfied smile, folding her arms over her chest. Finally, the audience’s breaths catch, enraptured by the vaguest cop-out of opening lines you could’ve chosen. 

They love it, though; they lean forwards in their seats as they are plucked from London and dropped into the middle of Barcelona. It’s mildly unnerving that you can’t escape the journey, clearly a member of the audience even if you don’t need to be told the story, but you land without the masses in the rows behind you. 

You land right into Alexia’s arms. 

There she is before you, in all her glory, proudly displaying the blue and red that she is so admirably dedicated to. Muscular and tanned, beautiful in the way that she always is, but shining brighter than just that. 

And you fucking hate it. 

When you imagine Alexia, you imagine her crippled and bed-ridden. Cracked knuckles come to mind, too, and she can barely speak without descending into rattling sobs that hack on and on until she somehow falls into fitful rest. 

You come prepared for absolution, expecting to see her dying just as you are, so it’s no wonder that your fists clench at her blasé declaration of “no regrets”. 

(By the way, Alexia’s not really there. You’d been stalking her Instagram and so that’s why she’s wearing her training kit, and… and you’re drunk!)

There are many things you’d like to say to her. 

Alexia had always been apprehensive of your relationship. She was closed-off to new people, and though she was certain of your importance to her, she was untrusting of much else. It happens when you’re famous; there are many wrong turns to take. And she needed to stay on the right path. 

It was impossible to pass Alexia’s test. 

For you, that is clear. Broken up with, told to leave and never come back, and begged to find someone else are not descriptors of the winner, nor she who achieved full marks. You’re a bit of a stranger to failing, but you’re trying to forget about it so that it never happens again. 

You’re breaking a sweat trying to banish her from your brain, barely registering the applause rippling through the theatre as you reach the interval. Trying to get her out of your head is like tugging at your intestines – a hand down your throat renders you dumb, and pains sears through your stomach as you are emptied and left to be a carcass.

“Is it good?” you ask your mum as you head to the bar in the foyer. 

“I wish you had let me meet her.” 

…

Alexia has never been to London outside of football before. She’s played in the north and in the south – she’s won every time – and it’s summery enough right now, but she is still a foreigner in the city. 

It’s fitting, this feeling of being lost, and it’s acceptable to feel it here because she has an excuse. Lost in Barcelona would be ridiculous. 

(But she is.) 

Why is Alexia in London when she could be in Spain? 

Well the only answer is that she has a ticket to a play in a theatre just off the West End that reminds her of someone she once loved. 

She thought it might help, seeing as she hasn’t scored a goal in four weeks with no assists to excuse the drought. Her manager gladly gave her the weekend to recharge, and she escapes matchday seven of Liga F under the guise of illness. 

While sleeping with your pillow, your t-shirt, she must have absorbed whatever the fuck you were on. By osmosis. 

That block. 

And now she has to act like she can’t read your mind. 

Her ticket, acquired last minute by a friend in high places as a massive favour, means that she has a front row seat to a damned play. She is well-prepared for the dread that wrenches her gut. 

The silence settling over her is uncomfortable and impatient, and the lights go down with a sense of impending doom. It’s a bit like being on death row, Alexia thinks. Here she gets to see the good things – a last meal of whatever she would like (you, of course that’s you) – but it is only because of her inevitable execution that this happens. 

The necklace hanging from her collarbones is a noose, the seat is a wooden box about to be kicked out from underneath her, and she needs to make her decision now: does she scream? Should she– 

She’s pulled out of her insanely dramatic spiral by a woman walking onto the stage. 

Her shoulders are hunched slightly and she has that look in her eye; that pang of hunger. 

The actress is recognisable, sure, but that is not the familiarity that strikes Alexia. 

It’s the character. 

It’s you. 

Walking from right to left, towards the back, down to the front, the actress is desperately searching for something. 

Inspiration, Alexia assumes, a smug smile briefly brushing her lips as the opening line breaks the tense silence. 

“Figure this out later,” you say. 

The actress is experienced but she has never read a script like yours before. It moved her to tears, though you claimed it was very happy. 

She lies awake at night, furiously envying those who could love like you do. 

She pities you, partly, because it’s no secret that the story of this love ended when you came here to put the show on. 

She has had to fall in love with someone – method acting, according to the director. 

It’s not quite the universe exploding and stars being born that your relationship must have been, but it’s alright and she is glad to see him in the audience. 

He’s next to a woman who does not seem to be enamoured by the beauty of the plot. 

A woman who seems absolutely fucking horrified. 

Her eyes are wide, fists clenched.

You – the real you – are watching Alexia with curiosity, more interested in her reaction to the play than the play itself. You wonder if she knows the significance of tonight; the reason you are here once more. 

In one month, the set and costumes will be packed up in boxes and taken onto the main street. 

It’s a dream come true. 

You’re here to announce the good news at the end of the show. 

…

“Alexia.” 

She tries not to turn around but she does. 

The night is cool and fresher than she’d expected the London pollution to allow, and the lamp posts are scarily looming over her as she forces herself to not run into your arms. You don’t wear a coat, although your year in Barcelona has borne a certain nostalgia for a warmer climate, but Alexia is wrapped up warm. 

“How… how are you doing?” 

You cringe at how apologetic it sounds. She broke up with you. 

There is a year that will be forever lost to love and happiness, bliss in Barcelona that was always going to be too good to be true. 

There is a year that you will never get back, but there is a breakup you must deal with. 

It’s not a brick wall, it’s a hurdle to jump over. 

Breaking up won’t be the end of your worlds. 

Knowing this, despite the weakness in her knees and the aching of her heart, Alexia lies. For your sake, she lies. 

“I’m good. It’s nice to see you.” 

You’re drowning but you’ll eventually remember how to swim. 

“You too,” you say with formulated sincerity that one day will grow naturally. “Score a goal next time you play, though.” 

#woso x reader #woso imagines #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #randombush3

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

Older!DinerOwner!Eddie x Fem!Reader

This is for my 1.6k celebration based on the prompt “make me” requested by @gri959 ❣️

Summary: You’ve been fucking your boss for almost a year now and he still won’t make it official, so you decided to take matters into your own hands. Wk: 1.5k

Warnings: Age gap(Eddie is early 40s reader is mid 20s), jealous/possessive Eddie, spanking, hair pulling, unprotected sex, breeding kink. 18+MNDI!!

You were driving Eddie absolutely insane, and you knew it too. It was like somehow your little work dress seemed even tighter tonight and the way you were walking around swinging your hips, leaning down on your hands in front of customers faces, giving them a nice little peek at your perfect tits.

It didn’t help that you were being extra flirty with the new line cook, Alex. He was your age and he honestly kind of reminded Eddie of himself when he was younger. Why would you want him when you could have the newer model? But despite his insecurity that was rearing its ugly head, Eddie knew he had you wrapped around his thick ringed finger and that you were just doing this to rile him up.

“When you’re done with this table, come talk to me.” Eddie brushes past you while you’re taking an order, leaning down to whisper in your ear. You make eye contact with him just long enough for him to see you roll your eyes as he’s walking off.

“What’s up?” You walk over to where Eddie is standing behind the counter near the register and look up at him all innocently, which you are far from.

“What’s up? You know exactly what’s up, I know what you’re doing, quit it out.” Eddie looks down at you through slanted eyes, his tone a gruff whisper.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about? I’m just doing my job.” You raise an eyebrow at him and set your lips into a mock pout.

“Drop the innocent act. You’re trying to make me jealous, just admit it.” He smirks at you and leans down further than is probably appropriate for a boss and employee, but he honestly doesn’t give a fuck, it’s his diner, he can do whatever he wants.

“Why would I be trying to make you jealous? There’s nothing going on between us, right?” You turn your head slightly, lowering your voice even more to make absolutely sure only he would hear. “It’s just physical, right? So why would you be jealous?”

“You know what?” Eddie’s jaw ticks as he exhales through his nose. “I want to talk to you in my office after we close.”

“Yeah? About what? I have plans.”

“And I don’t care. I’m your boss and I need to speak to you about something regarding your job. Now get back to work.” He walks off, not giving you time to argue further.

“Okay, what’s the deal?” You walk into Eddie’s office, pushing the door closed behind you and stand in front of his desk with your arms crossed.

“Are you serious?” Eddie scoffs, abandoning the document he was signing on his desk in favor of glaring up at you.

“Umm yeah? You told me to meet you here and you didn’t say why so I’m asking what you wanted? Pretty normal if you ask me.” You shrug and Eddie swears he can make out the faintest hint of a smirk on your lips.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t play games you know you’ll lose.” Eddie chuckles, pushing up from his chair to come around and lean against the desk in front of you. “You really thought you were being sneaky? Prancing around here like that, bending over right where I can see, flirting with my employees, did you get a new bra? I’m not blind, baby.”

“Like I said before, there’s nothing going on between us… so… why would you be jealous?” You fully smirk at him now and god he wants to wipe it off your pretty little face.

“Just admit it, you were trying to make me jealous.” Eddie returns your smirk with one of his own as he leans back on his hands and crosses his legs. He’s so hot in those black Dickies work pants and his non-slip converse. He has on his restaurant manager shirt that accentuates his toned chest and shows off his thick tattooed arms. His hair is in that low bun that you love to rip out when he goes down on you and his facial hair is just a little longer than usual. Fuck.

“Why don’t you just admit that you were jealous then?” You give him a pointed look and he exhales through his nose because he’s about at his limit with your attitude.

“You know what? Bend over the desk.” He steps to the side, patting his hand against the wood.

“Why don’t you make me?” You roll your eyes, a dry chuckle escaping your lips, and that’s his final straw. He closes the distance between you and laces his fingers through your hair, pulling your face so it’s inches from his as his glowers down at you with his honey eyed stare.

“I said bend over the fucking desk.” He says your name through gritted teeth as his grip on your hair tightens, causing you to whimper, your bratty facade already breaking. “I’m not going to ask again.”

“Fuck, okay.” He releases your hair and you whine as you walk on already semi shaky legs over to his desk, laying your top half across it, causing your dress to ride up and show off a sliver of your panties. “If you weren’t jealous you wouldn’t be all worked up like this so maybe you should just -“ your sentence is cut short when a harsh smack lands on your ass, making you yelp.

“Drop the attitude, doll.” Eddie’s hand pushes your dress up to reveal your plush asscheeks and tiny lacy underwear that barely cover anything. He pushes himself against you, his already hard cock brushing up against your barely covered pussy. His hands grip onto the globes of your ass, kneading it and shaking it in his palms. “I don’t know why you’re walking around here trying to act like this ass doesn’t belong to me, you know it does.”

“Maybe you should just get over yourself and make me your girlfriend then.” Your snarky tone earns you another spank, rougher than the last.

“What did I say about the attitude?” Both of his hands come down on your ass, his rings stinging against your skin causing you to moan. He does it again. And again. Until he starts to see faint welts from his rings and the marks of his handprints.

“This ass is mine.” One of his hands travels down to cup your pussy, thrusting the heel of his palm against your clit. “This pussy is fucking mine. Say it.”

“Admit you were jealous then.” Your voice comes out way whinier than you’d hoped, it practically sounds like you’re begging him as you subconsciously grind down against his hand. “Say you’re mine too.”

“You want me to be yours, baby, huh?” He pushes your panties to the side and runs his fingers through the slick lips of your pussy before bringing the tips of his fingers to your clit, circling it. “Tell me who owns this pussy then. Tell me and I’ll give you this dick.”

“It’s yours, Eddie, it’s all yours, m’yours.” You sound cock drunk already and he’s barely even touched you but you don’t even care. You want him so bad. You’re putty in his hands and he knows it.

“Yeah, that’s right baby girl, I fucking own you.” You hear the clanking of his belt before you feel the tip of his cock running through your folds, he collects your wetness, using his hand to jerk it along his shaft. He pushes his tip in, pulling it back out a few times before slamming into you. He starts fucking into you at a brutal pace, the desk sliding against the floor, your hips slapping together.

“Fuck, fuck yes, feels so good.” He’s so deep from this angle, practically bullying your sweet spot as your hips dig into the wood of the desk.

“Yeah, that’s right, take this fucking dick baby. This is my pussy, you’re so fucking tight, damn.” One of Eddie’s thick inked arms laces around your shoulders, pulling you up so your back is flush against his hard chest while his other finds your clit, his thumb rubbing quick circles against it.

“Oh god - fuck, fuck Eddie, I’m gonna cum.” You’re practically drooling as he plows into you from behind, he shoves his hand down your dress and into your bra, expertly finding your nipple and tweaking it between his fingers. “Shit, I’m cumming, tell me you’re mine Eddie, please, need to hear it.”

“I’m yours baby, this dick is fucking yours, pussy feels so fucking good squeezing me like that.” Eddie buries his face in the crook of your neck, placing sloppy open mouthed kisses there. “Gonna fill this pussy up, paint those pretty little walls, maybe I’ll knock you up, then everybody will really know who I belong to.”

“Yes, fucking fill me, fuck a baby into me, want it so bad.” Eddie groans, his hips still against yours as his cock twitches, ropes of his cum spilling inside you.

“Fuck, baby doll, fuck.” Eddie breathes heavily as he pulls out of you, grabbing onto your hips to flip you around. He reaches down between your legs, gathering the cum that dripped out so he can push it back inside of you. “Wouldn’t want any to go to waste, would we?”

Divider is by @strangergraphics & older!Eddie edit is by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

#Dolly’s 1.6k celebration #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #older!eddie munson #older!eddie #older!eddie x reader #older!eddie smut #Dolly writes

[undercoverpena]

fifteen hundred and one

frankie morales x f!reader | frankie masterlist

summary: he's your best friend. nothing would ever change that. except maybe a goodnight kiss.

warnings: just fluff. best friends who flirt to something. kissing. flirting. she calls frankie nemo. an: this is my submission for @janaispunk’s milestone celebration based on this moodboard and the prompt "goodnight kiss"! hugest and biggest congrats to you jana, my babe. you deserve all of this and more!

Laughing, hard. It’s all instinctive as one palm stretches out across his stomach, and the other arm hooks around you, tugging you close.

He tenses when your fingers brush over his threadbare tee, your head turning into him as you mirror him, giggling. Burying deep into the fabric, it seeps into his skin.

And all Frankie thinks is—

It’s easy with you.

Has been for years. Since you’d stumbled in as the friend of one of his friends girl-not-girl, sticking around longer than they did.

You'd glued to him, happily. Never minding, or caring. Somehow surprised at how simple it was going from ‘do you want a drink’ to resting your head on his shoulder, while the two of you absently listened to whatever bullshit Benny was saying.

Now, he looks forward to seeing you.

To late-night burger runs and early-morning coffee meets, quiz nights with the others and just the two of you movie trips.

At some point, between his tongue doubling in his head at the sight of you that night to now, he’s been resisting kissing you. Sometimes easy, sometimes it’s harder.

Tonight it’s the latter.

A hand clenched around his heart, squeezing. Beneath the moon's gentle gaze, the world slows, each laugh and comment infused with the spell of the silvery glow. It's intimate, almost sacred.

And it forces him to remind himself of the usual array of things that stop him from kissing the wit-induced smile right from your lips. The list he runs through to ensure he doesn't ruin you, in the same way, he'd almost destroyed his license, his job. Stopping himself from tasting the gloss you’ve smeared there, the one which makes street lamps reflect as the two of you walk back to his truck.

“—so even if I scratched your favourite vinyl, you’d still be friends with me?”

Opening the passenger side door, he smiles, gleams, fucking beams. “Yeah!”

He hears you mutter bullshit when he shuts it, fighting a laugh as he comes around the back before sliding in.

It’s not a far drive to yours. One he’s memorised, etched into him. Not just from tonight’s location, but all over town. From his to work, and your favourite spot to his. Able to drive, mainly on auto-pilot, not needing to concentrate too much, able to answer your wild, and ridiculous, array of “even if” questions. Each ranged from ‘if I burnt all your grass’ to, ‘hypothetically if you had a dog and I kicked it’. Each is smudged with the sound of the radio you've tuned, a station he won't admit he listens to when you're not even with him.

You don’t stop your questioning when he pulls onto your drive, parking side by side next to your car. The one he helped you haggle for three months ago now—if he thinks hard, he can still hear the sound of your squeal in gratitude in the furthest part of his ear.

“—what if I stole your last coffee filter?”

“I’m guessing I’m desperate for it too?”

“Yes,” you say, defiant but playfully. “Of course.”

“You’re telling me that if I stole your last coffee filter, you’d still be my friend?”

Killing the engine, he sighs. Shrugging. “Yeah.”

Unbuckling your belt, you throw a glare. “I don’t believe you. You’re more coffee than blood.”

Shaking his head, he rests against the headrest, the corner of his lips growing into his cheek. “Not a thing you could do that would make me ever want to not be your friend.”

Rolling your eyes, you hover your hand over the doorhandle. A part of him wants to ask you to wait, to not go just yet. A routine he thinks through at least three times a month when he sees you. Each time ending in the same cowardly way.

“Goodnight, Frank,” you say, in that same tone—one hard to read, forged in sadness but dressed up in joy—as you press your lips to his cheek.

He resists touching it like he always does. Mumbling the same scripted, “Night” he always does.

Not jolting when the door meets the frame, eyes pinned on you as you walk down your path—waiting for you to step on your porch, turn back and wave, fidget for your keys before unlocking the door and giving him another wave. Another pattern, another repetition.

Except tonight you stop.

You don’t even make it halfway down your path.

Blood pounds in his ears, something knotting inside of him. An urge, a fire lighting in his stomach. One he listens to. His hand shoves the door open, as the other undoes his belt, forcing himself to exit.

Frankie spots the glance in surprise at finding him coming around the front to join you. As though the idea he would is a shock, a surprise as he calls your name.

It’s slow, the way you spin on your heels. You pause, eyes narrowing, before widening, fighting a smile. A thing he can tell, can read. Even if you try to hide it in the night, shield it from the almost full moon and the stars which twinkle above.

“You think you’d be able to be my friend if I kissed you, Nemo?”

Leaning against the brick of your house, watching your eyes flick from his shoes back to his face.

“Finally ran out of cat names?”

“I’m branching out. I could go back to calling you Salem.”

Smirking, rolling his lips. “Still not a fish.”

Sighing, shifting your weight. “Didn’t answer my question.”

Wiping his hand with his face, hurrying his brain to think of something, anything, because he’s not sure if this is a joke. If you’re pushing him.

But the longer the silence thickens, the more time you stare at him, eyes growing wider and wider, he thinks that it might not be his heart that is the only one pounding. The only one beating in his ears, the pulse throbbing in his neck.

“Fran—”

“No,” he stammers, clearing his throat. “I–I’d be too busy.”

Lips sliding into your cheek, nervousness fading, fingers scratching the tip of your nose as he swears a shooting star soars in your eyes. “Doing what?”

“Kissing you fifteen hundred times.”

“Just fifteen hundred?”

Shrugging, chewing his tongue, he exhales—loud, nostrils flaring. “To start.”

Taking a step closer, a timid one. Enough to make a point, but not enough to close the gap entirely. Your knuckles brush his stomach, a blend between a stroke and a nudge.

“You’ve thought about this.”

A small part—one wrapped in vines of doubt, encased in pretending—warns him to clamp his mouth shut. To swallow the syllables and forms letters that make the sentence buzz in his mouth, along his teeth, and jaw.

Flicking his eyes from the floor to your face. “All the time, baby.”

He hears it, but he enjoys watching it more, the way you gasp. Low, airy, trying to bury it.

“Give me a goodnight kiss, Morales.”

He doesn’t think twice.

Brushing his lips against yours, soft, cautious, and tender, before it deepens. It makes his heart throb, double; it almost somersaults in his chest as your palm presses to his cheek, fingers sliding into his hair as one of his hands finds a home on your waist.

Then you’re smiling, almost laughing, right up against his mouth as he tastes the sugar on your lips. He feels the joy brushing against his mouth as your fingers knot into his hair.

And it unlocks him, allows you to consume him, to find himself free falling knowing he'll never land, fall or be hurt—just floating, as you tug him flush to you, a feeling so heavenly he almost wishes to pinch himself—

“Of course, you’re a good kisser,” you whisper, ghosting the words over his lips.

“Been thinking about it, have you?”

Snorting, nose nudging his, you press your mouth back to his, more searing, open-mouthed. “When I drive. At work. In the morning. At night.”

Each is punctuated with a kiss. The latter flows around his head, swirling in different shades and fonts as he groans, fingers sliding around the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. Making it a little rougher, more committed, feeling you cling to him, tugging him closer as he manoeuvres the two of you—flushing your back to the brick, his chest to yours.

A moan escapes you, tickling his lower lip as your thumb brushes along the back of his neck. Mouths parting, for a moment breathing the other, simply staring, gazing, ogling.

“Fourteen hundred and ninety-nine to go?”

Shaking his head, nose brushing yours, thumb stroking against your cheek. “This is a goodnight kiss—a necessity to begin the counter.”

“Oh,” you whisper, elongating it, adding a smirk to the end. “So, we have another fifteen hundred and then, we stop?”

Taking a deep breath, the scent of your perfume weaving into his soul. The sound of a car streets away travelling in the quiet of the night.

“Depends.” Tilting your head, waiting, confusion there. “You might unlock the next stage.”

Grinning against him, able to feel it as he runs his knuckles along your jaw.

“Or my lips fall off?”

Laughing, just like he did earlier. He smiles. “Or your lips fall off.”

#frankie morales fluff #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader fluff #francisco morales x reader fluff #frankie morales x f!reader #francisco morales x f!reader

[surielstea]

Wrapping Wounds

1k celebration request

Pairing: Bodyguard!Azriel x Princess!Reader

Summary: Azriel gets hurt and reader feels guilty, so she visits his bedroom and doesn’t plan on leaving until he’s healed.

Warnings: mention of attempted kidnapping (it’s all fluff though)

1.8k words

My bodyguard was injured. Which is a surprisingly unusual occurrence. Azriel never got hurt, so it was a shock when I opened my bedroom door this morning only to find the grand hallway vacant, void of any brooding male guarding anyone from entering my bedroom. He was always there to greet me with a slight nod of his head, his shadows bringing me a cup of coffee before I could even mutter a word.

Instead, this morning I was met with an entirely different face, one I recognized but hadn't been expecting.

"Where's Azriel?" Is the first thing I say to Cassian, an equally intimidating male.

"He's injured at the moment, I'll be guarding you today." Cassian's words were dutiful and I can't help but frown. I loved Cass, sure, but I couldn't help but wonder why Azriel was hurt.

"So he's in the medical tents still healing?" I ask, stepping from my bedroom and closing the door behind me.

"I believe he's in his bedroom, but you're not allowed—" He starts but he doesn't get to finish before I winnow out of his sight and straight into Azriel's bedroom.

It was wrong to use my abilities against Cassian who was incapable of winnowing but it wasn't as if I was breaking any rules, just visiting an injured friend.

Azriel was sitting on his bed, currently rewrapping a wound on his abdomen.

"You can't be in here," Azriel stated without even taking a glance up at me, yet he still knew. I had to hold back from rolling my eyes at his absurd comment.

"I've been in a male's bedroom before," I scoff but he and I both knew that wasn't what he was talking about. We had been toeing the line of unspoken feelings for far too long now, mere inches away from being more than just professionals but he refused to cross that line and didn't want to drag me with him either.

I gather my skirts in my hands and close the distance between us, crouching down beside him and taking over his job of dressing his own wound, replacing his calloused, scarred hands with my manicured, delicate ones.

"You're not paid enough to get stabbed on my behalf," I grumble beneath my breath, my hair falling into my face as I focus on keeping pressure on the wound.

"Is everything about money to you, princess?" He teased and I just huffed, flicking my gaze up at him in a glare. He mirrors it with a quirk of his lip.

"Nevertheless, I'm making my brother give you a raise," I claim, looking back down to the gauze in my hands, deciding to look into his hazel eyes was too much to bear if I could not have them on me at all times. "Tell me what happened," I say, my words coming out more demanding than I anticipated but I was frustrated with myself for falling so damned hard for someone who was simply paid to be around me.

"So demanding," He grumbles, craning his neck to the side as if he needed to stretch, already tired from this conversation. "All you need to know is that some guys were trying to, take you last night," He gritted out like it was hard for him to stomach, but I brushed it off as the pain from his wound. "And I wasn't going to let them," He finished and I frowned, keeping my eyes pinned to the wrap in my hands as I tightly secured it with a clasp.

"It doesn't hurt too much, does it?" I say, looking up at him. He reaches towards me, his large calloused hand coming to my jaw and then pushing a lock of my hair away from my face.

"It's sweet that you're worried about me, but I’m kind of paid to be your bodyguard." He looks down at me with a stoic expression, a hint of devotion wandering behind his gaze.

“You don’t have to remind me,” I mumble, looking away from his gaze and down to his wound, the one that’s my fault. "If I was there, I would've offered myself rather than see you get hurt," I confess and his brows form a line, an angry frown pulling at his lips.

"Don't say that," He uttered. "No one will ever deserve you, no matter how good of a fight they put up." He claims and a comforting warmth blooms in the depths of my chest. I swallow, rising fully but still having to look up at him.

"I think you put up a pretty good fight," I shrug suggestively and he shakes his head.

"I'm protecting you because it's my job, it's just business princess." He claims and I roll my eyes and sling my arms over his shoulders, which he doesn't back away from.

"Nuh-uh, admit it, you like me," I taunt with a smile spreading over my lips, able to read him like an open book as the corner of his lip twitches downward, a clear indicator that he was debating if he should say something he knew he’d later regret.

"You're technically not working right now, we wouldn't be breaking any rules," I add and he only gazes down at me with a faux pitiful look in his eyes, like a rich man too selfish to donate to my charity.

"I don't think that's how it works." He blinks ever so slowly, taking all of this moment in.

"Az," I huff, walking my fingers down his bare chest.

"Princess," He mocks my tone, catching my wrist in his hand before it could get too low. "Cassian will be in here any second," He gestures for me to step backward with a jerk of his head. I wrap my hands around the back of his neck instead, rebelling his commands and doing the exact opposite. But he didn't push me away, and he didn't complain when I slowly situated myself over his lap.

"Please," I utter, begging was foreign to me but I'd do it if it meant he'd finally just let me love him.

"Please, what?" He plays dumb and this time I do actually roll my eyes, one of my hands going into his hair.

"Please, can you just stop being my bodyguard for five seconds and be my boyfriend?" I mumble and a smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

"It's kind of a package deal," He shrugs, his eyes glinting with amusement, silently laughing at my frustration.

"My gods, just kiss me already," I sigh and a rare grin grows over his features, revealing dimples.

"Always, so demanding," He muttered while leaning in, cupping my jaw in his large hand and pulling me into him.

Our lips connect like the last two pieces of a puzzle I've been working on for years, slotting together perfectly. His other hand was slipping up the slit in my pastel dress, resting at my upper thigh, gripping it occasionally and I can't help but smile at his lips at the action.

He slips his tongue into my mouth at the first opportunity he gets, craving to taste me further than just my lips. I wrap my arms tighter around the back of my neck, attempting to press myself as close as possible, needing the proximity of his warmth more than anything else.

He winced, biting slightly at my bottom lip in silent warning and I realized I pressed against his wound.

"Sorry," I murmur as he moves away from my lips and towards my jaw, kissing a trail down it all the way to my neck.

"We should probably stop," Azriel murmured as if he wasn't the one sucking hickeys to my neck and holding me down with his hand on my thigh.

"Probably," I say, slightly breathless as I recover from the pain of him pulling away from my lips. "I don't want to go," I sigh. "I'm safe in here with you, I don't need any other bodyguard," I explain and he smiles against my neck at my words, kissing the area softly.

A knock on the door makes me jump but he barely flinched, pulling away from my neck and looking at where he had been sucking, admiring the forming mark like an artist staring at their canvas.

"I have an idea, hide behind the door." He gestures to the door and I nod with a cheeky grin, scrambling off his lap and to where he told me to go.

"Az, you in there?" Cassian's voice was heard through the door.

Instead of replying, Azriel simply swung the door open with a tired smile. From my position, I could still see Azriel, but I was out of Cassian's line of sight— unless, of course, he decided to enter the room.

"Is the Princess in here?" I can hear the slight panic in Cassian's voice but Azriel doesn't falter when he replies.

"You already lost her?" The male scoffed, slightly amused.

"It's not my fault, she saw I wasn't you and winnowed away. I figured she'd be with you." I couldn't see the male but I knew his brows were bunched. I sort of felt bad for the male, I debated telling him I was going to stay with Azriel for the rest of the day so he should go far away unless he wanted to hear some things he shouldn't, but I didn't, I let Azriel handle it.

"Calm down, she's probably at the library. This castle is crawling with guards, she's safe here," Azriel reassured and Cassian must've nodded because there was no reply.

"I'm going back to bed, no more interruptions I'm trying to heal," Azriel shooed him away.

"Right, thanks Az," Cassian murmurs then a heavy pair of footsteps recede down the hall and Azriel closes the door, turning to me.

"Having affairs with your protectee and lying to your colleagues, how many rules are you going to break today?" I tease, lifting onto the tips of my toes and twining my arms around the back of his neck.

"I can always ask him to come back," He retorts and I frown, pecking his lips so quickly he barely had time to return the action.

"You wouldn't dare give me up so easily," I claim confidently, my fingers twining into his hair. "You like me too much."

"Way too much." He leans closer, his nose brushing mine. He looks at me for a moment, admiring my features from such a short distance, but as soon as his eyes flick down to my lips he can't help but lean in, our lips pressing together and somehow he made it feel like we've been doing this for decades it was all so natural.

"I'm staying in here all day, I hope you know that," I mumble and he pulls away a fraction to meet my gaze.

"But how will I ever get my rest to heal?" He sighs dramatically and I chuckle.

"I'll tell you what, you can sleep as long as you want, you just have to cuddle with me," I offer, and a soft grin forms on his lips.

"Sounds perfect to me." He closes the distance between us once more.

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#suriels tea #acotar #fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #x reader #sarah j maas #request #azriel #acomaf #1k celebration #x you fluff #azriel fluff #acotar fluff #x reader fluff #fluff #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar au #bodyguard x princess #bodyguard au #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x you #alternate universe #cassian #high lord rhysand #acotar fanfiction #fanfiction #azriel fanfic

[turcott3]

listen here my concept on matt was being a good friend of his and you've never experimented or did really anything much with guys before so you nervously but boldly approach him and ask if you could practice giving him head and he guides you through it step by step .......... bye i had to.

21st

matt rempe x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, wine, oral sex male receiving, kissing

masterlist

-

you and matt sat distant on the long sectional long after everyone had left your 21st birthday celebration. you’d been best friends with the boy as long as you could remember so you asked if he would stay the night with you like old times.

“this wine is actually really good.” matt says breaking the silence.

“yeah it is, that’s why i bought it.” you smirk.

“now y/n, how did you buy this wine last week? just a question.

“well let’s just say the ‘how’ is cut up in my garbage right now.” you giggle, cracking a smile.

“you sneaky sneaky girl.” you points at you.

“as always.” you giggle, downing the rest of your glass. the thing about wine that differed from the other things you drank is that it makes you honest. you were barely even buzzed, but wine brought out the honesty in you.

“wow it’s so crazy, i’m 21 and i still haven’t even actually hooked up with a guy.” you scoff.

“you’re not a virgin though? i’m confused.” he adds.

“well i guess the better word would be properly. he stuck it in, nut, and then left.”

“wow.”

“did i really never tell you that?” you ask, sitting up on the couch and setting your glass on the coffee table.

“no?” he replies giggling, doing the same.

“it’s kind of embarrassing.” you reply as he gets up and sits closer to you on the couch.

“why’s it embarrassing?”

“it just is. i don’t wanna be 21 and completely unexperienced.” you say as silence rung out in your living room.

“hey matt?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“yeah.”

“can you….. teach me some….. stuff?” you asked practically in a whisper, a blush burning on your cheeks as you stared at the floor.

“teach you what?” he replies, using his fingers to guide your gaze back to his.

“i don’t know, i just-“

“yes i can y/n, i was messing with you.” he giggles.

“oh okay.” you reply, the blush burning darker.

“don’t be shy now y/n, you can trust me.” he says brushing your hair behind your shoulders.

“i know i can trust you matt, i’m just nervous.” you reply picking at the skin of your nails.

“would you feel more comfortable if we went to your room?” he asks softly, running a soft hand up your thigh. you only nod in response as the tall boy stands up in front of you.

“come here.” he mutters as you reach for him. he picks you up, your legs latching around his waist as he carries you to your bedroom. carefully, he shuts your door behind you and stops in his tracks.

“look at me pretty girl.” he says, doing as you’re told you pick your head up off his shoulder and lock eyes with him, a smile spreading across his face before locking his lips with yours gently and respectfully. you moved your hands to grab onto his face, begging to deepen the kiss. you had never imagined you’d be in this position with your lifelong best friend but at the same time it felt so familiar to you. you felt safe in his embrace and absorbed the love from his affection deeply. regretfully, he breaks apart the kiss, setting you down carefully on the bed. you sat up on your knees and looked up at the brunette who looked down on you with a soft gaze in his eyes.

“now what is it you want me to teach you exactly?” he asks, squatting down to your level, his hand placed gently on top of your hand that rested on your thigh.

“oh um, anything. i really don’t mind.” you reply shyly.

“do you feel comfortable getting undressed for me or is that not okay?” he asks.

“i think im comfortable.”

“okay just take off some layers until you want to stop, is that okay?” he asks gently and you nod, removing your shirt revealing the black lace bra you’d bought yourself for your last birthday. you notice matt also removing his shirt.

“matt you don’t have t-“

“yes i do. it’s only fair. if you’re gonna be vulnerable, so am i.”

“okay.” you reply, blushing as you shimmied out of your jean shorts, him removing his jeans and tossing them to the side.

“i think this is good.” you say, very aware of your bareness.

“okay.” he says as you look back up at him.

“do i look okay?” you ask with a gleam in your eye.

“gorgeous.” he smiles, bending over and reconnecting your lips softly for a few moments.

“okay, i’m gonna teach you how to give head, that alright?” he asks and you nod eagerly. now that you’d seen him in this light, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to see him another way, and that didn’t bother you.

slowly, he pushed the waistband of his boxers down, revealing his soft cock. at first glance he was already big and that made you nervous as to what was to come.

“give me your hand.” he asks quietly and you do so. gently, he wraps your hand around his length.

“okay, now carefully but not too carefully, jerk me off.” he says and you do so, pumping your hand slowly up and down his cock. his hand wrapped back around yours moving you a little bit faster before letting go. you keep the speed and feel the blood begin to rush to his length. he thickened in your hand quickly as he muttered and mumbled words you couldn’t make out above you.

“you’re doing so good y/n.” he says.

“you’re so big matt.” you say before looking up at him with a smirk on his face.

“give me your hand.” he requests and you do so, removing your hand from his dick and holding it up to him. slightly, he bends over and spits a puddle of saliva into your hand.

“now do that again.” he continues and you do so, working the liquid into the skin of his swollen cock.

“good girl.” he mutters, a blush creeping into your cheeks once again.

“okay, are you ready babygirl?” he asks, using two fingers to tilt your chin upward to him.

“yes.” you reply lowly.

“i’ll start easy on you, open your mouth a little bit and stick out your tongue a bit as well.” he says and you do so, earning a nod of approval from the brunette.

“now take me into your hand, and put the tip onto your tongue.” he says and you do as your told, placing his wet, pink tip onto your tongue.

“now if you want you can brush your tongue along the underside of my tip,” he says and you begin to do so, “yeah just like th- fuck, it’s so-“

“sensitive.” you smirk, taking him away from your mouth for a moment.

“yeah, that.” he replies as your put it right back wear it was.

“now you can kind of take your tongue where ever you like, you can move all the way down to the base or you can circle the tip, whatever feels comfortable to you.” he says and you act upon his words, dragging your wet, warm tongue down his shaft to the base of his cock. you moved your way back up, circling the tip just like you’d been told.

“is this okay?” he asks, holding your hair in a ponytail.

“mhm.” is all you reply as you work your tongue magic on his thick cock.

“now, if you’re ready, you’re gonna protect your teeth with your lips and start to take some of the shaft into your mouth.” he says and you do so, making an ‘o’ shape with your mouth you take some of him into your mouth, continuing to pay close attention to detail with your tongue.

“yes just like that.” he grunts as you make it just less than half way down his shaft before you begin to feel your gag reflex. quickly, you take him out of your mouth and look up at him.

“am i doing okay?”

“you are doing perfectly, is something wrong?”

“no, just don’t know how much i can take.” you sigh, avoiding a giggle,

“try to take a little more for me baby.” he asks and you nod, carefully taking him back into your mouth, pushing more of his cock in. you make it a moment further before gagging and pulling him out, spit webbing from your lips.

“god, i’m so close im sorry.” you sigh out.

“don’t apologize, here, hold onto your thumb like this, it’s shuts off your gag reflex.” he says and you copy his hand. using your free hand, you take his cock back into your mouth, your other hand gripping mercilessly onto your thumb, praying that maybe you could impress him. much to your surprise, you took him with ease, his happy trail tickling your nose as he bottomed out in your throat. you pulled him out with a pop, breathing heavily to get air back, not realizing you’d been holding your breath.

“that was so good baby, do you wanna try bobbing your head?” he asks and you do so, trying to mimic the same rhythm you used with your hand, your tongue tracing the bottom of his thick shaft.

“god you’re amazing.” he groans as his grip on your hair grows tighter, not pressuring you to move any other way. you continued this seemingly perfect routine, his moans and grunts growing closer together, his cock swelling even more. you could tell he was about to bust, as much as he didn’t want this night to end.

“oh fuck i’m gonna cum y/n.” he says lowly as you take him all the way, his warm, milky climax spurting down your throat, you pulled him out slightly, allowing him to finish on your tongue before you impressively, swallow his nut.

“you’re a fucking natural.” he scoffs, a smile spreading across his face as you wiped your lips from the mixture of saliva and cum.

“really?”

“god yes.” he says, tackling you to your bed pressing sweet kisses all over your face.

“so, can we do this again sometime?” you ask, face inches away from him.

“oh yeah? what’s our next lesson?” he replies.

“what about that, but on me?” you smirk.

“so the next one is you grading me?” he giggles.

“duh.” you reply, “or maybe we can call it the final, and we can go all the way?” you continue and he hugs you to his chest tightly.

“are you sure?”

“yes matt, i trust you. god you’re amazing.”

“i just can’t wait to show you the good sex you actually deserve. i in fact will not, stick it in, nut and then leave.” he laughs.

“well id hope not, better live up to the hype.”

“i won’t let you down.” he smirks reconnecting your lips.

“we never specified when this next ‘lesson’ was.” he sighs.

“soon. very soon.” you reply.

it was moments later that the two of you got cozy, deciding that maybe you should sleep together in the bed instead of a few feet apart on a sectional in your living room. and maybe you shouldve done this way sooner than your 21st birthday party.

#matt rempe #matt rempe smut #matt rempe imagine #matt rempe x reader #nhl #nhl imagine #new york rangers #turcs’ talk

[sunflower-lilac42]

𝗳𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹 | 𝘯𝘩13 ♔

➪ summary: in which y/n has a huge crush on nico and lets it slip during a couple of interviews or 2 interviews where y/n talked about nico and 1 interview where he spoke about her

➪ warnings: gross foods, gagging/throwing up

➪ word count: 2.4k

➪ file type: fic

➪ sunny's notes: the first ever nhl fic i posted on tumblr. this holds a special place in my heart <3 thank you for everyone who has been here from the beginning (editing this was rough)

nhl masterlist || taglist || navigation

⟹ Interview One: Jimmy Fallon - Mad Libs Theater -> reference video: mgk mad libs

“Welcome back, I’m hanging out with y/n y/l/n! Her new album is streaming everywhere, Apple Music, Spotify, you name it. Uh, y/n I want to do something fun with you and act out a dramatic scene, but first, we have to fill in the blanks. It is time for Mad Lib Theater.”

The intro of Mad Lib Theater plays and y/n readjusts herself on the seat to look at Jimmy, “Alright. So here’s how this works. I’m going to ask you for some silly words - nouns, verbs, adjectives, et cetera - and they’ll all be written onto our cue cards here, as we’re doing this. And then we’re gonna act out a dramatic Mad Libs scene. Are you ready for this?”

“Thank god I went to fourth grade.”

Jimmy laughs along with the audience and uncaps the marker, “Okay. Here we go. I want a noun that starts with a C.”

“Candle.”

“Candle’s good. Adjective.”

“Sweaty.”

“Type of bug.”

“Mosquito.”

“Animal.”

“Elephant.”

“A chain restaurant.”

“Chipotle. I used to work there.”

“Chipotle?”

“Yeah.”

Jimmy continues, “Noun.”

“Jersey.”

“Like New Jersey or a sports Jersey?”

“Oh, uh New Jersey.”

“A kitchen appliance.”

“Spatula.”

“A plural noun.”

“Buildings.”

“Sophisticated.”

“I know right.”

“Another animal.”

“A yack.”

“One of the Seven Dwarfs.”

“Dopey.” She looks into the audience and winks.

“Celebrity name.”

“Sabrina Carpenter.”

“Name me a number,”

“13.”

“Just 13, 13-”

“1386.”

“Type of profession.”

“Hockey player.”

“Hockey player? Okay.”

“Wow! Speed round. Here we go. Another plural noun.”

“Mooses?.”

“Uh, okay. Body part. Watch it.”

“Elbow.”

“Phrase that you would say if you bumped into Leonardo DiCaprio on the street.”

The audience starts yelling, lots of fans of y/n knowing how much she loves this movie as it takes her no time to come up with an answer, “Why did you let go, Jack? You should have stayed on the door. You should’ve got on the door.”

“Why did you let go, Jack? There was room for you on the door.” Y/n repeats herself for the man as he writes down her answer. 

“Another noun.” Y/n’s flustered, “You do this one.”

“Burrito.”

“Burrito, okay.”

“Type of drink.”

“Bloody Mary.”

“Another celebrity.”

“Elizabeth Olsen.”

“Verb ending in i-n-g.”

“Slaying.”

Jimmy busts out laughing, “Slaying. This is fun doing Mad Libs with you.”

“What would you shout if you sat down in a wet seat?”

“Fudge that’s wet.”

“‘Fudge that’s wet?’ I love you.”

“First concert you ever attended.”

“Madonna.”

“Wow. Madonna. You know what, that makes sense.”

“A professional athlete.”

Without any hesitation, y/n blurts out, “Nico Hischier.”

“What?”

Y/n hides her increasingly growing red cheeks, “He’s my favorite hockey player. He’s the captain of the New Jersey Devils.”

There were some hockey or Devils fans in the crowd and they let out a couple of cheers. Jimmy wiggles his eyebrows at the girl before continuing, “Another verb ending in I-N-G.”

“Blushing.”

“Yes, very good. You’re blushing right now.”

Y/n laughs, “Two words that rhyme.”

“Swiss. Kiss.”

“A long, silly word.”

“Iridocyclitis!” A man shouts from the audience.

“What?!

“Is that a disease? Is that an actual-” 

“Yeah, what is that?” 

Jimmy attempts to spell out a word. 

“Iridocyclitis. Yeah, of course. Alright, now, we’ve filled out the words for our scene. Good look to our cue card. So sorry, Roman. Are you ready to perform our scene?”

“I don’t know now.”

“Let’s go, let's do this.” 

『••✎••』

Jimmy and y/n stand on the building after coming out in superhero costumes, “Am I green?”

“No, yeah, you’re green. Yeah, you’re green. I’m red.”

“Candle girl! What are you doing here?!”

“Oh, hello, Captain Stinky.”

“Please call me by my nickname, Mr. Mosquito.”

“I’m here for the same reason you are here - to rescue the elephant stuck on the roof of this Chipotle.”

“I knew there was trouble tonight when I saw my signal in the sky- a light projected in the shape of… New Jersey.”

“Well, using our powers this rescue should be simple. I’m faster than a speeding spatula, and everything I touch turns to buildings.” Y/n says before Jimmy responds, “I have the agility of a yak. And when I get really dopey, I turn into Sabrina Carpenter.”

Y/n starts laughing, unable to control herself, “Wow. I must tell you, my back story is complicated. When I was 1386 years old, I was… I was once bitten by a hockey player.” 

She then spits out more laughter and doubles over to hold her stomach, “Oh my- Oh my god. And ever since, I’ve been able to emanate mooses from my elbow.”

“Why did you let go, Jack?” Jimmy holds his hand out before y/n places her own on his shoulder, “I know. It’s amazing, but with great power comes great burrito.” Both of the two laugh before controlling themselves and continuing the scene. 

“Your story reminds me of my own. I became a superhero after I fell into a tub of radioactive bloody Mary. But listen. We must complete this rescue. In the trapped elephant’s collar, there’s a USB drive that contains images of Elizabeth Olsen slaying.”

Y/n snorts and covers her mouth quickly before laughing, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I thought it’d be much worse.”

“And as a warning, I do have one weakness.”

“What is it?”

“Madonna.”

“That’s okay. Just remember what Professor Nico Hischier told us. He said if we’re ever in a situation like this,” Jimmy pulls out a gold button, “You press this button, and we will both immediately start blushing. Here we go.”

Y/n laughs and the two start slapping their cheeks for them to redden, “Our blushing is causing the elephant to be saved.”

She looks at Jimmy and then the cue cards and shakes her head, “Swiss kiss! We did it!”

“Yes, let’s high-five and say the secret superhero catchphrase on ‘three’. One, two, three.”

They both squint in an attempt to read the word, “Iri-dira-calaptus.”

“Dude!”

“Yeah!”

“And scene!”

The two laugh as the scene ends and Jimmy tries to get his words out, “My thanks to y/n y/l/n.”

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

⟹ Interview Two: James Corden - Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts -> reference video: sygofyg w/ ewan mcgregor and niall horan

The theme music plays as the camera cuts to James, Ewan, Niall, and y/n sitting at a table with a rotating top and a bunch of food laid on it.

“Okay. so let’s take a look at the food that we have here.” James proceeds to spin the top of the table to showcase the food, “We have a salmon smoothie. A beef tongue.”

Ewan sticks his tongue out and makes a noise causing y/n to laugh as she holds her napkin up to her face, “This is disgusting.”

“Bird saliva.” The audience yells in disgust and Niall makes a whiffing motion with his hands, “The smell just gets stronger and stronger.”

“A scorpion. Fish head. Hot sauce. “

“Is that safe to do hot sauce?” Ewan asks as he looks towards James, “We’re gonna find out.”

“And finally, bull penis.”

“Yay!” Y/n claps. 

“So here’s how this works. Ewan and I will be asking questions to Niall and y/n. Now if someone on your team chooses not to answer their question, you both will have to eat the disgusting food. Have we got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, Niall-” y/n cuts in quickly, “I’m already mad.”

“You’re up first. Niall, I am going to give you-”

Niall points to one of the foods, “Please don’t do that. My acid reflux will freak out.”

“Please don’t. Not the scorpion.”

“The salmon smoothie.” Y/n squeals. 

“Here is your question, So if you answer the question you don’t have to eat, if you don’t answer the question, you both have to have a big glug of the salmon smoothie.” Niall laughs, “I don’t know what I’m more nervous about, the question or the smoothie.”

“Well, I’ve just seen the question and I think it might be the question. Niall, who is your least favorite member or One Direction?”

Niall swears but the bleep covers it as he goes to clink smoothies with y/n. Y/n looks at him, “I think you should drink, I am not your publicist, but I don’t know that you should.”

“I think I might just take the daily mail hit tomorrow, and throw out a crap answer. I’m trying to help y/n.” The said girl laughs and hits him, “If it’ll help you out, I’ll drink it.”

“Don’t think of your teammate, think of your life.” 

“What do you think, Niall are you going to go salmon-”

Y/n places the napkin around Niall’s neck to make a bib, “Yeah for future life, yeah, I think I will go with this.” The two pick up smoothies and drink them, well attempting to drink them. 

James hands them spoons and they both put them in their mouths. Y/n immediately gags and goes to spit it in the trash, getting some in her hair. James and Ewan immediately burst into laughter as they watched the two. 

Ewan looks at y/n, “Are you alright?”

“It is not so much the taste, it’s the texture. It's like having salmon yogurt.” James looks at y/n, “Oh and there is some in the hair to keep for later. Right, so now y/n, you will ask your question to me.”

“Oh well, well, well.”

“Which would you like me and Ewan to have?”

“Have a look at the question first.” Niall leans over to help y/n, it was honestly like having a brother and sister team up against someone. 

“Oh, wow. Getting tactical.”

“Oh, he is going to eat. I know– Scorpion.” Y/n turns the table so the scorpion sits in front of the two men on the other side. 

“Scorpion. I think that is the easiest one.”

“Well, yeah, you say that until it is in your face.”

“Your question is, James, name one artist who you have turned down for carpool karaoke.” The crowd lets out a bunch of oos, “How long have you got?”

“Cheers mate,” James cheers with Ewan, and they eat the scorpions, seemingly without any problem. 

“What is y/n going to eat?”

“I think I’m going for the tongue.” 

“And it’s one each. You have to eat the whole tongue.” Y/n looks at him in disbelief and he just shakes his head, “I’m just kidding.”

“Oh, this is quite a cute one. Y/n you once said you had a favorite hockey player, Nico Hischier, is it true you might have a crush on the Swiss man?”

Y/n immediately blushes and places her head in her hands as everyone laughs, “Oh come on, this is an easy one.”

“Oh shit.” The bleep censors the word as y/n looks at the tongue, “Yes, it’s true. I do have a crush on Nico Hischier.”

The whole crowd goes wild and Niall playfully hits her on the arm, “Niall what would you like to give Ewan?”

“Ewan you’re up. Truthfully, all I’ve been thinking about is that saliva. Surely the question gets better.”

“It does. Sorry, boys.”

“Jeez, again, back to the bird saliva.”

Y/n looks at the boys, “How do they get it?” James and Ewan playfully try to mimic what they think happened.

Niall pulls out the card and y/n reads it, immediately bursting into laughter, “This is the greatest question ever.”

The Irish man looks up at Ewan with a grin on his face, “Ewan, have you ever shit your pants?”

Everyone laughs uncontrollably for at least 30 seconds, “The show is only an hour, Ewan.”

“I mean I could lie, there is only one or two people that would know.”

“I am really enjoying this.”

“Well, I guess, yeah.”

“Hang on, wait how old were you?”

“Well, I was very young at the time.”

“No, no there didn’t have any age in there, did it?” Ewan defends.

“Well, we’ve all technically shit our pants as babies.” Y/n looks at the man. 

“That is all I was referring to. I might have shit my pants in the 90s one time.”

“Ewan McGregor. Spilling it.”

“Okay, Niall I am going to give you guys.”

“Please not the hot sauce.”

“Some beef tongue, are you ready? Okay.”

“I’m going to have to eat this, aren’t I?”

“Niall, you have dated both Selena Gomez and Ellie Goulding. It is your last night on Earth, who would you rather spend it with?”

“Just it doesn’t hurt anyone.” Y/n says, “Y/n’s going ‘it doesn’t hurt anyone’.”

Niall places his arm on the girl’s chair, “I’m afraid it does, love.”

“The trouble is, it’s not really your last night so someone’s gonna be upset tomorrow.”

“Okay, I would, 'cause it’s the last night on Earth, Ellie is a big fan of Planet Earth by David Attenborough so I would sit and watch that with her, and for that reason, Ellie Goulding.”

“Y/n it is your turn, you now will ask me a question and select a food.”

“You know what, you guys seem so keen on the beef tongue, giving it to us time and time again, so we will get revenge. James, you are definitely going to eat that, so have you got your knife ready.”

“Yup.”

“Which Late Night Host do you prefer, Kimmel or Fallon?”

“That’s tricky. Oh, dear are we eating this?” The two bite into the tongue and y/n gags as she watches them. 

“That was Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts. Big thanks to Y/n Y/l/n, Niall Horan, and Ewan McGregor, we’ll be right back, everybody!”

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

⟹ Interview Three: Nico Hischier - Postgame Interview

“So Nico, I hate to ask you about this but there have been these videos floating around about y/n y/l/n talking about you, have you heard about this?”

Nico nods his head as he looks at the interviewer, “Yeah, actually I have. Jack actually showed me this video and let me tell you, that was the last thing I was expecting.”

“Everyone is dying to know after she came out and explicitly stated that she liked you, do you like her, or at least have a tiny crush on her?”

“Yeah, well you know, I haven’t actually met her so I can’t say I like her but I do think she’s cute and that’s all I’m going to say about this.”

The interviewer nods, “Thanks Nico.”

#sunny lune writes #nhl #hockey #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #nico hischier fic #nico hischier #nh13 #nico hischier x reader

[2knightt]

may u do the gang with a significant other who is in a popular band or actor? up to four preference of course. lots of love!

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ darling, can i be your favourite? ⋄ 𓍯

REQUESTED: reader’s the coolest person ever and the gang’s their biggest fan!

tags/warnings: headcanons, gn!reader, reader is a singer/popstar!reader, gang is obsessed, reader is big time famous, near the end they got shorter because my tumblr started lagging.

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ hey my love !!! seen this after i posted and knew i had to get to work 🙂‍↕️ also while i was working on this, i got a req for actor!reader..ur in luck🤭

—

johnny cade

╰┈➤ now playing. — espresso, y/n l/n

how he bagged you, the world may never know. like seriously.

YOU’RE ON THE BIG SCREEN AND YOU’RE IN THE RADIO AND YOU GO AFTER JOHNNY CADE??? everyone was shocked. lives were CHANGED.

“you’re dating who?”

“..y/n l/n?”

“in your dreams maybe???”

“fuck you?”

nobody believed him because you confessed to him over the phone when you were touring 😔! you realized you really liked johnny when you had to be away from him for so long.

so for like that period of time, it was just call after call of you two giggling back and forth.

the gang, swear to fucking god, knew he was talking to someone but they thought he was lying about who he was talking to

UNTIL YOU CAME BACK!!!!

Then they were all,

“what the fuck….”

“can i like—borrow a 20?”

“DAMN”

spoil him. take him with you. protect johnny cade with ur money or else. i find you.

but seriously, pleaseeee make sure johnny lives the life he deserves ☹️ since you’re a singer, you make a FUCK ton of money

put it to good use (spending it on johnny cade)

hey! you’re all he talks about!! HE DOESN’T STFU THAT HE’S DATING SOMEONE THAT’S FAMOUS.

“what ‘bout you, lil’ boy? you got someone?”

“hell yeah. y/n l/n.😇💯”

“..the singer?”

“damn right, ‘the singer’!”

listens to your music when he misses you!!

OH MU GOD WRITE A SONG ABOUT JOHNNY CADE PLEASEEEE AND WEAR HIS JEAN JACKRT ON STAGE PLEASEEEEEEE

i can’t stress how much he loves you

he has photos of you everywhere. and anywhere.

steals magazines you model for to promote your albums<3

dallas winston

╰┈➤ now playing — nonsense, y/n l/n.

why would you pick him.

shame on you. you have celebrities flocking to you and you pick some guy in tulsa who’s in jail every friday.

tsk tsk. whatever makes you happy!

ANYWAYS

also, never shuts the fuck up about you. like seriously, somehow, you’re always the topic of conversation.

“yeah, that’s crazy that she slashed your tires. my LOVELY Y/N would never tho. did you know they sing? you’ve probably heard of ‘em-“

MAKES YOU WEAR HIS RINGS WHEN YOU PERFORM!!! AND SOMETIMES HIS LEATHER JACKET!!! DALLAS DGAF IF IT’S DIRTY OR NOT

He needs those freaks in the crowd to know you’re HIS—not theirs just because you’re famous.

if you ever collab with a dude he’s gonna fucking lose his mind i’m not kidding

“YOU’RE GOING TO THE STUDIO WITH WHO???”

“i told you-“

“yeah, i know. lets go.”

dallas invited himself btw.

dedicate a song to him and he’s literally gonna make EVERYONE listen to it. when it comes on the radio, he’s IMMEDIATELY turning up the volume.

“looking at you got me thinkin’ nonsense.”

“that’s about me, by the way.”

“WE KNOW.”

“YOU TELL US THIS EVERY DAMN DAY”

“yeah. where’s your partner that write songs about you? huh? take that shit up with someone else.”

IN HIS ROOM HE HAS SOOO MANY POSTERS OF YOUUUUUU

cannot believe he got so lucky and bagged you

he used to pray for days like these😭😭🙏

ponyboy curtis

╰┈➤ now playing — work song, y/n l/n.

yes, i did make your song more poetic than the rest. that’s just what ponyboy is into and gets him crying.

did he get lucky? yeah. does he acknowledge that every waking moment of his life and devotes himself to making sure you never feel the burden of having to perform daily?

yeah

helps you write songs sometimes. ponyboy naturally has a poets soul so USE IT TO YOUR ADVANTAGE

GUVE HIM A FUCKING OEN AND PAPER AND HE’S WRITING A HIT SINGLE

omgomg if you credit him while at your concerts he might faint<3333

spoil him and his brothers.

his brothers are included because you see how much they’re struggling and it literally pains you to see the love of ur life get so frustrated over money

sneakily put money into darry’s wallet when he isn’t looking and ponyboy might just kiss u right then and there

it’ll take awhile for him to accept the help, but when he does—he’s so grateful to have an angel like u in his life😭😭💔💔💔

“i love you. did you know that?”

“of course i do, pony.”

“i should tell you that more often.”

uses a photo of you as a bookmark btw. it’s you in his favourite outfit you ever wore, performing the song you made for him.

ponyboy’s obsessed.

shoves ANYONE off the tv to watch you perform. he doesn’t care. and the gang lets him<3 cuz they know how much you mean to their little pony!!

not without teasing. never without teasing. ponyboy is never fucking free

“soda, it’s my turn on the tv.”

“what? you tryna watch your girlfriend?”

“…shut up.”

“look at you! what a loverboy, huh? you loveeeee her, don’t you?”

“man, just get off the tv!”

watches & listens to everything you’re in. wether it be interviews, music videos, etc—he can probably quote it. every part.

he’s so obsessed with you it’s not fucking funny

sodapop curtis

╰┈➤ now playing — that boy is mine, y/n l/n.

it couple. genuinely.

you got soda more publicity and modeling agencies have definitely hit him up LMFAO

he most definitely has modelled with you for covers :3c

BUT OTHER THAN THAT

oh u better fucking believe that the DX is always playing your music

SODA DOESNT CARE IF HE’S NOT ALLOWED TO TOUCH THE RADIO

he will. and he will be playing the song you made about him to remind the girls that go to flirt with him that he’s yours.

HE HAS A NECKLACE WITH YOUR INITAL ON IT AND YOU HAVE A NECKLACE WITH HIS INITAL!!1!1!1!1!1

flash it when paparazzi takes photos and he WILL put that photo in his wallet to show people when they ask about his partner.

CANT STFU EVEN IF HE FUCKING TRIED

soda makes u his whole personality

“sigh😔 y/n would’ve loved this beat..”

“SHUT UP ABOUT Y/N😒”

“NO?? I LOVE THEM!!!???”

LOVES PRACTICING UR CHOREOGRAPHY WITH YOU LMFAOOO

it’s so cute☹️☹️😔😔 soda might trip over his feet every once and awhile but he’s always laughing so hard with you when he does<3

darry curtis

╰┈➤ now playing — say yes to heaven, y/n l/n.

tries SOOOO hard to act like he doesn’t gaf that you’re singer but it’s so tough to not brag about it

the boys at work could be talking about their partners but when they go ask darry, he hides his grin and blush by looking down, running his hands through his hair.

“what ‘boutchu, kid? how’s the lover?”

“ah, y’know. they’re busy touring or in the studio.”

“eh?”

“oh—y/n l/n. they’re-“

darry cannot be stopped now. he won’t shut up about how great of a person you are, never letting the fame get to you.

ERAHHH HE STAYS UP LATE AT NIGHT TO WATCH YOUR PERFORMANCES WHEN YOU’RE AWAY!!!!!!! HE LOVES WATCHING YOU SWAY ACROSS THE STAGE!!

hehehehehe slow dance with him in the kitchen to ur unreleased songs you made about him…. 😈😈

PLEAEE HELP HIM FINANCIALLY PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

im begging you to just sit darry curtis down and try to convince him that, you giving him money to help around, isn’t an issue.

i don’t see darry moving out of the curtis house unfortunately, i think he will always view it as his parents house and it’s too sentimental.

so, don’t even bother asking him to move. but—do give him money. or sneakily pay the bills. whatever you have to do to help darry relax, please do it!!!

loves it when you sing slower/more relaxing songs

darry thinks it’s so attractive to hear your like soothing, breathy, and smooth voice.

he has a photo framed of you bowing toward the crowd below you, tightly holding the microphone that you had his name engraved in.

it’s currently beside his bed on his nightstand.

he looks at it every night before bed and every morning before work. <3

steve randle

╰┈➤ now playing — art deco, y/n l/n.

he’s feral. he’s fucking crazy about you.

“PUT ON THAT NEW Y/N SHIT‼️”

“why??”

“CAUSE I SAID SO?!1”

number one supporter. nobody comes close to him

AHHHH HE HAS A TATTOO DEDICATED TO YOU!!!! IT’S DEFINITELY A SONG LYRIC YOU WROTE ABOUT HIM IN UR HAND WRITING

when steve’s nervous he traces over it :3c

steve always finds himself, unconsciously, humming your songs while he works on cars!

i like to think his favourite colour is blue, so plsplsplspls wear blue (even if it’s a small accessory) to your concerts just so steve knows you’re always thinking about him.

he keeps little gifts, or rather the accessories you leave at his house, in a little box. he thinks they’re so cute and he will burn a building down before he lets anyone find out

two-bit mathews

╰┈➤ now playing — melting, y/n l/n.

“DID YOU KNOW I’M DATING Y/N? THE FAMOUS SINGER? YEAH, BET YOU WISH THAT WAS YOU😭😂!”

that’s every other sentence from his stupid lips!!

KNOWS EVERY LYRIC TO YOUR SONGS AND WILL SCREAM HIS FUCKING LUNGS OUT TO THEM!!!

attach a mickey charm to ur mic while you sing on stage and he’ll start foaming at the mouth..

two-bit’s all, “that’s for me.:mickey….me….me…mickey….”

he literally begs you to sing him to sleep

STEALS YOUR RECORDS/VINYLS???!!! HE HANGS THEM UP ON HIS WALL WITH SUCH CARE IT’S SO ADORABLE ☹️☹️

teach his little sister some of your dance moves and he might marry you tbh.

two-bit dreams of you and i’m so fucking serious

#2knightt #spotify links for songs you’ve written about them under their names btw #click them #or don’t #whatever #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #dallas winston x reader #johnny cade x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #darry curtis x reader #steve randle x reader #two-bit x reader #two-bit mathews x reader

[padfootagain]

Only an Almost (XVII)

Chapter 17: Looking for Help

Hi! Here comes a new chapter!

Chapter 18 will be the beginning of things really getting better!

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

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

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 1855

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

“Well…. That… is a lot.”

“You can phrase it like that, yeah…”

“So… you’ve finally told her you loved her. At least you don’t have that to weight on your chest anymore.”

“The fact that I was still rejected after that confession kind of balances out the relief, though.”

“Yeah… you’ve got a point…”

Andrew heaved a sigh, closed his eyes as he let himself fall back fully in his chair. He hadn’t slept after that conversation with you. Or well, ‘conversation’ didn’t quite fit what had happened; it was rather a fight.

He had waited for an early but somewhat decent hour in the morning to call Sam, and ask if he could come buy. It was 8:13, and he was sipping on a black coffee, sitting at the table with him now. Daphne was taking a shower. Andrew had dropped by a bakery to get some pastries for breakfast, knowing he was depriving his friends from some well-deserved rest, but if Sam had already eaten, Andrew had not taken a single bite.

He nervously rubbed his palms, until the skin was painful and red, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“What are you going to do now?” Sam asked after a rather long silence.

But Andrew merely shrugged.

“What could I do? She doesn’t want me… All I can do is try to find a way to move on. Christ… how do you move on from that?”

“Getting awfully drunk sounds like a reasonable beginning,” Sam smiled.

“Well, perhaps, but not at 8 am,” Daphne chuckled, finally walking into the kitchen, her hair still wet from her shower.

She hugged Andrew tight.

“I’m sorry, Andy.”

“It’s alright.”

“I don’t have a clue what’s going on in her head…”

“Daphne… don’t. Please, don’t…”

She pulled away, got herself some coffee as well, before joining the two men around the wooden table.

“The way I see things… she’s freaking out. She’s freaking out and rejecting her feelings.”

“Daphne…”

“It makes no fucking sense!”

“It makes perfect sense. She doesn’t see me like that. It was just sex for her, and it wasn’t for me, and I was a damn fool. There’s nothing more to say about that.”

“There’s a lot more to say about that. The way she talked about it… she was just afraid…”

“Please…”

Andrew buried his face in his hands. He heard Sam gently shushing Daphne when she started speaking again.

“Come on, now! Tonight, we’re getting brilliantly drunk you and I!” Sam promised his friend.

“Good idea,” Andrew nodded.

A heavy silence followed.

“Andy… I know that this is not the time but… about the wedding…”

“Hmm?” Andrew finally looked up at his friends again.

“You… you’re still going to come, right?”

Andrew frowned hard.

“Of course, I’m coming. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because Y/N is my maid of honour,” Daphne let out in a breath.

“Oh… I hadn’t thought about that,” Andrew admitted.

But he quickly shook himself.

“Of course, I’ll come. I’m the best man! Don’t worry about that.”

“I… I understand that you won’t want to see her, and we can totally avoid the two of you being in the same room while we’re planning the wedding, but during the ceremony and everything…”

“Guys, don’t worry. I’m an adult, I can handle seeing my ex for a day.”

Andrew blinked and frowned.

“Technically, she’s not even my ex, we weren’t together, as she enjoyed reminding me last night…”

“You promise you’ll come, right?”

“Sam, of course, I’ll come. Don’t worry. It’s your wedding, you don’t have to worry about me and my stupid broken heart. I’ll be there, and I’ll just… behave politely towards Y/N. Nothing more, nothing less. Anyway, the wedding is in seven weeks, she’ll probably bring someone…”

The doorbell rang, and Daphne got up to answer the door, while Sam was patting Andrew’s shoulder.

He was attempting to guide the conversation back to something a little more joyful when the sound of someone crying reached the kitchen. The two men looked at each other with a frown.

“Daphne? You’re alright?” Sam called, standing in a hurry, Andrew following suit.

But it wasn’t Daphne who was crying. Sobbing, actually.

She was holding you in her arms. You were shaking with sobs, you seemed about to fall, and crumble to the ground…

Andrew felt tears rising to his eyes at the sight, but he quickly blinked them away. It was about the only movement he could summon though. He was too stunned to move another muscle, remaining frozen in his friends’ hallway.

His first reaction was to want to run to you, hold you in his arms until you would stop crying. Were you hurt? Why…? What was going on?

But then he heard your whisper…

“I’ve fucked up… Daphne, I’ve fucked up so bad… I’ve fucked up everything with Andy…”

To hear his name acted like a punch in the guts, knocking all the air out of his lungs. His brain started to properly function again, and puzzlement slowly replaced worry.

You were crying about last night?

“Andy…” Sam called as Andrew stormed through the hall to grab his coat and shoes.

You finally noticed that he was there, and remained frozen, staring at him with your puffy red eyes and cheeks stained with tears. He didn’t look at you. He couldn’t.

“Andy… Wait!”

But despite Sam’s protest, Andrew was out in the blink of an eye, hurrying out of the house and out of your life…

He didn’t stop before he had reached his car, hearing Sam run after him.

“Wait, Andy… I didn’t know she was going to drop by.”

“I know… I know… It’s alright.”

“Andrew…”

“I just… I can’t see her right now.”

“I understand. I just…”

“It’s alright, Sam. We’ll see each other tonight at the pub, okay?”

Sam reluctantly nodded, and Andrew hurried inside his car.

All he could do for now was trying to move on, move forward, always forward. He drove aimlessly around the countryside for a while, before finally going home.

Was he moving forward, or just running away?

On a scale from one to drunk, Andrew was hammered.

He reckoned that he hadn’t drunk that much since College… or no, scratch that. Since his first record. Yeah, he had had some nice party time during that period, a mix of testing his limits on the road and the buzzing excitement of a long list of first times.

Only, a few years had passed, and after that last whiskey, he wasn’t too sure if he could handle alcohol as well as he did back in the days…

Sam was laughing his arse off over something stupid, that Andrew had forgotten already, but he was giggling along anyway. The buzz of the liquor was making him dizzy, light-headed, with his cheeks on fire and his thoughts a mess.

God… it felt good to forget you for a moment.

The pub was full of life and laughter. A group had started drunkenly slurring through a few songs, but Andrew was hoping not to be recognized and asked to sing, he wasn’t in the mood. You were the only thing he could write about these days, singing reminded him of you…

It was fun, it was an easy and temporary fix to his heartbreak, but Andrew welcomed the momentary reprieve all the same.

That was until Sam became suddenly much paler than before, and pressed a hand over his mouth, choking on his laughter.

Andrew blinked, grabbed his friend’s arm and pulled him as quickly as his wobbly legs could carry him to the bathroom.

Sam had barely knelt down in an empty stall that he was throwing up.

Andrew patted his back a couple of times, waited for his friend to calm down. He sat behind him, against the wall of the tiny bathroom. He didn’t care that the ground was dirty and highly unhygienic… for now he was pressing his temple against the cool tiling on the wall to counter the spinning of his head and the growing pain in his skull.

“You’re alright in there?” he called for Sam, looking at his friend still bent over the toilet.

Sam didn’t answer, merely threw up again.

“I’ll take that as a ‘not dead yet’,” Andrew answered in a fit of stupid giggles, and closed his eyes.

A few minutes later, he heard Sam shifting near him, and he forced his eyes open again, despite his exhaustion and the pain piercing his head.

“You’re okay?”

Sam finally crawled on all fours to join Andrew next to the row of sinks.

“Yeah, better,” he nodded, stumbling to his feet to wash his mouth. “Thanks, mate.”

Andrew merely gave him a thumbs up, before closing his eyes again.

Sam sat down next to his friend then, ignoring a newcomer who had just come in.

“Damn… I don’t think I’ve been this hammered since College,” Sam mumbled, while Andrew merely hummed in agreement. “Do you remember that party by the beach? Alex was fucking out of it, and then the cops arrived! We ran so fucking fast! I thought Alex was going to piss his pants, he was in pure panic!”

Andrew laughed at the memory.

“You tripped on a root and fell like a fucking child. Hands and knees all scrapped,” Andrew added, making Sam double-over with laughter.

“And you banged your head in at least five branches! I thought you’d get a concussion!”

“The red marks on my forehead the next day!”

The two men were laughing hysterically, sitting there on the ground, ignoring anyone else who would come in and throw them amused looks.

They remained there two more minutes without being disturbed. No one was coming in anymore. It seemed as though even the sound of conversations and music from the main room of the pub had quietened.

And there you were again, your picture against his closed eyelids. First the sight of you waking up by his side in the morning. Then the memory of your skin against his. Your voice. Your smile. You turning to look at him, and beaming with this grin of yours that was brighter than any star…

A tear rolled down his cheek and into his beard before he could notice.

“Christ… Sam… I love her so fucking much…”

He vaguely heard Sam shifting next to him, and he finally opened his eyes. A row of brown doors, on the opposite wall some sinks and some mirrors, and white cold tiling all over the walls. Urinals on the other side of the room.

Instead, he could see you lying in his bedsheets, your head thrown back against his pillow…

“I love her…”

That look of mischief in your eyes as you stole some fries from his plate…

“I’ve never loved anyone else the way I love her… so fucking much…”

Sam wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulders, pulling him into a hug while Andrew’s silent tears were turning into proper cries.

“It’s going to be okay, Andy… It’s gonna be alright.”

And Andrew knew it was just some stupid fucking lie…

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier x fem!reader #hozier fanfiction #hozier fic #hozier series #hozier imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #series

[morgana-larkin]

Alright! Here it is, part smut, I meant two, part two, lol. It took longer than expected as I hit a creative block and was working a lot, as I did 26 hours on set in 2 days. Anyway, I would like to thank @esposadejoyhuerta for helping me by giving me angst free, I repeat, angst free, ideas and helped through my block. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I’m getting through Worth It as I got an idea on how to continue it as I have 3000 words for it right now. So expect it hopefully tomorrow.

Calling 911 - Part 2

Warnings: Smut, lots of fluff

Words: 2k

*one week later*

Melissa: do I need to bring anything?

You: just yourself

You…with clothes that are easily removed ;)

Melissa: how subtle

You: I never said I was subtle

Melissa: fair

“Texting y/n again?” Barb says and Melissa looks up at her from her phone.

“Maybe.” Is all Melissa says and Barb rolls her eyes.

“You guys have been messaging each other all week. When are you going out on a date?” Barb asks her and Melissa freezes.

“Well we’re going out tomorrow night.” Melissa says and Barb joins her on the couch.

Melissa’s family never celebrates Christmas on Christmas Day. Everyone always has different parties and events to go too. So instead, they always celebrate it on the 27th and Barb and Gerald joined in this time.

“Oh how fun. Where are you going on a date?” Barb asks her and Melissa blushes.

“I um, I don’t know. She won’t tell me, wants it to be a surprise.” Melissa says, not wanting to get into specifics with Barb about the date.

The next day Melissa is getting ready for the date, she decides to go for a green shirt, leggings and her black heeled boots. She curls her hair and does her makeup and then makes her way to the fire station.

When she gets there, she notices that there’s only one fire truck there and she goes and puts her hand on it, smiles and stares.

“You really do like fire trucks.” You tell her and she turns and looks at you, and her breath catches in her throat. There you are in full firefighter gear, complete with the helmet and you look stunning.

“Wow.” She says and you smile.

“Thought you might like the outfit.” You tell her and walk towards her. “I kicked everyone out for the night, they’re hanging out somewhere with 2 fire trucks.” You tell her and she tilts her head.

“You’re able to do that?”

“Well, being the chief has some advantages.” You say and she widens her eyes.

“Why are you a stripper if you’re a chief?” She asks and you smile.

“I started out as one to pay the bills while starting out as a firefighter. I do like it, I mean, I don’t have to take off all my clothes, just most of them.” You tell her and she strokes your hair. “So, want that tour now?” You ask her and she nods enthusiastically.

You give her a tour of the station and just as you expected, she’s beaming like a child at a candy store the whole time.

When you’re on the second floor, you see the fire pole and you look at Melissa. “Do you want to slide down the pole?” You ask her and she grins and nods.

“Of course I do, what kind of question is that?” She says and practically bounces over to the pole.

“Wait, you might need this, to have the real experience.” You tell her and take off your helmet. You see her smile get wider while you place the helmet on her.

She goes and slides down the pole and she looks back up at you with a big smile when she lands. “You coming down too hon?” She asks you and you nod.

“Yep!” You tell her and slide down the pole. Melissa watches you slide down and she can’t help but feel how lucky she is. She’s attracted to you, and not just because you’re a firefighter.

Once you slide down, you then get an idea. You pull your phone out, and you set it down on a table nearby and hit play on a song. The song fills the room and you start dancing with the pole and you watch as Melissa just stares at you like she did during the private dance.

You had your back on the pole, with your right hand holding it from behind and slid down the pole while looking at her. You see something in her eyes change and she starts walking towards you and puts her hands on your waist.

“Can I help you?” You ask her with a smile.

“You are wearing far too many clothes for my liking.” She tells you and reaches for the zipper of your jacket. She looks at you and you nod. She then slowly unzips and realises you’re not wearing a shirt underneath and smirks. “I see you dressed for the occasion, or should I say, not dressed.” She tells you as she takes the jacket off of you.

She sees you standing there with the pants, suspenders and a fire red bra on and she smiles. “See something you like?” You ask her and she nods. You then lean forward and kiss her for the first time, and definitely not the last time.

You both pull apart and look at each other and then go back to kissing each other. You put your hands on the back of her head and she moves hers to your back. You pull her closer to you and she ends up gasping into the kiss and you slip your tongue in her mouth.

Melissa moves her hands and slips your suspenders off your shoulders and then unzips your pants and they fall to the ground. You step out of them and Melissa pulls apart to look at your body and she smiles. She sees you standing there in matching fire red lingerie.

“The boots really bring the outfit together.” She teases you and you roll your eyes and smile. You then flip each other so she’s against the pole and you take your boots off.

You then push her up against the pole, put your hand on the pole above her head and lean in close to her face. “Now, what am I gonna do with you?” You ask her in a lower voice and she unconsciously rubs her legs together and you smile.

You go to the hem of her shirt and you look at her and she nods. You pull the shirt off of her and see her in a black lace bra and she looks spectacular.

“Wow.” You say breathy. “How did I get so lucky?” You tell her and she puts a hand on your cheek and you look at her eyes.

“I was thinking the same thing.” She tells you and you lean into her touch. You then take her leggings and heeled boots off and you see she wore matching underwear.

“Want to do it in the back of the fire truck?” You ask her and she nods immediately. You take your clothes to offer padding for the floor of the truck and you walk up to it and open it up for her.

She gets in first and you climb in after her and put the clothes down. You kiss her against the wall of the fire truck and hoist her up and she wraps her legs and arms around you. You kiss each other full of passion and desire and the need for each other right then and there. She unclips your bra and throws it somewhere and you do the same to her. She pulls back and looks at you, full of lust filled eyes and swollen lips.

“Hmm, I’m calling 911 about a fire inside of me that needs to be taken care of.” She tells you and you laugh at her joke and then nod.

“Yes miss.” You tell her. You set her gently on the clothes and climb on top of her and kiss her chest. You put a nipple in your mouth and she gasps and grabs your hair at the back of your head. You swirl your tongue around her nipple and suck on it and you pull the most amazing noises out of her. You move to the other and pull more noises out of her that you absolutely love. You know you can spend hours just pleasing her chest but she’s really turned on right now and you know she wants you inside her right now. You take her underwear after getting confirmation from her and you look at her completely bare beneath you and she looks stunning. You smile and then go back to kissing her lips. You place your hand between her legs and rub her clit. She gasp and moans beneath you and you smile into the kiss. You then pull back and kiss and suck her neck. You slip two fingers in her entrance and you pull the most amazing moan from her.

You pump in and out of her while you continue to kiss and suck her neck. “Omg y/n! Yes! Please, don’t stop!” She yells out and you place your thumb on her clit and she bucks her hips. You place your body more on her to stop her from bucking her hips so much and then pump faster inside her. You have her coming in seconds after rubbing her clit and she comes with a gasp. You don’t stop and her second orgasm is fast approaching. “Y/n! Please, it’s too much!” She yells, very breathy.

“It’s ok, just let go, I got you, take your time.” You tell her and then she comes again. You pull out of her and kiss her lips while she comes down from her high.

When she stopped shaking, she moved her hands to your underwear and slipped them off. She then quickly slipped her fingers in you and you gasped into the kiss. She quickly pumped in and out of you and she moved her other hand to your clit and began to rub it. You were gasping and moaning into the kiss until you come with a moan. She pulls out of you and you both take a minute to catch your breath.

“Wow, that was amazing.” You say through heavy breathes.

“Ya, it was.” She says, agreeing with you.

“So, did I tame your fire?” You ask her and wiggle your eyebrows and she giggles.

“You did, but I might need you on speed dial in case it needs to be taken care of again.” She tells you and you smile.

“Well in exchange, I would like to take you out on a date.” You say to her and she nods her head.

“I like the sound of that, I would love to go out on a date with you.” She says and gives you a kiss. You get up off of her and you both get dressed.

“How does in an hour sound? That’s when my shift ends.” You tell her and she smiles.

“Sounds perfect.” She tells you as you both exit the fire truck.

In an hour, your co workers return along with the 2 fire trucks and they introduce themselves to Melissa. Melissa blushes a bit at all the attention she’s getting from all the firefighters and you wrap your arm around her waist to support her and she smiles at you.

On the date, she asks you something that makes you laugh. “Maybe we should make fire burning our song? Considering it was playing when we first met.”

“We didn’t officially meet until the private dance, but I do like that song.” You tell her and she smiles at you.

Later that night, you go to her place and you push her up against a wall as you both kiss each other. You pull back and you’re both breaking heavily. “Somebody better call 9-1-1, shawty fire burning on the dance floor, woah.” You sing and she giggles.

“Hm, I’m calling 911 right now, I have a fire down below.” She jokes with you. You lift her up and she wraps her arms and legs around you. You make the fire truck noises and she laughs. You spin around to go to the bedroom as she giggles. “Woah.” She says as she wasn’t expecting you to turn around. She then kisses you with a smile as you make it to the bedroom.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

@unicorniusfallapatorius

@a-queen-and-her-throne

@sleep-deprived-athlete

@og-kxsh-420

Let me know if you want to be added!

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x oc #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti #x reader #fanfic #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #law

[oreolemur]

Y/n's Promotion

“Come on…one more drink shouldn’t hurt”, Naoya said, putting the glass of whiskey to your lips. You were reluctant to take it. “I-I probably shouldn’t”, you said. He smiled, pressuring you into drinking. “Why not? We’re celebrating your promotion of course”. Your boss was right. He wanted you to have fun. “Ok…just one more”, you gave in. You took the shot from his hands, chugging it down. “Wow…that one felt…a little stronger”, you said, making a face of disgust. The man praised you for letting loose. “See that wasn’t so bad was it?”, he grinned. The two of you chatted longer at the hotel’s bar. It was a business trip, so Naoya allowed you to take a break and relax. 

He kept ordering drinks, making you down more shots. With your tolerance being low, you felt yourself becoming drunk. Your cheeks were flushed with red as you rested your head on the table. “Are you ok?”, Naoya asked, rubbing your back. You gave him a thumbs down. He helped you out of the chair, telling you that he would help you back to your room. “Come on let's go”. You could barely stand. Naoya wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you. You gripped his shirt, trying not to fall. “Baby steps ok?”, he said, trying to get you to move your legs. You moved slowly. The hotel’s hallway was pretty long. “Which one is your room?”, the man asked. You guided him through slurred words. “I can’t understand what you’re saying, y/n”, he chuckled. Suddenly an idea popped in his head. “How about we go back to my room instead?”, he suggested. You nod, allowing him to take you to his room. 

The moment he reached the door, he opened it, purposefully dropping you onto the hard carpeted floor. “Sorry”, he said, trying to make it seem like an accident. You laid there, unable to move. “Can you…put me…on the bed?”, you asked. He picked you up, dropping you onto the mattress. You rolled over laying on your side. “I d-don’t feel so good”, you whined. You felt like you needed to throw up, but you kept it down. Naoya watched you, laughing. “You’re a funny little assistant”, he smiled. He walked over to you, taking a seat on the bed. “You know, y/n…I’ve been so proud of you lately”, he said. He grabbed your arm, turning you on your back. “You work harder than anyone else at the office”. 

You thanked him, trying your best not to be distracted by the nausea you were feeling. “Thank you, sir”, you said. “I really…appreciate it”. Naoya stared at your body, examining it. “And I appreciate you”, he smirked. “It’s not an everyday thing to have a woman ask for a promotion”. He rested his hand on your leg, slightly rubbing it. “At first I thought you didn’t deserve it, but you’ve been so good at your job I just had to give it to you”. The man kept talking. It was hard to make out what he was saying. Your head was spinning. “I’m glad you like to keep your boss happy”. His hand moved up your leg, touching your thigh. “Very happy”, he whispered. You were oblivious to him touching you. “Now that you have your promotion…I was thinking of ways you could thank me”. Naoya pulled you close to him. He reached for your belt, beginning to undo your pants.

Your eyes widened, feeling him attempting to take them off. “Wait!”, you leaned up. “W-what are you talking about?”. The man grinned. “I said I’ve been thinking of ways for you to thank me”. You got up from the bed, looking at him with a confused expression. “Thank you…I guess”, you said. You fixed your pants, telling him that you’re feeling better. “I’m feeling better now. I’ll just head back to-”, Naoya cut you off. “Sit down”, he said. You stood by the door. “I’m feeling tired. I should really-”. He cut you off again. “Sit down”. He was starting to get annoyed. “If I have to get up from this bed…I will make you regret it”. You walked over to him. He grabbed your arm, forcing you to sit on his lap. “Good girl”. You could feel his cock poking your ass. “You feel that don’t you?”, he grinned.

Naoya undid your pants again as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. “Don’t you want to keep your promotion?”, he whispered into your ear. “Yes, sir”, you replied. His hand went inside your pants, snaking his way into your panties. “Please don’t do this, sir”, you begged. He shushed you as he rubbed your clit. “Relax”, he said. The man kissed your neck, rubbing you harder. It didn’t feel good. You reached for his hand, attempting to take it out. “Stop…please”. He thrusted his fingers in you, making you gasp. “You’re so tight, y/n”. You clenched around him as you squirmed. “P-please, sir”. He chuckled in your ear, feeling you get wet. He thrusted hard, slipping another finger in. He stretched you open, seeing how much you can take. “I’ll do anything”, you cried. “Just please stop”. 

“Anything?”, he grinned, taking his hand out of your pants. Naoya pushed you, making you fall on the floor. “Take off your clothes”, he demanded. You shook your head. “C-can I do something else?”. He got up from the bed, grabbing you by the hair. “Don’t you know that women should be compliant”. He unbuckled his pants, pulling them down to let his cock spring out. Bringing your head close to it, you tried to pull away. “Open your fucking mouth”, he gritted. He pressed his tip against your lips. You kept your mouth shut, causing him to grip your hair tighter. The pain made you open your mouth as you winced. Naoya took the chance to shove his cock inside. “Dumb bitch”. He thrusted it all the way down your throat, making you gag.

He fucked your throat hard. “Suck harder!”, he shouted. You tightened your lips around him, giving him what he wanted. Naoya groaned, “Just like that”. You cried, making your mascara run. He looked down at you, smiling at how pathetic you look. “Your mouth was made for this”. The man went harder. Your drool leaked out of your mouth, making a sloppy mess on your shirt. He brought your head further down his cock, before releasing his warm liquid down your throat. The cum came rushing down, leaving you with no other choice but to swallow.

Naoya pulled your head off him. “Get on the bed”, he said. You were holding your neck, coughing up any remaining cum. “I said get your ass on the bed!”. He grabbed your neck, forcing you to stand as he pushed you towards the bed. “Now lay down”, he said. Once your body hit the mattress, he reached for your pants, taking them off. “No!”, you screamed. You kept moving around, trying to get away from him. Naoya grew upset, punching you in the stomach. “It’s your job to please me”, he said. He climbed on top of you, unbuttoning your shirt. “Please, Mr. Zenin. Don’t do this”. He ignored you, doing what he wanted. Naoya aimed his cock at your cunt, shoving his full length in. You cried louder, trying to push him away. “Please get out”, you begged. Your boss grabbed your arms, pinning them above your head. 

His cock hit your cervix, fucking your pussy roughly. You yelled for someone to help you. Naoya covered your mouth. “You really think you’re worth saving?”, he said. He grunted against your neck, licking it. “You should really learn your place. I am your boss and you are my bitch”. He laughed, hearing your muffled cries. The man lifted your leg, putting it over his shoulder. This made him go deeper. He removed his hand from your mouth, taking hold of your neck. He squeezed it tightly as he fucked you harder and harder. Your vision became blurry as you kept hearing Naoya laugh. “This is all your fault”, he grunted. “You just had to get a stupid promotion…and now…you owe me”.

#dark writing #tw noncon #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jujustsu kaisen smut #jjk naoya #naoya x reader #naoya zenin #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen naoya

[strawberry-daiquiris]

💙 drunken kiss / tipsy

For max f/oscar or nortrell pls!

DELICIOUS, love a drunken kiss. this was really fun to write because i've always done max f/oscar in quite a soft way and the max in this is significantly less nice. still reckon they'd fall in love though.

____________

“Thought you said Oscar doesn’t drink much?”

Max is having to yell over the music, standing too close to the speakers for his liking. Lando’s deep in his phone, probably dm-ing some model or a DJ, ready to ditch Max for the second time in three days. It was a mistake, coming to visit Monaco on race weekend.

Lando looks up briefly, eyes flitting to where Max is staring. Oscar Piastri, off his tits, trying to do something he suspects is supposed to be dancing.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Lando’s voice is full of glee, like Max has just pointed out Verstappen with a broken front wing, or something. “Guess he does tonight.”

Max watches as Oscar backs into someone, a girl in a short skirt who gives him a dirty look until something must click in her brain, some memory of seeing him on a poster, or a TV screen, plastering herself to his side. Max wishes he could get girls that easily, fucking F1 driver privilege.

Turns to Lando to say it, have a laugh at Oscar’s expense about his bad hair, or the sponsor t-shirt he’s wearing to a fucking Monaco VIP area, but he’s already gone, his face in the neck of some guy Max vaguely remembers meeting at Ush, once. Not a DJ, he doesn’t think, but close enough for Lando to shag him, clearly. 

When he looks back at Oscar, the girl’s got a hand on his crotch. It’s not Max’s battle really, but he still remembers when he was asked to keep an eye on Oscar, back in the academy days. Nobody ever said what they wanted him to keep an eye out for, but stopping him from doing stupid shit like getting a handy in a club would probably have been on the list.

“Fuck’s sake,” he swears under his breath as he weasels through the crowd, clapping Oscar on the shoulder. “Alright mate? Fancy some air?”

Outside, Oscar only seems drunker, swaying as he rests against the wall, head dropped. Max stands in front of him, blocking him from view in case he pisses himself or something. He’s seen worse from Theo, on nights out. 

“Celebrating the podium hard, eh?” Max says, trying to keep his voice light, not let the seething jealousy flow into his words. Deep down, there’s still something in him that believes it could be him holding the trophy, if someone would just give him a fucking try.

“’m not celebrating,” Oscar says, blinking these big eyes at him. Max always thought they looked like a koala’s, a bit menacing beneath the cute exterior. On the nose, he’s aware, but Max has never been one for metaphors. “I’m doing the opposite… sad-erbrating.”

Max snorts.

“Think Bob’s rubbing off on you if you think that’s a word, mate. Anyway, what the fuck have you got to be sad about? You got P2 at Monaco.”

Oscar levels him with a really serious look.

“I’m here ‘cos my girlfriend dumped me.”

Max startles, acid in his stomach like Oscar’s just bent him double and pummeled him there. ‘Cos that’s why Max is here in Monaco being one of Lando’s little harem, and not moving to a new place with P. Got fucking dumped, and it takes him a good few seconds to realise this isn’t Oscar playing a game with him, that he’s being serious.

That he’s heartbroken too. 

“Oh, well, same,” Max raises his glass to Oscar, who tries to focus on it like the toast is the point, and not Max’s words. “To being sad, lonely twats, eh?”

Oscar looks so distraught, Max has to try and backtrack.

”Or maybe not so lonely? You looked like you were halfway to getting your dick sucked in there, mate. Maybe you’ll get lucky and find someone to get you off, you’re not bad looking?”

Oscar’s whole face changes, brightness sparking in his eyes, and a slant to his mouth and Max thinks, for just a second, about how much better he looks happy before there’s a gentle pair of hands on his face.

It’s wet and scratchy, like when one of the cats licks him, Oscar’s fuzz of facial hair scraping the soft bit where his beard doesn’t show, and it takes him a good 30 seconds to realise he’s kissing back, failing entirely at stopping Oscar doing something stupid in public, following him to it, even.

“D’you want to go back to mine?” Oscar breathes heavily when he pulls back, and Max thanks their lucky stars he chose an empty alleyway. “I live here now, in Monaco.”

Max nods. Figures. Something else Oscar has that he should’ve had for himself.

Still, he thinks, remembering Lando and his nearly-a-DJ inside, there’s more than one way of getting what you’ve always wanted, isn’t there? And Max has never been afraid of grinding, of working for it. Might not get him an F1 seat, but somewhere to crash in Monaco that’s not Lando’s sofa? That’d be alright.

“Yeah, fine,” he shrugs “But you’re the one doing the sucking, alright?”

Max doesn’t think about the hungry way Oscar nods. That’s for later.

#GODDDDD #i love alllll versions of these two #picking them up and smashing their faces together until they realise their shared past and sarcasm means they would just WORK #thank u for this prompt!!!! #anon who asked for brittle it shakes kisses.... watch this space #piastrell or whatever #fic game #ask game #my fic

[formulauno98]

A Birthday to Remember - Part One - Toto Wolff x Reader

Originally written as an OC, inspired by an amazing request from @latte-luxe, I have rewritten this to a Reader POV, no descriptions and no use of your name. The only brief description is of a butt (you can probably guess why).

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Caution may contain spice. 🌶️🌶️🌶️

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction, no-one is married in this alt-universe.

THE MORNING

It was Saturday morning and stepping out onto your balcony at the Fairmont Monte Carlo, you swept your eyes over the spectacular view. It was a pinch yourself to check if you’re dreaming kind of view of sparkling blue waters, peppered every so often with a gleaming white yacht.

“Good morning, birthday girl.” murmured a husky, heavily accented voice from behind you. Before you even had the chance to turn around, a pair of muscular arms swooped around from behind, coming to rest on your hips, large hands gently squeezing your curves.

“Good morning to you too,” you said, turning around and leaning up to kiss your tall towel-clad Austrian companion, resting your hand on his bare chest as he pressed himself tightly against you. It was yet another pinch me I’m dreaming moment. If someone had told you this time yesterday that this was how you would be spending your Saturday morning you would have laughed and called them crazy, but sometimes life could be crazy.

THE NIGHT BEFORE

It was a sunny evening and you were standing out on the balcony with a glass of wine in your hand, gazing across the Mediterranean whilst waiting for your three best friends to get ready. As a lifelong Formula One lover, a weekend trip to Monaco had been on the cards for a while so when your friends asked where you wanted to go to celebrate your special birthday it was at the top of the list. Turning the dream into reality was another thing altogether and you still couldn’t believe that the trip had materialised. A trip had finally made it out of the group chat.

Dinner was due to be lowkey as Saturday was going to be the big night out, with dinner plans at Elsa, a Michelin-star establishment, followed by a night on the tiles at Jimmyz, a club frequented by the world of Formula One. Although you couldn’t afford to come for a race weekend, this was truly a bucket list trip and you hoped to catch a glimpse of some nice cars, the iconic track and if you were lucky maybe even a driver or two… A wild Charles Leclerc sighting in Monaco was like spotting Mickey Mouse in Disneyland.

Friday night’s restaurant of choice was Song Qi, an upscale Chinese restaurant in Larvotto that had come highly recommended. You were looking forward to seeing what made Monaco so special and couldn’t wait to hit the town.

“How long is the walk?” A voice called out from your suite.

“About five/ten minutes.” You replied, sighing, as always the mom of the group.

“Medium heels it is then,” your friend Olivia replied.

“We can always get a car,” you suggested.

“No, let’s conserve the taxi budget for tomorrow night,” Olivia said, stepping out onto the balcony to join you, “Laura and Becca are almost ready.”

“Good idea,” you replied, “You look gorgeous by the way.”

Olivia beamed with the compliment, stepping back to twirl in her pink minidress and sparkling sandals, “I try my best, although I can’t compete with you.”

You blushed, not used to the compliments. You’d chosen a simple white dress with gold sandals for the evening’s dinner, perhaps a risky move in a restaurant serving noodles but you felt fabulous. It wasn’t long before Laura and Becca also emerged, both looking as beautiful as ever. The four of you had treated yourselves to two adjoining suites and opened up the connecting door to create a mega-suite.

“Oh la la, give us a twirl,” you said, looking your elegant friend up and down as she dutifully spun around.

“Beautiful!” Now it was Laura and Becca’s turn to blush. “Ditto! Shall we get going?”

“Sounds like a plan.” you agreed, the four of you making your way off of the balcony.

——

Song Qi turned out to be an excellent choice, with the table weighed down with baskets of dim sum and bowls of noodles, crispy beef and endless wontons. The restaurant was decadent but comfortable and as you sank back into your sumptuous green velvet chair you spotted a strangely familiar face at the table across from you. He was dark-haired, handsome with chiselled features and although he was sat down, tall, as he towered above the two men he was dining with.

It took you a moment to realise that it was none other than Toto Wolff, the affable Mercedes Formula One team principal. Although you thought it was only for a moment, you must have stared for a while as he briefly met your eyes and shot you a charming smile. Smiling back like a fool, your friends whipped their heads around to see who you were smiling at, fortunately, Toto not noticing as he had returned to his plate.

“Damn girl, he’s kinda hot, in that old businessman kind of way,” said Olivia, turning back around to face you.

“Well yes…” you stuttered, “He’s also one of the team principals in Formula One.”

“Huh?” Asked your three friends blankly, not followers of the sport.

“Kind of like the equivalent of a football manager,” you explained, “Except he owns some of the team as well.”

“Fancy, well he’s pretty. You should go and talk to him.” Said Laura, all formula one facts going straight over her head.

“Oh my god, no,” you said, “I’m sure he was just being polite.”

As if on cue, Toto looked up and locked eyes with you once again, his deep brown eyes crinkling. You gulped, returning his gaze with a smile once again.

Dinner continued, with the girls chatting away as every so often you met Toto’s eyes across the crowded restaurant. He looked to be in some kind of business meeting as the two men with him were dressed smartly and looked serious while conversing with them.

It wasn’t long before dinner had been cleared and a smiling waiter emerged with a chocolate cake laden down with a sparkler and numerous candles, Olivia, Becca and Laura looking at each other mischievously before breaking into a rousing rendition of the Happy Birthday song. You felt your cheeks reddening as you realised the entire restaurant, including Toto and his business associates had joined in the song. As you blew out the candles, you once again locked eyes with Toto who was grinning away while applauding.

“You guys are the worst,” you said, half joking as you shook your head at your friends. “But that’s why I love you.”

“Aw, well we had to do something,” said Laura, “It’s not every day you have a big birthday like this and although I still don’t understand why you love your car racing so much, I’m happy that we came here.”

You smiled at your friends, appreciative of them enabling your desire to walk around the Formula One track and visit the car museum despite the fact they really weren’t interested. Just as you were musing how ironic it was that you’d even seen Toto Wolff, their waiter reappeared with a tray of drinks.

“Oh, I don’t think we ordered those,” said Olivia politely.

“Yes Madame, in fact, the gentlemen over there sent them alongside their birthday wishes.” The waiter replied.

You were floored, Toto Wolff had sent you birthday wishes. An interesting turn of events.

“Well, then that’s very nice of them,” said Olivia, as the waiter set them down, nudging you before adding, “You should go and say thank you!”

“Oh my God, yes, go!” Said Becca, egging Olivia on.

Sighing, but also buoyed by your friends’ enthusiasm, you relented, “I’m going to go but only to say thank you.”

Your three friends squealing with excitement, you took an extra sip of your drink for courage before standing up and sauntering over to where Toto and his associates sat. His interest piqued immediately as he noticed you making your way across the restaurant.

“Good evening, sorry to interrupt but I just wanted to say thank you for the drinks, it was very kind of you,” you said, a little too quickly due to nerves.

“Well, it’s not every day you celebrate a milestone like that.” Replied Toto kindly, standing up to hold out his hand to shake yours, “I’m Toto by the way, and this is Jean and Sebastian,” he gestured at the older gentlemen he was dining with.

Struck by the almost comical height difference you introduced yourself and looked up at the tall Austrian in front of you as he gripped your hand very tightly, “Nice to meet you all.”

The other gentlemen smiled politely, wishing you a happy birthday before picking their conversation back up. Toto, however, remained stood up, his eyes raking your curves. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. It’s nice to meet you too.”

Now you really were blushing, “You’re far too kind.”

“Not at all,” he said, “I hope you do not think this forward but would you like to join me for dinner one evening?”

Once again, your eyes widened, how was this man asking you out? Pulling yourself together, you knew you had to politely decline, you were here with your friends after all, “I would love to but unfortunately I’m only here until Sunday so I’m not sure if I’ll have time.”

Toto looked disappointed but pressed further, “Well then, how about a drink later this evening?”

Trying your best to stay calm, you tried to play it cool, “I’m not sure, it’s a girl's trip and I don’t want to ditch my friends, I really would love to though. Maybe can I get your number and text you once I’ve figured out their plans?”

“Understood,” replied Toto, looking down, gazing into your eyes with an unreadable expression, “It would be my pleasure, give me your phone.”

With that, you handed your phone to the tall Austrian in front of you who deftly punched in his contact. “Thank you, I’ll check in with the girls and let you know. I’ll leave you to your dinner for now but I hope to see you later,” you said with a smile.

Toto turned to glance at his dining companions who were still deep in conversation, and dropped closer down to your ear, keeping his voice low, sending a shiver down your spine, “It’s okay, I don’t think they missed me. I hope to see you later too.”

Looking up at Toto with a smile, you replied “I’m sure they did. See you, Toto.” As you turned back towards your table you glanced back over your shoulder and saw Toto’s eyes were locked on you as he returned to his seat. He was undeniably hot and as much as you always abided by the golden rule, chicks before dicks, this was special circumstances.

Sitting back down with your friends, they immediately leaned in to get the lowdown.

“What did he say? He didn’t take his eyes off of you!” said Laura excitedly.

“He just wished me a happy birthday… and asked me out,” you said blushing.

“No way!” exclaimed your three friends in unison.

“You’re going to go right?” said Olivia, looking at you in concern.

“I’m not sure, I don’t want to ditch you all for a man but equally he’s hot as fuck and it would only be for an hour or so.”

“An hour or so?” said Becca, raising her eyebrows, “I doubt this, but you should go, make it a memorable birthday!”

You looked over once again at where Toto sat, he was a striking man, pushing all of his success to one side. “What the hell, I’ll message him now. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Your friends squealed with excitement in unison.

You grabbed her phone and nervously began typing your message to Toto.

It’s all good for tonight, we’re almost done eating so I’m free whenever you are.

You could see Toto excuse himself and take out his phone, shooting a grin from across the restaurant before looking down to type a response.

Sure enough, your phone buzzed.

Perfect, so are we. Shall I meet you outside in ten minutes?

You replied excitedly, still not believing you were texting Toto Wolff of all people. 

Sounds like a plan.

——

You were nervous but excited as you saw Toto and his associates pay their bill and head off, Toto shooting you a wink as he jostled his way out of the restaurant.

Settling their own bill, your group were close behind and as you exited the restaurant, sure enough, you saw Toto standing outside waiting, leaning casually up against a column.

Bidding your friends goodbye, you made your way towards your date for the evening. “Hi,” you said somewhat awkwardly, knowing that your friends were likely watching from where they were ordering a taxi to return them to the hotel.

“Hi,” he said, glancing down fondly, “How was your dinner?”

“So good!” you said, “How was yours?”

“It was okay, my dining companions weren’t as lovely as you but I think my evening is improving,” he said with a rakish grin.

You smiled, “You’re a charmer, Toto. Where were you thinking of heading?”

“I know a place a few streets behind, it’s not so fancy but they have an excellent selection of wine if you like it?”

Knowing that you were already a little tipsy, you were grateful that he’d suggested wine, “Sounds good to me, lead the way, Mr Wolff!”

Toto whipped his head around, “I never told you my surname.”

Feeling you’d made a huge error of judgement, you stuttered, Toto’s dark eyes intimidating you before you decided the best course of action was to fess up, “Well it took me a moment but I recognised you. Guilty as charged.”

Musing quietly, Toto’s expression softened, “So you know a little about me, tell me about yourself.”

As you made your way around the twisting streets towards the bar, you filled Toto in on your background, your blossoming career and your plans for the big birthday weekend. He was an engaged listener, asking you questions and interjecting with his own anecdotes. Certainly surprising for a man of his stature.

Soon enough you arrived at your destination, Toto taking the lead and speaking with the Maitre D’ who promptly led you to a secluded table towards the back of the bar.

Settling down on the chair opposite Toto, you were suddenly much more nervous. 

“You look nervous,” Toto said, his eyes softening.

“Well, this is not how I thought my evening was going to pan out. The ruse is up in that I recognised you so I may as well tell you that we came to Monaco because I love Formula One.” you blushed furiously as your words tangled into one.

“Relax, so you know about Formula One?” he said, reaching across the table, taking your hand in his and tracing small circles with his thumb on the back of your hand.

“Well, probably not as much as you.” you laughed, breaking the tension and gazing into his eyes.

“You’d be surprised,” said Toto shrugging with a smirk. “I just got lucky.”

——

As the evening went on, you discussed everything under the sun, the wine helping you feel less awkward and forget who you were talking to. Toto was funnier than you expected and you spent half the evening giggling at his stupid remarks. He’d regaled you with stories of his travel adventures, driving mishaps and various other anecdotes, whilst you’d filled him in with tales of your own travels and some embarrassing childhood moments. You’d even bonded over your love of all things with an engine. Time had flown by and you didn’t want the evening to end.

“Ahem.” Your conversation was suddenly interrupted by a waiter, “Monsieur, Madame, I am sorry to say that we are closing in ten minutes. Can I take one last order?”

Knowing that you were well beyond tipsy, you shook your head, looking at Toto to check if he was in agreement. Looking somewhat bleary-eyed himself he shook his head as well, “Just the bill please.”

Soon enough the cheque had been settled and you found yourself once again wandering the moonlit streets of Monaco with Toto, this time your hand firmly encased in his.

“Where do you need to go?” Toto asked kindly, “I can drop you back.”

“I’m staying at the Fairmont,” you replied.

“It’s not so far, are you happy to walk?” he asked, squeezing your hand.

“Sure, it’s just up there,” you replied gesturing at the bend in the road where the hotel was perched, “As long as you can get home okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” said Toto, a dark look in his eye. “Remind me, when do you leave again?”

“Sunday afternoon,” you said sadly, wishing you were staying for longer.

“Well, you’ll have to come back next year for the Grand Prix,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

“Maybe if I rob a bank!” you said with a chuckle, “One day.”

“I don’t like to boast, but I might know someone who can get you in without having to resort to organised crime,” he said, laughing with a deep rumble.

“Oh really?” you said, turning to face Toto in the inky moonlight, “Is he nice?”

“Very,” said Toto, dropping your hand and placing his hands on either side of your waist, swaying slightly in his merry state.

Laughing, you stretched up to look Toto in the eye, “I’ll have to meet this guy, he sounds great.”

At that your lips met, Toto bending down to plant a soft kiss on your lips, the height difference making it slightly a challenge but one that neither of you seemed bothered by. As the kiss deepened, Toto began to run his hands down towards your perfectly rounded ass, squeezing gently as he found your curves.

Breaking apart for air, you glanced around, luckily there was no one in the empty street but you didn’t want to risk being caught making out in the street with a famous face and it being splashed across the tacky tabloids.

“Do you fancy a nightcap at mine?” you asked, looking up at Toto through your fluffy long lashes. As a rule, you never normally brought men back on a girls' trip but you decided tonight was a special circumstance. 

Toto’s eyes lit up, “Well, I have heard the view is nice.”

You laughed, grabbing Toto’s hand once again and leading him towards the corner entrance to your hotel. As you crossed the lobby you had a sudden panic that Olivia was in your room, and as you made it into the elevator, sent a frantic text knowing your friends would still be awake, waiting for the post-date debrief.

Red alert, I’m bringing him back, please can you vacate?

Sure enough, the replies came back instantaneously.

Oh la la of course birthday girl! 

Get it girl! 

Knew it!!!!!

Smiling as Toto rested his hand on the small of your back in the elevator, you looked up at him before he once again swooped down to catch your lips with his.

The elevator dinged before things could get too heated but it didn’t stop Toto wrapping his arm tightly around your waist as the pair of you stumbled towards your room.

“Here we are,” you said, scrambling to find your keycard in your bag before popping open the door to unveil your impressive suite. Thankfully your friends must have tidied as the detritus from getting ready for the evening was nowhere to be seen.

“Nice,” said Toto before bending down once again to continue kissing you, turning you around to face him as you closed the door. Pressing you against the wall with his leg, he continued to deepen the kiss, his hands starting to explore more of your body.

“As soon as I saw you I knew I had to have you,” he said, his lips resting against your ear, his deep Austrian accent rumbling.

You gulped, you never would have thought it but his voice roused something deep within. Your lips stretching up and finding the crevice of his neck, you replied in a low voice, “Then have me.”

Toto needed no invitation, scooping you up into his arms, he carried you over to the bed, throwing you down before leaning over and continuing to kiss you, his strong arms either side, pinning you down.

Emboldened by his eagerness, you wrapped your legs around his thick torso, pushing yourself against him, not surprised to find a growing bulge. As he ground his hips into yours, he started to explore your curves with his large hands, ghosting your breasts and waist and reaching around to caress your ass once again.

Reaching up, you started to unbutton Toto’s shirt, exposing a surprisingly muscular frame. Impatient, he leaned up and divested himself of the shirt as well as the rest of his clothes, leaving him in nothing but boxers. You couldn’t help but smile at the view that greeted you as he once again lunged down to kiss you, this time, his hands making quick work of pulling your dress off, leaving you exposed in nothing but lingerie and heels.

“You are ridiculous,” he said, his eyes hungry with desire, gazing into your eyes and gently kissing your neck.

“I could say the same about you,” you replied breathily, your back arching in pleasure as Toto kissed his way along your neck and across your collarbone.

Melting into each other’s arms, you began to grind back against his now prominent hardness, feeling yourself getting more turned on by the second.

“Toto?” you asked, gasping for air, “Will you fuck me?”

Toto’s eyes lit up, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Smiling at each other, Toto reached down to unhook your bra, releasing your pert breasts, “Fuck,” he said, lifting his head to marvel at them, “Even better than I imagined.”

You blushed at his words, not used to such attention. Growing impatient you ghosted your hands down Toto’s abs, hooking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers.

“You’re an impatient little thing aren’t you?” he said, leaning back suddenly and hooking his arms underneath your legs, gripping your thighs and bringing you closer. “I want to taste you first.”

Gulping you leant back, allowing Toto to bring his mouth to where you needed it most. As his tongue lapped gently, he brought his hand along and began to stroke your clit, slowly but sensually.

It wasn’t long before you were writhing in pleasure, tugging Toto’s dark locks as he pumped a finger in and out, continuing to expertly lick.

“Toto, I want you in me,” you said, seeing stars as you were so close.

Pausing his ministrations, Toto was more than happy to oblige, kissing his way back up your torso as he replied, “I want to do everything with you.”

At that, you melted, the evening had turned into one that was beyond your wildest dreams. As Toto swiftly undressed you both, you gazed into his intense chocolate eyes as he slipped on a condom and began to line himself up, unsurprisingly intimidatingly big.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he pushed in, slowly but surely. Gasping, you shifted to adjust to his size. True to his word, he took it easy and entered tantalisingly slowly, an inch at a time.

“Fuck, Toto.” you said breathily, “You’re so big.”

Smiling, he pulled back out before pushing in once more, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

“Not at all, it feels good,” you said, feeling pleasantly stretched in places you’d never felt before.

“Good,” he said with a grin as he began to thrust in and out lazily, continuing to kiss you.

It wasn’t long before you were a tangled mess of arms and legs, both nearing completion. “Fuck, Toto, I am so close,” you said, your eyes rolling back in pleasure.

“Close isn’t good enough,” said Toto, smirking as he reached down and found your clit once again, his thumb circling gently as he continued to push in and out, speeding up.

“That feels so go…” you couldn’t even finish your sentence as Toto hit the sweet spot with expert precision. 

“Fu…” was all Toto managed as he thrust in and out a few more times, chasing his own high before collapsing on top of you, his body heavy.

“Ooff,” you said, crushed by the weight of the muscular man on top of you.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, flashing a shy grin as he rolled off to lie beside you.

“Well… that was not how I expected my birthday to turn out,” you said, feeling like you were in a dream.

Toto laughed, stretching a strong arm across your stomach to pull you in for a cuddle. “There’s still a few hours of your birthday left.”

Your eyes widened once more. This was certainly a birthday to remember.

#toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #toto wolff x y/n #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you

[vxlentinescookies]

Feeding the Shadow Milk Cookie simps again/silly

But can I request Shadow Milk Cookie headcanons smut one shot (or headcanons, I don’t mind) it can be that Shadow Milk Cookie took over the faerie kingdom and the reader is their partner and it’s just celebraty sex for taking over the kingdom (if this don’t make sense I’m sorry I’m not good at giving plot lol) but remember to take water breaks too :)

→ ❛King and Queen❜

→ Pairing ; Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader → Quote ; N/A → Genre ; Headcanons , Nsfw → A/N ; Here you go! I used a cointoss to determine if it'd be a oneshot or headcanons and headcanons won! Also I will drink water! haha, you take care of yourself too <3

Rejoice be the members of the old Faerie Kingdom, as its new King had arrived. With a swift defeat of the heroes of light, Shadow Milk cookie settled as the new king of the faerie kingdom, and with every big achievement, there had to be a celebration, dont you think? 

He’d guide you to the bedroom, where not only could you gaze at the new kingdom filled with joy and mischief, but also, enjoy a lovely night with your partner.

He’d take long rounds with you, just enough to celebrate this new win by your side, he’s not letting this chance go to lose.

He’ll start with foreplay, biting your neck and licking every wound, he’ll probably draw blood, but dont mind him, he just adores your taste

It’ll take a bit of time to get to the main event as he gets you undressed and he undresses himself, so cope with him, he’ll get to filling you up in no time.

Will talk dirty in your ear, call you names like slut, but prefers sweet names like puppet.

His breath would become hitched as you both approach the main event, his cock ready to ravish you whole as he comes inside you, he’ll groan and comment on how tight you are while biting your shoulder, and from then on there’s no turning back, he wont stop until you’re thoroughly filled in the night, even if it takes him till morning to achieve his objective.

I’ve already stated that this man is into creampies, so of course that for a celebratory sex he’d want to fill you even more than usual.

He’s not overly vocal, but will grunt and moan in your ear as he slowly comes undone.

If along the way you become overestimulated with him getting handsy and his cock pounding into you, good luck! He’s not stopping anytime soon!

Will clean you up once he’s done, helping you come back from the high and cuddling you as you both welcome your new kingdom with a lovely high.

#🌙;stellar headcanons #💌;cotton nebulae #shadow milk cookie x reader #cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #crk x reader

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

06/04/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Samba Schutt; Nathan Foad; Ruibo Qian; Con O'Neill; Dominic Burgess; Damien Gerard; Tell Tale TV Awards; SaveOFMD Crew - Never Left; AdoptOurCrew; Fan Spotlight: Cast Cards/NeverLeftPodcast; Articles; Pride Month; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Today's Taika

== Rhys Darby ==

Rhys posted on Instagram saying he spoils us, well yes, yes sir you do! That's another Cryptid Factor episode this week! #094 The 'This Paranormal Life' Special Issue of The Cryptid Factor on Spotify!

Source: Rhys Darby's Instagram / Spotify

== Taika Waititi ==

More proud hubby pics of Taika at Rita's concert.

Source: CapitalOfficial Instagram

And a sneaky Taika as well.

Source: RitaOra_AlbanianFan Instagram

== Samba Schutte ==

Samba has his #CrewForLife shirt up again! It's back for pride while supplies last! Please visit shopstands.com. Also a quick cameo from Samba!

Source: Samba Schutte's Instagram

== Ruibo Qian ==

Our lovely Pirate Queen performed a beautiful song for us, and it was too big for the recap so I've included it here: Ruibo Qian 06/03/2024 Video

OG Source: Ruibo Qian's Instagram

== Nathan Foad ==

Nathan is back with more ratings! This time his "Quids!"

Source: Nathan Foad's Instagram Stories

== Con O Neill ==

Con wishes us all "Happy pride beautiful people"!

Source: Con O Neill's Instagram

Very Long Post Under The Cut

== Gypsy Taylor ==

"I’m cooking something up with @theleadclub ⬅️ follow for more info to be revealed soon". Our lovely costume designer Gypsy Taylor has a cool class called The Lead Club, and they'll be doing drawing classes with some other fantastic people. If you're interested, follow their Instagram below!

Source: Gypsy Taylor's Instagram / TheLeadClub Instagram

== Damien Gerard ==

Our Papa Teach, Damien Gerard is sending love for Pride Month <3

Source: Damien Gerard's Instagram

== Dominic Burgess ==

Dominic's been busy! Lots of celebrating his awesome show Palm Royale! Also he was kind enough to send us some more Cat Pictures, which you know I can't resist.

Source: @ awards_watch Twitter

Source: Dominic Burgess Twitter

Source: Dominic Burgess Twitter

== Save OFMD Crew: #NeverLeft! ==

Our dear friends over at SaveOFMD Crew have their calendar up for #NeverLeft and are working hard to help raise money for our Queer Elders through SAGEUSA. Please visit their post below to learn more and how you can help!

== Save OFMD Crew: Tell Tale Awards Reminders! ==

So many folks are fighting for the Tell Tale awards for Rhys, Ruibo and OFMD! Our kind crewmates over at SOFMD have created a nice guide for us with a QR Code to scan! You can visit their post here as well for more info!

== Adopt Our Crew ==

Our dear crewmates over at @adoptourcrew have been very busy for Pride Month! Please visit their tumblr to learn all about the charity/creator spotlights they have going on! I wanted to include a bunch today but I ran out of image room so please visit their Tumblr: @adoptourcrew In addition, there was a shout out by @ gunnverse on Instagram regarding all the PoliteMenacing/MassiveAggression from June 3!

Source: AdoptOurCrew's Instagram

== Articles ==

Also Shared by AdoptOurCrew on instagram was this Yahoo Entertainment article Read the Article Below!

Source: AdoptOurCrew on Instagram

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

Our sweet and so very kind @melvisik is back again with more Cast Cards! Today is "listed as Soldier #2, aka one of the incredible stunt performers"!

Source: @melvisik's Twitter

= Never Left Podcast =

New Episode of Never Left! is out on your favorite podcast platforms! Please visit Never Left Podcast Linktr.ee to listen!

Source: Never Left Podcast Instagram / Art by @AmysBirdHouse

== Pride Month ==

= Colouring Pages =

More colouring pages this month by the lovely @patchworkpiratebear! The @adoptourcrew team will be sharing them all month long as they come out and I've been given permission to share them as well! So exciting to color in some Pride Pages! If you do, please be sure to share them with @adoptourcrew and @patchworkpiratebear! Our Flag Means Pride Flag / Our Flag Gentlebeard Items

== Pride Peanuts ==

Another ADORABLE set of Pride Peanuts by the fabulous @blackbeardskneebrace! I love the little Fang so much 😭. Please follow them for more awesome art!

Source: BlackbeardsKneeBrace's Tumblr

== Love Notes ==

Hey there lovelies. Wow, it's been a busy few days. Pride month is off to a great start. I will probably be slow/behind the next few days as I've got some stuff going on at home. My girl Zoey, (my kitty) is 16 years old and diabetic, and she's lost a lot of weight recently, and she's been really sick, so I'm spending a lot of time taking care of her, sometimes late at night (and you all know I don't get a lot of sleep as it is). I don't wanna bum anyone out-- but today I wanted to talk about love. None of us know how long we have. We generally know pets have less time than ourselves, and sometimes unfortunately humans don't have the time we think they will. No matter who you love-- whether it's an animal, or a human, or a child, or a family member or a friend, I just want to send a reminder that the amount of time we have with them is not predictable. If you can, take that extra few minutes to hold them today. Take those few extra minutes to tell them you love them. Take the few extra minutes to call them up (if they have thumbs) and just tell them you're thinking of them. Love is one of the greatest and most powerful feelings in the world. It can move mountains for individuals, or groups. It can bring so many people together (like the love we have for ofmd) and it can make the biggest difference in millions of lives. Don't be afraid to love crew. Sometimes pain comes with loving something, and I know you've had enough of that in your life, but the love is worth it in the long run. Give love to your fur/scale kids, give love to your human children, give love to your friends, and give love to your family, and most of all, give love freely to yourself. Of all the things in this world that we may regret, love and the enjoying of it in all of it's many forms will almost always be worth it. And if it's not-- you can move that love to someone / something more deserving of your gift.

Anyway crew, just remember I love you, and I know so many crew members do too. Remember to love yourself and give love where you can (and don't beat yourself up if you can't). Hope you have a good rest of the week-- it's Hump Day! Half way there!

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

In Honor of more Cryptid Factor this week I'm bringing back this lovely Rhys gem by @ofmd-ann. Taika gif courtesy of @livwifeofkarl (seemed fitting since Rhys is holding on, and Taika not so much).

#ofmd daily recap #ofmd #our flag means death #save ofmd #sofmd crew #aoc crew #adopt our crew #ruibo qian #nathan foad #rhys darby #taika waititi #damien gerard #dominic burgess #con o neill #never left podcast #samba schutte

[chaoticallyfluffy]

To celebrate pride month I’m gonna get myself cancelled by saying my sexuality headcanons for DC characters! Most of which I know pretty much nothing about! Please don’t kill me :D

This is a long post and NONE of this is canon. I have very little knowledge on any of these guys these headcanons are based purely on vibes and it’s all for fun so take it with a jar full of salt.

Bruce/Batman:

He would be bi. I have no doubt about it. His Brucie persona would be very open about it, flirting with potential sponsors at galas no matter the gender to convince them to donate more to his charity as well as flirting with the reporters just to spread the rumors that he's a playboy. As Batman he’d be much more quiet about it. He never talks about himself so no one knows anything about him. No one ever realizes he is bi until he reveals his identity and as one of the most prominent openly bisexual celebrities in the world, they realize right away.

He was born a man and understands and supports transgender people but he never thought too hard about it for himself and is very confident in his gender being male. He is comfortable with being feminine at times without it reflecting his gender and sometimes dresses in drag for photoshoots and paparazzi.

Diana/Wonder Woman :

She lived in a society of exclusively women where lesbian was the default. You either liked women, or you liked no one at all. She was the latter for many years until she met Steve and then she felt something strange for the first time. It took her a long time to realize it was love and that she was only attracted to men which is why she never felt anything for the women in her previous home.

When she hears about transgender people she’s a little bit offended by people ‘deciding’ not to be a woman at first but that’s because she misunderstood the concept. After a bit of explaining she not only accepts it, but becomes a huge ally and will defend their rights fiercely. She has never considered she would be anything but female and is incredibly confident in her own gender.

Clark/Superman:

He’d be just a tiny bit bi but he doesn’t know since he never put much thought into it and much prefers women anyway. He gets a bit uncomfortable when people talk about lgbtq+ things since he doesn’t understand it but he supports it anyway and will fly over pride parades with various flags given to him by Bruce.

He knows transgender people exist but doesn’t understand that being trans is an possibility for him specifically. It just never crossed his mind. When asked his pronouns he says “I’m a man :)” and he’s so kind about it and clearly trying so most people just smile and nod and don’t bother explaining that that isn’t an answer.

Barry Allen/Flash:

He definitely experimented in college and wasn’t exactly opposed, but romantically he is only into women and after marrying Iris he had no reason to keep trying new things. He loves his wife and that’s all that matters. When Wally comes out to him as gay he’s very supportive but doesn’t understand much and promptly researches every single lgbtq+ label in existence.

He doesn’t fully understand transgender stuff but he’s trying really hard. Right now he’s too busy memorizing the names and flags of every sexuality. Check back in a few weeks when he realizes theres more to it than that and actually pays attention to things like transgender rights and homophobia. He will be a changed man and a fierce ally, trying hard to shed light on these issues and change the laws to be more inclusive.

Martian manhunter:

Gender and sexuality are human concepts. Biological sex is irrelevant to a shapeshifter so why would he let it limit him? He doesn’t understand why it matters so much to humans but he tries to understand. He knows a lot more about the lgbtq+ community than most people and fights for their rights but still doesn’t care much about his own labels.

He accepts whatever pronouns other use for him. He literally could not care less.

(I just wrote so much stuff and it all got deleted. Pain.)

Hal Jordan/ Green Lantern:

After travelling through space for so long you start to realize that human gender norms are kinda stupid. When you meet enough sexless space blobs who’s pronouns are based on developmental stages or races with thirty seven sexes and only one set of pronouns for all of them, you start to question if “male” is really the only optjon for you. He doesn’t know his gender quite yet but he’s pretty confident he’s not exactly a man. He doesn’t talk about it much except with people he’s very close to. He has noticed that he has a heavy preference towards 'women' no matter the species, as long as they're sentient.

Billy Batson/ Captain Marvel/ Shazam:

I think he’d be biromantic asexual trans man because hes my favourite boy and I say so. Again, do not kill me. He’s canonically dated and had crushes on girls but I feel like the whole ‘sometimes looks like an adult’ thing would really complicate things and he would try to push away any romantic feelings to not let it distract him from his work or cause any problems. It would probably take him a good few years to realize that he also likes guys and even longer to realize he never really felt anything further than romantic about anyone.

He knew he was trans since he knew what gender was. He has never identified as a girl and as soon as he could talk he told his parents he was a boy they were like “alrighty then!” And treated him accordingly. Hair cuts, pronouns, clothing and such. He didn’t even realize it was seen as ‘abnormal’ until his parents died. his uncle refused to call him by the correct pronouns and all his foster homes after that were similarly transphobic. He never faltered though and when he started living on the streets, he threw away all the dresses and bows his previous fosters got him and never looked back.

Batkids lightning round:

Richard Grayson/Nightwing:

Very openly gay while in costume. Still open out of costume but is just the teeniest bit quieter about it (aka when he’s out of costume he can’t yell at villains about being homophobic for hitting a gay man every time he takes a punch)

He’s a man (either trans or cis, i havent decided yet lol) but he isn’t afraid to wear a dress and makeup every once in a while and is very comfortable with his femininity and masculinity.

Jason Todd:

Who cares? He sure doesn’t. He’s dated women and doesn’t think it’s necessary to explore any further.

He’s never explored his gender and is a bit toxicly masculine but he can, will, and has killed people for being transphobic or making a transgender person feel even slightly uncomfortable. Huge ally though he doesn’t talk much about lgbtq+ rights, it’s just so obvious to him that he doesn’t think it needs to be talked about. A fan group online keeps a tally of how many homophobes and transphobes he's sent to the hospital and the number is unbelievably high.

Tim drake:

Unlabelled. He doesn’t have time to think about any of that but he knows he’s probably not straight, especially considering he has dated men, women, and nonbinary folk. It doesn’t really matter much to him.

Same thing for gender, who has the time? He identifies as male because looking too deep when he feels just fine as a guy would be a waste of time to him. If he had a transgender friend suggest it though, he would look a bit deeper and find that he’s either cis or gender apathetic. At that point he'd get bored and stop again lol.

Damian Wayne:

He has other things to worry about. Like eliminating all crime, for example. And polishing his swords. He'll deal with the whole 'romance' thing when he is the appropriate marriage age and will select if he wants to date a girl or a boy then. (He has not yet realized that isn't how it works. He'll realize hes aroace eventually but for now teaching Alfred the cat how to steal from Tim is much more important)

Other misc hero’s:

Zatanna: bi with a preference for women.

John Constantine: (edited this one because it was misunderstood) Bi but that’s none of your business. Won’t go out of his way to hide it but isn’t gonna tell you about it either unless it’s actually relevant.

Kon-el/Conner Kent/ Superboy: Gay. Maybe one day he’ll try dating a woman or something just to see if he’s interested but for now he knows he likes men so he’s sticking to that. They use He/they pronouns.

Wally west/ kid flash: Gay. Thought he was bi for a bit but realized he was just trying to hold on to a tiny bit of normalcy and accepted he would never be ‘normal’. He’s very happy with his boyfriend now! Experimented with different pronouns for a few months but ended up being a cis man. The experience really helped him understand the community better and hes glad he tried it out even in it didnt result in a big self discovery or anything.

And thats it! If you have a different headcanon please tell me in the comments/reblogs/tags/whatever!! I’m super interested to hear them.

#happy pride 🌈 #pride month #dc #justice league #dcu #headcanon #headcanons #batman #bruce wayne #superman #clark kent #pride #diana prince #wonder woman #flash #the flash #barry allen #wally west #kid flash #superboy #Conner Kent #Kon el #zatanna #john constantine #billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #batkids #batfam #batfamily