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#soft blurb night
harlowhockeystick · 1 year
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♡ soft blurb night ♡
⎯ i have today and tomorrow off of school, so why not write some blurbs?! you can send in some prompts with your favs. lookin forward to it hehe <3
"call me on your way home"
"i'm always happy with you"
"i told you to bring a jacket, silly"
"please come out, i need to talk to you"
"would a hug make it better?"
"you always look pretty"
"i'll always love you, you know that"
"thanks for coming over last night"
"do you need a kiss?"
"you're always there for me, it's time i return the favor"
send requests here!
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munsonthings86 · 4 months
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bedtime with steve
warnings: fluff, soft!steve, clingy!steve, new relationship, 0.3k words
an unofficial part two to this fic
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steve had you safely wrapped in his arms, palms supporting your thighs that were tight around his waist. he gently laid you onto his plush, doughy mattress without ever unlatching his mouth from yours. he was ravenous for the feeling of your plump lips against his. through the opening of the patterned curtains adorning the square window, the moon's glare that poured into steve's bedroom casted a silver glow along your skin.
he caught a glimpse of your beauty when your smile pulled you out of the kiss, head going fuzzy from being so engulfed in him. the way you were practically glowing in the dark like this was so alluring to him. a true work of art.
"you're so beautiful," he laughed softly, shaking his head in disbelief, pressing a fleeting kiss to your lips as he did so. before you could even properly kiss him back, he pulled away, brushing your hair away from your face. "so, so pretty," another kiss. "i can't handle it," he chuckled against your lips. another kiss.
"how'd i get so lucky, hm?" it was more of a question to himself than to you, though. he rested his body on top of yours, but held most of his weight off of you with the help of his forearms. you shuffled under him, opening your legs so that he could lay comfortably between them, folding your arms around his neck to pull him in for another smooch.
your lips were puffy and wet from what felt like hours of kissing steve and you're both breathless when you finally pull away. steve's hand finds your wrist as he trails your hand away from his cheek, lacing his slender fingers through yours. "ready for bed?" he asked, with a dopey smile that disrupted his usually stern features.
you nodded your head, though the last thing on your mind was sleep. "one more kiss?"
"you read my mind," he mumbled, leaning in to kiss you again and again and again. the two of you weren't going to bed for another while.
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💌 1 new message from jojo: requests are open and strongly encouraged. whether it’s for a blurb, fic, or just some thoughts in general :) see u in the next one
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schmidtsbimbo · 4 months
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hello! hope you are doing well :)
I was wondering if I could request a Mike Schmidt blurb of like the little things he admires about the reader and how he expresses his appreciation for them?
ty for the request !!! this feels so informal and short but i’m trying to get through all my requests ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა hope this does your request justice !! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა
𖦹Warnings: none this is pure fluff :p
⋆。°‧Requests are open! Comments and reblogs are welcome and appreciated ♡
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mike would absolutely adore every single thing about you. even small little quirks that some other people might find a bit annoying or weird he finds completely endearing.
mike would especially admire how understanding and compassionate you are towards his financial situation. he refused to let you babysit abby at first when you offered to do it free of charge purely out of guilt.
he definitely still feels guilty about not being able to get you spontaneous gifts or flowers as much as he’d like or thinks you deserve but your constant reassurance that you do it out of love and don’t care for that stuff settles his mind a bit.
he still finds cute ways to show you how much he appreciates your help and kindness, like saying he’s going out for a small walk to clear his mind and coming back home with a small bouquet of flowers that he picked himself and wrapped up with some old newspaper.
he doesn’t just acknowledge the things you do and sacrifices you make for him, he also deeply admires your beauty. whether it’s him simply getting lost in your eyes as he watches them sparkle whenever you talk about something that deeply interests you to him showering you in kisses whenever you express any type of insecurities about your physical appearance.
mike would be laying in bed, watching you as you look at yourself in the the mirror and immediately walking to you, standing by your side as soon as he sees the dismayed expression on your face. cupping your face with his hands and planting soft kisses from your forehead to your cheeks and nose, muttering small things like “such a pretty girl, don’t ever doubt that for a second” in between kisses, making sure he gives you all the reassurance and love in the world whenever you need it.
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babyjakes · 1 year
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dreamy undoing.
〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉
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event | april '23 ddlg-themed blurb night
summary | when you need it most, ransom knows exactly how to clear out your pretty little head.
pairing | daddy!ransom drysdale x little!reader
warnings | ddlg. soft sweet doting daddy!ransom. toys: warming cream, clit pump, vibe, butt plug. fingering. soo much praise, a little dumbification, lots of "shhhhh"s which are my favorite hehe <3. reader cries a little but only due to pleasure. reader is tied up. multiple orgasms, squirting.
word count | 1,517
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requested by 🫧 anon | Life has been so stressy lately and I just know that Daddy Ari or Daddy Andy (or any Daddy you feel like writing!) would put together the perfect plan to wipe all the stressy thoughts from their little one’s brain. Daddy would make sure she feels all safe and little first, and then maybe tie her up to show her some new toys he got for her as he tells her that he’s going to use them to make all her stress go away. By the end, all she can do is come and squirt over and over and over again as daddy makes her make a big big mess.
an | ohh bestie i'm so glad you sent in a toy request, i have been craving a good toy fic and this was perfectly timed for blurb night!! hope it's alright with you that i chose ransom, i just love him and miss him and always think of him first when it comes to toys hehe <3 also?? this was supposed to be just a quick lil blurb but the adhd medication got me completely carried away..... hope you enjoy >:-)
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"There you go baby— shhh," Ransom's voice is the softest, sweetest thing you've ever heard as his gentle fingers spread the yummy-scented cream all over your poor little button. Your legs twitch against the ropes holding you open and spread wide for your daddy. Though you're all tied up in quite a punishing position, this is not a disciplinary session. Instead, the restraints are simply there for your safety, for your comfort. Ransom knows this is exactly what you need after such a grueling week of school and work; all he wants to do is let his pretty baby's mind melt away to nothing as he rewards her endlessly for all the hard work she's been doing.
"Mmm... Daddy," you mumble. Ransom hums along with you as he rolls your tiny knot of nerves between his fingers, the effects of the special cream not taking long at all to be felt. "Th-thank you Daddy, feels so nice, feels—"
"Shhh— you're welcome, baby," the dark-haired man leans his head in to press a kiss against your forehead as he works your sensitive clit with his fingers. "You just let Daddy take care of you, hmm? Don't have to worry about a single thing, sunshine. Need to empty out that pretty little head of yours, s'not good for a tiny baby like you to be doin' so much thinkin'."
From the little pile of toys he has sitting next to you on the bed, he grabs your favorite pump next. It's a simple device with a round plastic cup for your clit, connected to a small bulb that allows your daddy to work the suction manually. As Ransom uses his fingers to spread you out gently, fitting the toy into its place, your toes curl in excitement. "Need to get your sweet little button all puffy and ready for Daddy to play with, right baby?" he smiles as he sucks your poor clit up with a squeeze, earning an eager nod from you as he wiggles the pump carefully, making sure the seal is air-tight.
"Bet that feels nice— huh, princess?" he croons knowingly as he grabs the next toy: your pretty pink plug, custom-made with genuine Swarovski crystals embedded in the base. "Don't worry, angel. Gonna get it nice and slick for you, make sure nothing hurts for my pretty little girl." Eyeing your dripping folds, he hums in approval. "Such a good girl, getting so messy for me already."
Your mind floats safely through your tiny headspace as Ransom preps the plug with plenty of lubricant, earning a quiet whimper from you as he begins rubbing the blunted tip up against your puckered hole. "Easy baby, shhh," he soothes you once more, bringing one hand up to tap against the hard plastic encasing your clit as the other begins working the plug into you. He releases the pump before squeezing it again and again at a quick, teasing pace, your poor puffy button getting sucked up over and over by the tool.
Your breaths deepen, heart thumping faster and faster as your clit pulsates in pleasure, the sensation of the plug stretching you out in your most sensitive of places bringing you closer and closer to the edge in little time at all. Attentive as always, Ransom senses your growing arousal with ease. "Good girl, that's my sweet little y/n. That feel nice, baby? You like it when Daddy plays with your clit and plugs up your pretty little bottom? Poor little girl— so tight, aren't you?" he mocks pity, the heat in your tummy growing as he slides the plug in and out of your burning hole, letting it stretch you out as far as it can without quite giving you the satisfaction of inserting it fully to sit nicely in its intended place.
"P-please Daddy," you pout, bottom lip trembling as he toys with your ass, letting out a gasp as he sucks your needy button up fully again before plunging two thick fingers into your neglected cunt. "O-oh Daddy... thank you Daddy, I— please, please Daddy..." Ransom grins at the sound of your increasing desperation. The first orgasm is always his favorite; he loves dragging it out, watching as it creeps up slowly, then before either of you know it, all at once.
"There you go, babygirl. Just needed this pretty little pussy filled up, huh?" he sings, the pads of his fingers curling up against your tender ceiling as you grit your teeth, tears building in your eyes as you pass the point of no return.
"Please Daddy, I-I'm gonna— please," you heave.
"Go ahead, baby," Ransom murmurs, giving you a knowing nod as he works his hands faster, bringing you right to orgasm at his simple command, "cum for me. Theere," he hums, a satisfied look washing over his face as he witnesses you coming completely undone before him.
Clenching down against the plug and your daddy's fingers, you completely let go, gushing steadily against his ministrations. Your climax is long, steady, and intense, pathetic whimpers sputtering out of you once you finally begin to drift back down to earth. Ransom carries you through it with care, working your most sensitive places as long as he can to give you as pleasurable of an orgasm as possible. Only when you're finally winding down does he slow, bringing his drenched fingers up to his lips to taste your sweet juices.
"So good for me, angel," his voice is low, tender as he finally pushes the plug in fully, watching as it nestles itself perfectly into place against your trembling rosebud. Free hand coming up to rub your tummy gently, he coos as it still spasms lightly from your euphoric high. "So proud of you, sweetheart. Did so well for Daddy, that feel good?"
"Mhmm," you hum, gazing at him through half-closed lids as you soak in the dreamy waves of pleasure still coursing through your veins. "So good, thank you Daddy," you mewl sweetly.
"You're so welcome, little one. Now let's see here," he muses, bringing his attention back up to your clit as it sits swollen in its clear cage. "Oh my," he breathes as he lets it out of the pump with a pop, the magic workings of the device and the cream visible as the little bundle of nerves now sits completely exposed and hardened, just begging to be loved on. "So puffy, baby. Look at you," he enthuses, placing a hand behind your head to bring it forward, forcing you to look at your poor, abused sex.
"S-so puffy," you agree, eyes widening as he reaches for the bottle of lube, gently dripping some down against the knot of flesh. The sensation of the cool liquid hitting your most sensitive spot brings tears to your eyes once more.
"Think I've bullied your poor little button enough, huh?" he frowns as he grabs a small, cordless wand from beside you— another favorite. "Think it deserves some relief. What do you say, princess?"
"Y-yes Daddy, please Daddy," you drool as you rest your head back against the pillows once more, the sound of the wand switching on already overwhelming you with anticipation.
Pressing three fingers into your messy heat this time, Ransom gives no warning before bringing the head of the wand down to begin working over your clit. You jolt at the intensity, earning a light chuckle from the dark-haired man as he begins pumping his digits in and out of you once more, singing, "There, that's what you needed, isn't it? Just needed Daddy to tie you down and let you cum? How long d'you think you'll last this time, sweetheart?" he wonders aloud.
But you're already teetering towards the edge again, the wand being swirled over your throbbing clit in slick, steady circles enough to make your mind go completely numb. And that's all Ransom wants; that's all he's wanted from the beginning: to reduce you down to nothing but whimpers and moans, a drippy, darling mess at the mercy of his skilled hands. "Please... please..." Your vocabulary is shrinking by the second as his fingers speed up against your burning walls.
"You don't have to beg, baby. You can cum, can cum as many times as you need. Daddy's gonna take care of you, sunshine," he promises as you reach your second high, tears and spit dribbling down your chin as you squirt out against your daddy's hands once more. He praises you softly and sweetly, letting you ride out your orgasm for as long as you can. Your juices crackle against the hum of the vibrator as you squeeze your eyes shut, heart pounding in your throat as you wait seconds, minutes, what feels like forever for the ripples of pleasure to finally subside.
"Hmmph... Daddy..." your own voice sounds miles away from you as you stay in your daze, head entirely somewhere else as you feel the wand being run up and down your soaked slit.
"Daddy's here, angel. Doin' so good for me— let's see if you can give me another one, hm?"
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quietly tagging @onsunnyside in dis bc. dis is puff puff behavior fr.
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cherryjuiceblues · 1 year
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for the sleepover!!
just a cute little midnight snack fluff blurb. y/n can’t sleep and goes downstairs to make her fav midnight snack— H wakes up and finds her downstairs and finishes making it for her 🥹🥹🫶🏼 no rush at all and it’s totally okay if u don’t get to it!! xx
✰ boyfriend!harry no warnings.
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You’ve been staring at the side of Harry’s face for longer than you know, long since giving up on attempting to sleep and instead trying to make out your boyfriend’s pretty features in the dark. You don’t know why you’re struggling so much tonight but, it seems no matter what you do, your brain just won’t settle.
You’d considered waking Harry up but immediately dismissed the thought, frowning at the idea of disrupting his sleep. And after tracing his face with your eyes a multitude of times, feeling no closer to falling asleep, you decide to get up. You don’t breathe until you’re sure you haven’t woken Harry, engulfing deep breathes once you reach the kitchen, the tiles cold on your feet. Something warm in your tummy ought to mellow you out a little, you think.
Everything seems to make so much more noise when you’re trying to be quiet, the pot you’re extracting from the cupboard making you wince as it clatters against something and the lid you nearly drop scraping against something else. As the water boils (run from the apparently deafening tap) your body deflates—exhaustion more prevalent now that you’re up, and you rest yourself against the counter, head hanging low. Your eyes fall shut and despite the discomfort of standing you nearly drift off, until you hear the telling noise of bubbling water and force your eyes open.
“What’re you doing up?” A tired voice sounds behind you and you nearly jump out of your skin, whipping around to see a dishevelled Harry. You frown. “Don’t be too pleased to see me,” he says sarcastically, scratching at his jaw.
“I didn’t want to wake you up, m’sorry.” You let him pull you into a hug as he walks over, chest hard and warm.
“My body was missing you,” he drawls, and you smile against him. “Get hungry?”
You nod, “Couldn’t sleep,” speaking into his skin. “M’making cheesy pasta.”
Harry hums and fiddles with the hob behind you—probably turning it down. Still wrapped up in his arms, you go to turn but he stops you.
“Lemme. Go sit.” And you want to argue but you’re too tired. So with delayed steps you totter over and lift yourself up onto the counter opposite Harry and the hob; probably a bad idea considering you might fall off it if you drift off, but once you’re up, you don’t want to move.
Harry potters about and you watch him with eyes half-lidded. Gaze as he takes out the pasta and pours an appropriate amount into the pan (you would’ve cooked enough to feed a family of four, most likely) and then as he grates some cheese to make the sauce. It’s a meal he makes well, experienced in the cooking of it whenever you need comfort food. Your eyes shut once more and you’re too gone to panic about where you’re sitting as the delicious smell of cooking lulls you to sleep.
“Hey,” Harry whispers, suddenly in front of you, hand on your knee. Well, you think it’s sudden but then you realise you’re just waking up. He’s holding a finished bowl of cheesy pasta and you perk up considerably, wiping the tiredness from your eyes.
“Mm, thank you,” you hum, reaching out to grab it with slow movements.
Harry pulls it away, removing his hand from you to hold the fork. “I’ll feed you, baby, y’can close your eyes.” You smile up at him, heart full, even though you shake your head in a way of saying you’ll keep them open. Harry knows you won’t. He stabs a couple of pieces and holds them up to your mouth that you open gratefully, eyes shutting immediately at the soothing warmth and taste. You try to reopen them, you do, but Harry reassures you. “Don’t fight it, love.”
He means it in the most sincere and caring way, but he also takes the opportunity to feed himself some, free of your inevitable grumbling and pouting (“Don’t eat my food!” He can picture you saying, before replying, “I made it for you, brat.”).
Once the pasta is all gone, and you are ninety-five percent asleep, Harry sets the bowl down quietly in the sink and scoops you up into his arms—your legs cling to his waist, and your arms to his neck, like the true depiction of a sloth.
When he lays you back down in bed, it takes you all of five seconds to sink into a happy and satisfied slumber, this time with Harry the one to watch your face before he too, falls asleep.
sleepover tag!
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gingerjolover · 5 months
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omggg well since u asked for holiday requests: soft!gf and julien ice skating together?? and one of them (dealer’s choice) is super nervous / has never done it before but the other’s a natural. maybe the boys and muna are there, maybe they aren’t, up to u. love ur work mama g 🫶🏽
okay wait soft!gf gives me lowkey figure skater vibes... maybe figure skater!gf oop
like gf lived a whole life before they became soft!gf and met jb and got into a relationship
(i physically cannot create another universe rn because i am so backed up, but we can keep this in the back of our minds, yes?)
okay i would like to think that jb would actually be pretty good on skates but it would be getting her on the ice thats hard
like if soft!gf actively still skates, julien is watching her rehearse or going to competitions or maybe watching her teach classes in awe of how she moves
but julien is SO resistant to getting onto the ice, like seeing how graceful soft!gf is, julien just doesn't believe that she could be the same way??
but let's say that julien and soft!gf are in NYC or soft!gf's hometown, maybe at the rink they grew up skating in (whether soft!gf was a figure skater or just ice skated with friends for fun)
and soft!gf is BEGGING julien to come skate, even just for a little
def goes as far to rent out the rink or hit some people up and be like "can we just have an hour, my girlfriend is super nervous"
and soft!gf is a treasure and loved so dearly...so clearly, they get the rink to themselves
getting julien in the car to go to the rink? check
getting julien in the proper clothing and skates? check
getting julien on the ice? girl... bffr
it takes SO much bribing and bartering, i mean soft!gf owes julien like 5 massages, a warm bath, 2 hours of braiding her hair, and special cookies that she doesn't make often because they're time consuming before julien agrees
and julien is giving bambi
holding onto the wall, slipping and sliding
it takes most of the hour? two hours? that they have the rink for jules to just acclimate to the ice
eventually soft!gf convinces jb to hold on to the walker thingy (yall know what im talking about?) or the big traffic cone and skaet around the ice
and right before they need to clear out, julien lets soft!gf take her hands, skating backwards as they pull julien around the ice, teaching her how to brake and glide
julien doesn't fall once and is encouraged by the many kisses and butt grabs that soft!gf graces her with
ice skating!julien comes back into play when they return to LA
i feel like soft!gf was talking to kelli or katie about ice skating and they were like wait lets go ice skating
so munagenius all decides to go to a rink
and everyone is nervous, except katie and soft!gf, i feel like phoebe would be nervous but still just like step onto the ice
and julien has increased confidence but is still terrified
mainly because she hasn't fallen yet
but she lets soft!gf genuinely teaches all of them, Katie assisting because of their rollerskating knowledge
and all of munagenius are ice skating like grandmas, the best playlist you've ever heard bumping through the speakers
and i feel like julien would get tired quick, like would go off the ice and sit, a cup of coffee between her hands as she watches soft!gf try and help jo and lucy skate in zig zags
eventually munagenius watches katie and soft!gf's choreography you know how when you were a kid and you made dances with your cousin and performed them? thats the vibe
and it's to a song thats just so out there, maybe its like fucking hardy or something idk
or silk chiffon teehee
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heartfullofleeches · 1 year
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would there be any way the staff!reader could stay overnight in the gallery safely? without being turned into an art piece so everyone doesnt have to worry about losing them? maybe this reader, somehow hired to take care of and maintain everyone in the gallery, doesn't really have anywhere to go home to...?
honestly? i'd feel very protected if i had to sleep in an art gallery full of art + director that love and cherish me. after i get used to them being alive first–
BTW i hope you are safe, happy, stress-free, are eating well and drinking lots of water! have an amazing day whether you choose to answer this or not!! :D
Well, as long as you manage to make it clear that you'll never leave them, the gallery won't have to resort to turning you into a painting. I imagine living there would be the best way to do so actually. The topic will most likely come up again as you age or if you get seriously injured, but for the time they would be content with the arrangement and (somehow) work together to make sure you're given the same care that you've given them.
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"Is Y/n comfortable?"
The question's accompanied by light snickering as the hands at work complete their mission. You wrestle against your binds, but their softness and the persisting presence of hands pinning to the mat as well as combing through your hair makes you still. You accept defeat physically - but you're not down for the count yet.
"Scavenger, I really appreciate your effort, but I need to check on the other floors before I get some rest."
The Scavenger only laughs more, yet there's a notable difference to its tone. While clocking out for the night and tending to the rest of your duties off-shift, you were ambushed by the painting and dragged back to the storage closet you slept in. Your own bedding had already been laid out; added onto by the various blankets, foods, and other comforts they had stolen for you. The Scavenger used said blankets to swaddle you in and has been trying for the past half hour to get you to fall asleep. It hushes you with a finger to your lips.
"Shhhh. Quiet. There are new rules to follow. New rules to keep Y/n safe. Once their shift is over, it's our turn to take care of them. Might get sick otherwise."
The Scavenger runs its blackened fingers across the dark circles under your eyes to prove their point. As you prepare your rebuttal, the storage room door opens. Your stomach drops seeing who walks in.
The Lady in White. Red clings to the tails of her dress like haunts of her crimes and a knife welt in her hand. Crimson decorates the blade, but it's not blood. On further investigation, its revealed to the remaining skin of the item resting on the plate in her opposite hand. Her face scrunches up in disgust as she looks at all the processed foods around you.
"Please, stop feeding my darling garbage. I've left them in your company because I believe its for the best for us all, but I am not afraid to cut you all down if I must."
She places a plate of apple slices on the floor. "The Rose has been growing these for you. It's not much, but its food. If I had the right ingredients, I'm sure I can make a proper dish with them. Use this to buy them for me, and whatever else you may need."
She sets a wallet beside the plate. At least she tried to scrape off the blood the time. As soon as she takes her leave, another member of the gallery enters the room. Two in fact. The Painter, and a newer addition to the team, Soleil. The living clock had a habit of leaving its parts about for you to find, but seemed to be in working condition as it cocks its head at you quizzically. Its companion stares down the halls with a worried expression; shocked when they look over at you.
"Oh, dear. You're still awake, Poppy? That's no good- no good at all. I came all the way from my workshop to capture your-... I mean, check on you before the Angel stopped by to play guard."
"I told you they'd be up. They're always up at this hour no matter how often I tell them the time."
"Quiet, you overgrown alarm clock. We need to let them get their rest."
Then wh..y aren't you?
Soleil jumps at the new voice, while The Painter merely slacks their shoulders. No hope in getting that perfect picture now. The Faceless Angel stands behind the duo. They have gotten better with speech since they first lost their face. Slurred, their deep and raspy voice is much clearer now with only the smallest hiccups when they speak for long. Singing and talk to you while you winded down for the night help their progress immensely. In their hands, they hold a bright pink rose which yips in excitement the closer it gets to you. The angel puts it next to your bed and takes a seat; acting as your guardian angel for now, and as long as you will allow.
With your alarm clock, guardian, and two slightly bothersome, but still caring paintings - your eyes start to grow heavy. You don't remember when you start to dose off, or how long you actually slept, but the time on Soleil's open chest reads 4am when you're woken by a gentle shake.
"Hey, Y/n. Sorry for waking you, but I lost my house keys. Can I sleep next to you?"
You mumble a reply your coworker takes as a yes. Anri snuggles up beside you, careful not to touch you aside from placing a hand over your arm. You'd save wondering how they got their hands on a new uniform in the morning.
With the gallery's residents returned back to place, the director shuts the storage room door with a prayer of pleasant dreams. It feels so good to know that you're home.
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losfacedevil · 8 months
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“You’ve stolen my heart, the least you could do is tell me what you intend to do with it.” You mumbled, tears springing to your eyes as you paced the length of your kitchen.
Josh was perched up on your kitchen island, his legs crossed at the ankles as he kept his eyes downcast. His heart both swelled and shattered in his chest at your words, knowing full well you may not be fully receptive of what he was about to say.
“I intend to protect it. Be tender to it. Hold it in my hands and cherish it in a way that you’re not used to. I fully intend on placing all the Disney themed bandaids your little heart desires on all of the cracks until you let me in fully and allow me to fill those cracks with the love you deserve. I want to show you just how worth it you are. Okay?”
Josh looked up at you now, his eyes glistened with tears that mirrored your own. You stepped forward, wringing your hands at your waist as your gaze met him. Your bottom lip trembled as you bit back the soft sob that fought its way up your chest.
“I want to believe you. But I’ve been burned so many times.” Your voice was but a whisper as you took another step forward and closed the distance between the two of you.
You reached out, resting your hands against Josh’s knees. He nodded slowly, reaching up to cup your face in his hands, thumbs dancing across your cheeks to rid the tears that lay there. Your eyes fluttered shut as he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.
“You deserve to be loved the way you dream of. You just have to let me in.”
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becca-e-barnes · 2 years
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omg becca PLEASE write more stepdad!steve or bucky i literally don’t care who it is i just need to read more about a stepdad au because your last stepdad!steve x reader was AMAZING you wrote that (and everything you write) so well!!!😩
I have a reallll soft spot for the stepdad stuff with a daddy kink, it's just so delightfully filthy
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But the thought of just you and Steve being home alone and you decide to make the most of the alone time. Maybe you strip, lying naked in the centre of your bed, playing with the little shitty vibrator you've been hiding from him. It's not great by any stretch of the imagination but with a lot of concentration, it eventually gets the job done.
You really ramp your moans up though. So much so that he can hear you as he walks up the hall. The fact you kept your door open didn't help keep your secret either.
He stands in the doorway for a second, watching you get lost in a kind of mediocre, underwhelming pleasure. You'd taken your focus off listening for him in favour of keeping yourself tuned in to buzzing of the toy between your legs, giving your body what it needs to get just a little more worked up.
You look stunning like this, naked and lost in the freedom of knowing your own body. There's a confidence to the way you roll the toy against your own glistening cunt, a confidence that he finds so sexy because he loves that you know what you need and you don't hesitate to take it.
"Does that feel good, bunny?" He asks after a couple of minutes, his throbbing dick getting the better of him.
"Oh God, daddy. It's so good." You whine, your eyes opening again, now fixed on him. You're not sure how long he's been there but this was your aim all along.
The title makes his jaw clench. It's going to be one of those fucks.
"That's bullshit, honey." He smirks, stepping inside your room, letting you keep playing with yourself while he stalks to the end of your bed. "That thing isn't worth it's weight in shit. You know how I can tell?"
You shake your head, tugging your bottom lip between your own teeth because the toy feels somewhat better now that Steve is here.
"Because you know as well as I do that you would've cum for daddy already. The fact it hasn't got you off in all the time I've been watching tells me it's not enough for you anymore. What's wrong? Has daddy ruined your pretty pussy for anyone else? Can't even cum for yourself anymore?" Your skin was already hot but now it felt like it was burning with embarrassment.
You nod slowly, gasping when you roll the toy particularly nicely against your body. "You ruined me, daddy. I can only cum when I think of you. I-It's hard to cum without you now. It's n-not fair." You sound so pathetic, he almost feels sorry for you.
"I'd tell you I'm sorry but sweetheart, I warned you. I told you that I'd ruin you. You didn't listen. The only thought in your silly little head was how badly you wanted to bounce on daddy's big dick and now you can't get off unless I'm stuffed inside you." He was right, he did warn you and you didn't care. You still don't.
"Daddy please, I need you." You half sob, rutting your hips gently against the useless toy in your hand, not wanting to lose the stimulation but needing more than it could offer.
"You'll have me, princess. But right now, daddy wants to watch how desperate you get. I want to see how long it takes you to get so frustrated, you sob your little heart out. Then I'll give you what you need." That sounds awful but you know he'll enjoy every second. The way he rolls up his sleeves and sits at the end of your bed shouldn't turn you on but at least you have the promise of a real orgasm tonight.
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The Late Night Flight (pt. 1) /blurb/
AN: this will be part 1 of a 3 part story. the 1st being fluff, the 2nd part being smut, and the 3rd will be a mix of fluff and sick fic. they won't come out that close together, maybe days apart. and forewarning, i don't know much about private jets and how they are set up so if i get some information wrong, ignore it. hope you enjoy. please leave feedback.
This story contains: pure pluff
{ husband!harry - no kids - current harry era }
word count: 658
Harry leaves MSG and gets on his private jet to join his wife on their overnight flight from New York to Italy where the film festive occurs.
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As soon as Harry's show at Madison Square Garden night nine was over with, he ran off stage to get ready for the airport. You had left his show a bit earlier than you normally do so that you could be at the airport waiting on him. There was a private jet there awaiting you both that would take you from New York City all the way to Venice Italy for Harry to attend the film festival for his upcoming movie Don't Worry Darling.
By the time Harry made it to the airport, he was exhausted. Running around on stage for two hours and then rushing to get to the airport, it made his limbs feel weak and his head painfully sore. You weren't that much better either.
You'd been up since five this morning and now it was pushing midnight. You just wanted to crawl into your bed at home with your husband and go to sleep, which unfortunately couldn't happen. But you knew you'd both get some sleep on this plane ride to Italy. Typically when you fly on private jets they have reclining chairs that turn into somewhat of a comfy bed.
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As soon as Harry gets to the airport, he does all the necessary things to do for traveling on a plane and than follows his security to the gate at which his plane awaits.
"Where's y/n?" Harry asks one of the security guards that's walking in front of him. He hasn't had time to message you to find out where you were.
Turning around, the beefy guy answers, "She's already on the plane waiting for you." Harry was satisfied with the man's answer and kept walking on nearly numb legs. He just wanted to finally be with you. Even if you saw each other minutes before his concert, back in his dressing room.
Harry walks up the few steps on the private jet and makes his way to go find you. It doesn't take long for him to spot where you are. You were already in your seat, getting yourself situated with blankets and pillows for the long night flight. When he sees you, Harry mutters tiredly, "Hi, m'love. Missed you." Then leans down to peck your lips in a quick kiss.
"Hello, babes. Sorry I didn't wait up for you in the airport. Was just too tired and I didn't want to be bombarded with paparazzi." you reply back. Harry instantly feels guilty by your words. He hates that you have to suffer long days when traveling with him or being harassed by paps but you always tell him time and time again that you wouldn't have it any other way. You love getting to travel with your husband.
Harry puts aways his carry on bag and gets situated beside you in his seat. He's wearing gray sweatpants and a hoodie and his hair is slightly damp from the shower he took back at the arena. He looks sexy in better terms, even with the heavy bags under his green eyes.
For the next few minutes you both sit upright in your seats as you go through the normal protocol for flying in private jets. Then once that was done and you've made it into the air safely, Harry begins to recline his seat and situates the blanket you'd brought for him over his long body.
"You're too far away." Harry whines, seeings as the armrest made a divide in your seats. You sit up a bit and push the armrest down so that there wasn't a gap. Then you slide your body over until you were cuddled into his side.
"Better?" you question.
"Mhm, much. Love you." he answers and kisses the top of your head that's laid on his right shoulder.
With your bodies close and the overhead lights dim, you and Harry fall into a cozy sleep as you make your way to the film festival in Italy.
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(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT’S FREE SO JUST DO IT)
tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @japanchrry // @harryhoney-bee // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @bohogothic // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyle  // @haarrry // @michellekstyles // @wherethehellhaveyoubeenharry // @stallrry // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin  // @gublerscherry // @yousunshine-youtemptress  
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My Masterlist Masterpost
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tpwkwriter · 2 years
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Tour bus blues.
• even the biggest of stars get nervous before shows :/
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It wasn’t often H felt nervous or anxious before a show, but when he did it was awful to see, his eyes which so normally so full of life and love were filled with a layer of gloss and worry.
Where his hands would normally wrapped around your waist or shoulders they would nervously be fiddling with the rings that sat perfectly on his fingers.
It was ‘one night only’ in New York, you and Harry’s team were backstage of the UBS arena frantically getting ready for the show, apart from Harry was no where to be seen.
It wasn’t until after 3 missed calls y/n was starting to worry, ‘cmon answer H please” she’d sigh while biting her nails in pure stress
“Any luck?” Jeff would ask
“No, none at all, I’m gonna go look for him” she’d stress.
While leaving the arena, not only the cool breeze of air hit her, but the sound of screams and chants of fans queuing up did, Thank the lord they were round the front and couldn’t see her, otherwise she would’ve been trapped in an obstacle course of fans.
Her eyes land on the tour bus, which is where they all spent the most time, she was hoping H was in there.
She creaked the door open and stepped inside revealing the dimly lit row of bunks inside.
“H? Babe you in here” she crooned
No reply.
The slid open the door to look in the lounge section of the bus. There it revealed her H sitting on the velvet sofa, hair messy, and head in his hands looking towards the floor.
“Baby” she murmured, with her gaze softening at the sight.
He looked up, eyes glossy and filled with tears, cheeks flushed and hands shaky.
Without a thought y/n rushed over to his side and knelt down beside him putting both hands on his thigh.
“M’baby, what’s got you like this?” She said, moving her hands to cup his face
He closed his eyes, and sunk into the comfort of her touch before answering.
“Cant do it..I cant”
“What if they hate it..the album” he adds
“H, what have I told you? Hmm the world absolutely loves it so far, people cant wait for your tours and shows and future releases”
“I’ve already heard about 10,000 people chanting ‘as it was’, people are gonna love it, in the short 10 hours of the album being out, they already seem to know all the words, hmm?” She continues pressing a kiss to his lips.
“You’ve worked so hard this baby, you deserve it so much” she stood up and offered him her hand to which he gladly accepted. Once the couple were stood up y/n took it upon herself to fix the mans tousled hair.
“Your gonna smash it out there, my pretty boy” she gushes running her hand through his hair.
“Hate bein this vulnerable sometimes” he says a small smile creeping up on his face.
“D’ya not love the extra lovin from your girlfriend huh?” She smiles leaning up on her tippy toes and kissing him once more.
“I love you y/n” he mutters
“Mm love you”
The what was a sweet moment was kindly interrupted by a frantic Jeff who slung open the door to the bus.
“Harry!! Y/n there you are” he pants
“Been looking for you everywhere!, now come on we have 10 minutes till showtime!” He exclaims running straight back out.
A giggle was left between the couples after that.
They locked hands and left to walk back into the arena, you both make into your shared dressing room, while allowing H to finalise getting ready y/n found herself on Twitter and was reading through all the tweets about tonight including the number one trend which was “NYC one night only Harry styles” a smile lands on the girls face at the sight of it.
Her thoughts were knocked when she felt a pair of arms snake around her waist, she leant back into his hold.
“Everyone’s really excited for tonight H, they say they can’t wait to hear the album for the first time live” she informs
He presses a kiss to her cheek. “Cant wait to see them all, excited for them to hear it” he smiles
“That’s more like it, it’s gonna be amazing”
The last 5 minutes were spent telling y/n how grateful he was just to have her by his side no matter what.
With a Goodluck kiss, he was off to start the show.
———
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nolanscheeks · 5 months
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Working the night shift and it’s chill and I’m bored. Also super in my soft thoughts about Jack. Indulge me and send your soft thoughts!!
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Hello, older Steddies (steddies who's been shipping this for way longer than I have), quick question for y'all.
Joe Keery, as I recently found out, is a SINGER. With his own band and stuff.
...I was patiently waiting for Eddie getting flustered over Steve singing to himself headcanons, i-
* pouts * I guess I'll do it myself. Get ready y'all, this has been marinating in my Steddie brainrot for two weeks now.
Steve Harrington is a songwriter and plays piano and I will DIE. ON. THIS. HILL.
The piano thing is something he picked bc he learned that his mother used to take piano lessons as a child, and he wanted to do something to impress her. Turns out, he really like the sounds the piano makes and keeps learning how to play better.
Steve loves the piano bc its one of the few moments in his childhood that his mom pays 100% of her attention to him in order to teach him everything she knew, aka the basics and some classic sheet music she memorized.
Wait no, I'm gonna make myself cry, baby stevie aggressively practicing the classical piano pieces bc maybe if he plays it perfectly, he'll perform it for his mom whenever she'll home, why do I do this to myself.
Let's think of some fluffy stuff about the songwriting first before I sob myself dry.
Lil Stevie, while he was still in his experimental piano phase, before he strictly adheres to sheet music, used to play nonsense lil ditties to himself. Usually stuff he did during his day, like "hmmmm I put on my clothes and I made my bed, hmmmm, put on my socks then put on my shoes~ hmmmm" (I'm really sorry for the shitty creativity, my brain is blanking on what tiny Steve does in his free time except for TV, sports and piano)
Eventually, he starts actually writing lil snippets. Nothing great bc yk he's a kid starting out, but pieces if put together in a coherent and melodic way could have a lot of potential. Tiny lil puzzle pieces with the potential to be something more, something incredible.
Steve's parents never did find out about his songwriting. It was his and his alone, a safe haven where the thoughts of others don't matter. When his parents are away, when the boredom becomes to much, Steve sneaks into the piano room to turn his lyrics into music, for his ears only.
I like to pair this headcanon with another precious headcanon of mine, which is if Steve wasn't trapped in his jock era, that man is a KID WHO LOVES MUSICALS. (Am I projecting my love of musicals onto my blorbo? Mayhaps, but who's gonna stop me?). Every song in a musical elicits so much story and emotion that Steve never lets himself feel in his daily life, its very comforting to listen to songs of characters who know what they want and sing about how much they wants it and how they're gonna achieve their goals. A characters freedom to unapologetically express themselves on stage, not caring if anybody hears (no projecting or intense longing from Steve here, nosiree). All this to say that Steve's songwriting and singing style reflects a lot of musical I Want songs.
Fast forward to high school, his King Steve era, his music is his best kept secret. Vulnerability is NOT an option, so whenever he throws parties at his house, he always ALWAYS makes sure that the piano room is locked, where is notebook of lyrics also reside. There was a period of time where he didn't play piano at ALL because of how much his sports life consumes most of his free time. Sometimes, he feels the itch to write something down, but can't because he's surrounded by a lot of people who would target any sign of softness he shows. Furthermore, Steve becomes less and less confident about his songwriting the more his reputation of a dumb jock solidifies. (WHY DO I HURT MYSELF LIKE THIS-)
Being with Nancy, however, lit a FIRE in him. I'm talking scribbled out lyrics of love songs at night to process his feelings, giddy piano covers of popular love songs, singing the Grease soundtrack in the shower, the WORKS. This boy is GONE, and the only way to process all his emotions in order to appear cool and chill in public is to let it out through music. Its not a foolproof way of processing emotions, bc he's not suddenly immune to doing stupid shit just because he has an outlet (see The Entire Steve-Nancy-Jonathan love triangle business). His honeymoon phase with Nancy definitely produced some of his more structured and polished work bc she inspires him in a positive way. (Nancy'ssosmatthatifSteveisgonnamakesongsabouthertheyhavetobesmarttoobecausethat'swhatshedeservesand-)
After his first encounter with the Upside Down and the breakup after, however??? STEVE'S REPUTATION ERA. His most emotionally driven songs were written at the dead of night when he couldn't sleep because of the nightmares. Frenzied piano notes ring into the night, Steve and the stars its only audience. Boys don't go to therapy, they forcefully beat up their emotions into songs that they would never share with anyone else, and impulsively adopt any child within a 10 mile radius.
(imma skim over season 2, im sorry, truthfully i didnt watch a single second of the show, all i know about stranger things are from steddie fanfics binged over the course of 2 weeks and tumblr gifs, thats it)
The first person to ever find out about Steve's musical hobby is Robin (i know, very predictable, but hear me out). Back when those two are drugged to hell and back, Steve sings out nonsense lyrics that he hasn't done since he was a kid, singing about the what he can see in the bathroom they were resting in. Steve feels VERY STRONGLY about Robin defending Tammy Thompson's singing bc he could literally sing better WHILE DRUGGED. Robin hates that she can't dispute that bc she's heard both. After the starcourt fiasco, whenever robin cant sleep, she sneaks into steve's home and listens to steve playing the piano in order to drown out the nightmares. Steve doesn't sing any of the songs he's written, no matter how much she pesters him about it.
OKAY SEASON 4, LETS DO THIS!!
After Max's first encounter with Vecna at the cemetery, Steve asks for the favorite songs of EVERYONE in the Party, and spends all-nighters trying to memorize every single one.
The first anybody aside from Robin hears Steve sing was when they were panicking about Nancy getting vecna'd. After the iconic THIS!! IS!! MUSIC!! scene, they all stop bc they all hear singing they haven't heard before. They all look up, and are flabbergasted to see Steve singing “Love Is A Battlefield” by Pat Benatar in the most beautiful tenor voice you've ever heard, like an angel beating down the devil's curse. No one is more bamboozled than Eddie, who just keeps staring at Steve while having the most ill-timed gay panic in his entire LIFE. If El were to peek into Eddie's head at all at that moment, all she would hear is the TV static with background noises of gay thoughts at mach 4 speed.
(In this reality, Steve goes along with Dustin and Eddie bc dustin feels betrayed about steve "keeping this a secret from them" and won't stop pestering him. Steve's bi awakening is seeing Eddie shredding Master of the Puppets ofc)
Post-Vecna (Eddie LIVES dammit, fireman carried by steve out of the upside down), Eddie goes to Steve and Robin's place of work and joins her in begging pestering Steve to sing them one of his songs (the first time eddie heard that steve writes his own songs, he had a gay panic so strong, that Corroded Coffin is tired of his bullshit, pull yourself together man, this is getting embarrassing. poor eddie had to self-quarantine in his room screaming in his pillow for two days). Eddie, the upside down trauma newbie, also joins robin to sneaking into steve's house in order to listen to him play the piano. robin had to close eddie's mouth while he was gawking at steve the first time he sees him play piano (bless oblivious sleep-deprived steve, his music is the only thing keeping him sane).
also, platonically, i just love the idea of Steve singing lullabies at the "we just saved the world, lets have a sleepover so that we can take comfort in the fact that everyone is alive" sleepover, and all the kids going to sleep clutching at each other, dreamless and feeling safe at last.
Look, im not creative enough to think of a getting together scene, so we're skipping over to established steddie now, im so sorry.
First time they sang a duet together????? RATED R-18, THE MOST TENDER OF LOVE-MAKING COMMENCES AFTER THEY DUET, I DON'T MAKE THE RULES, I'M GETTING SUFFOCATED BY THE ROMANTIC AND SEXUAL TENSION JUST THINKING ABOUT IT.
Dear lord, steve and eddie both writing songs inspired by the other, DONT TOUCH ME, IM FRAGILE.
STEVE FEELING INSECURE ABOUT HIS SONGWRITING IN COMPARISON TO EDDIE, WHILE EDDIE IS JUST TRYING HIS BEST NOT TO CRY WHILE HEARING ANY OF STEVE'S SONGS FOR HIM, AAAAAAHHHHHH
Epic battles have been fought on what music to play in the car, im talking THEATER LEVELS OF DRAMA. If anybody in the party wants to see the most aggressive of bickering (coughDustincough), all the party has to do is ask who's turn it is to pick the music between them, WEEK LONG PETTY FIGHTS COMMENCE.
NO, BUT STEVE GOING TO ONE OF EDDIE'S CONCERTS WITH HOMEMADE MERCH- STEVE SOMETIMES JAMMING WITH CORRODED COFFIN, IM GOING FERAL-
THE SONG THE NIGHT THEY EXCHANGED VOWS (lemme dream, they could have done this underground or some shit, promise rings and all) IS SOMETHING THEY COLLABORATED ON, AND WILL ONLY EVER BE SUNG AND HEARD BY THE TWO OF THEM.
JUST!!!!! STEVE HARRINGTON SINGING!!!
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cherryjuiceblues · 1 year
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For the sleepover!!
What about something like reader helping Harry paint his nails and vice versa? Just random kisses, accidentally spilling nail polish and taking hours to choose colours🥺🥺
✰ boyfriend!harry no warnings.
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“You’re killing me, darling,” Harry calls from the living room. “Just wanna get pampered, what’s taking you so long?” You laugh to yourself at his melodramatics, as you finish gathering all the things you need to pamper him properly.
“I’m coming!” You call back, voice playfully annoyed.
Harry is sitting cross-legged on the sofa with his head resting on the back whilst he waits for you. When you plonk yourself down next to him, he rolls his head in your direction and flashes you smile. “Finally.” He wiggles his fingers that rest on his knees.
“Come on then, Mr. Impatient. Turn to me.” You bring your legs up too and you sit facing him, mirroring one another. Harry leans in quickly and captures your mouth in a sweet kiss. When he pulls back with an exaggerated mwah!, you can’t help but let out a giggle. Holding his hands you ask, “What colours do you want?” gesturing to the makeup bag full of nail polishes sat between you.
As he tries to decide, you focus on cleaning up his cuticles—a process that Harry begrudgingly lets you do (“Do you really need to bother?” to which you sigh and say, “Do you want me to do your nails or not?”). “I’m not good at picking,” he mumbles, free hand rummaging and making the glass clink together.
“Well you have ten fingers,” you point out. “So lots of opportunity.”
He frowns, “Hey, don’t make fun of me. This is a hard choice…” he pauses when he finds a soft shade of green. “I think this would look really pretty on you.”
You hum, agreeing. “I do like that colour.”
Suddenly he sits up straighter. “Can I paint yours, actually? I wanna put this on you,” he asks, eyes apologetic as you stop your ministrations on his cuticles.
“What’s the rush? I can do yours first, if you like.”
“I’ll mess them up,” Harry admits sheepishly.
So you end up treating your own nails first, cleaning them up whilst Harry sets the green polish aside and continues trying to pick colours for himself. His painting process isn’t as professional as yours, he’ll admit—having to clean up mistakes on nearly every nail. But he refrains from commenting on it, and you find his concentration rather endearing; the way he’s taking so much care over it, holding your hand daintily in his large palm. The seafoam green dries pretty on your nails—you think about the way it matches Harry’s eyes.
And when he’s finished, he sits back looking ever so proud, it makes you lean over and sponge your lips to his. Harry melts into you for a moment but then parts with a gasp—
“—Careful baby, I put my heart and soul into this paintjob!” Despite having nearly let a green drip stain your knee during his process.
You smile, pushing another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I know. Thank you, I love them.”
“My turn now?” Harry can’t hide his excitement. He’s chosen a tender lilac that you already know will look so delicate on his nails.
You nod. “You only want one colour?” Harry considers it for a moment, and then picks up the green he’s just used on you.
“Maybe I’ll have this on my middle and ring fingers.” You smile, nodding again, and Harry captures your mouth in his as you both grin against each other. There’s nothing particular about this moment that has your hearts all mushy—maybe just the complete solace with one another.
“Okay,” you pull away slowly, “hands to yourself now, H, this is a serious operation.”
Harry gives you a small salute before you pull his hand into your own, unscrewing the polish and starting to paint the lilac onto his thumb. He watches you with his face resting in his other hand, wide-eyed and smitten; his turn now to admire the concentration on your face and your much-less-messy application.
Once you’ve finished with one hand and silently ask for his other, Harry leans in, muttering. “Kiss first.” You sigh but kiss him easily, careful to keep ahold of his freshly painted hand so he doesn’t thread it into your hair (he’s done it before).
And maybe you get lost in kisses for longer than anticipated but Harry is sure to have his other hand painted like the spoiled princess you claim him to be.
sleepover tag!
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gingerjolover · 5 months
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You're not Bob the Builder - naomi mcpherson (MUNA) x reader (soft!gf coded)
this comes as a lil side story from mornings :)
synopsis: nomi and joey build soft!gf a vanity and chaos ensues before an early muna!christmas dinner
g's notes: i want so celebrate muna christmas w nomi baby and my bff kelli siiiiiiigh
Warnings: RPF, christmas!, noami and jo being chaotic, no fundamental physical descriptors, reader is soft!gf coded so she/her pronouns/afab?
Your brow is sweating, weight rested on one foot as you stand at the stove, whisking gravy in a medium-sized pot.
"Where do you want this babe?" Kelli asks, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, holding a charcuterie board, an assortment of cheeses and meats, both vegan and not, decorated with fruits and dips paired with edible flowers, an impressive spread made by Kelli herself.
"The fridge I gues-" you start to say cut off by a yell coming from your bedroom.
"Put the hammer down!" "Naomi I swear to god..."
Kelli rolls her eyes, albeit lovingly as she opens the fridge.
"Do I even want to know?" you snort, returning to the stove. Kelli giggles, coming and sitting on the island a few feet away from you, feet swinging to kick your legs softly.
"They're putting together your vanity, I think," Kelli shrugs, popping a grape from a bowl on the counter into her mouth.
"I thought it was pre-built... the box was huge," you shrug gently.
"Nope, I think Jo was going to help set it up in the room and attach the mirror, but it came disassembled," Kelli winces.
"Should've asked Julien," you mumble, getting a belly chuckle out of Kelli, you both know Julien is far better with furniture and building things then either of your partners.
"Who knows, maybe they'll get it done faster because there's two of them?" she shrugs, popping another grape into her mouth and hopping down, getting ready to cut a baguette.
"Yeah, or I'll end up with no vanity and holes in my ceiling or walls," you grumble.
"Oh, don't be like that-" her words were cut off by two deep squeals and the sound of the electric drill, something flinging against the wall with a thump; Kelli's eyes widened.
Kelli moves quick but you move quicker, you shut off the stove and move the pot to an unused burner.
You both climb the stairs, moving to stand in the doorway, Naomi standing shirtless with their back facing you, and hands intertwined on the top of their head. Jo lays on the floor, staring at the ceiling, both letting out small huffs.
"What the hell was that?" you ask, looking down at the floor; you and Kelli's eyes are comically wide as you stare at the scattered vanity pieces all over your bedroom floor.
"Hi, babydoll," Naomi says casually, walking over to you, brushing your hair back, and placing small kisses on the crown of your hairline. Naomi's hair is tucked into a baseball cap, small curls peeking out the sides, sweat running down the middle of their torso, and the windows cracked open, letting a welcomed breeze into the room.
Jo groans from her place on the floor, tank top riding up slightly, visible sweat on their forehead.
"Why are you sweaty?" Kelli asks, eyebrows scrunched.
"Because Naomi ordered a fucking whack ass piece of furniture and-"
"I didn't, Jo! It's not my fault it didn't come with instructions--" Noami refutes, both of them starting to bicker again, Noami rubbing their hands over their face.
"Wait, it didn't come with instructions?" you ask, jaw dropped slightly as you stare at the half built base of the vanity.
"Maybe we should call JB," Kelli mumbles; Jo and Naomi whip their heads towards her.
"Bite your tongue!" "Take that back!"
Kelli puts her hands up, eyes widening as she fights a smile, "Okay, okay, sorry... didn't mean to touch a nerve..." she says, her tone filling with humor.
"We can do this, we- we can do this, Naomi, we don't need Julien... we can build this thing ourselves," Jo says, standing up and gesturing between themselves and Naomi. Jo's tone is almost as if she's trying to convince herself and Noami simultaneously.
"Yeah, fuck yeah... we can..." Naomi starts, turning to look back at you with a lopsided smile. "I can build... a vanity, baby, I can," Naomi says, trying to convince you.
"Right, yeah, I totally believe in you..." you say, tight smile as you look at the dent in your wall, eyes widening again.
Jo looks at you sheepishly, hands coming out in front of them, "I'll fix it," they say quickly as Naomi speaks over top of her, "It was an accident!"
All you can do is shake your head, rubbing the skin between your eyebrows and the bridge of your nose as you look at the bedside table across the room where the alarm clock sits. "People will be here in 6 hours..." you say, biting your lip nervously.
"Jo, we still need to go home and get ready..." Kelli warns softly.
"It's fine...we got this," Jo says cockily, eyes filled with terror as they look towards Naomi, both sharing a look.
"Okay, well... we'll leave you two to it," Kelli says suspiciously, pulling her phone out as you both back out of the room, returning downstairs.
"Please text JB," you murmur once you're out of earshot.
"Already did," Kelli huffs.
BONUS:
"Yo!" Julien says as she walks into the house, Lucy and Phoebe behind her, their partners carrying dishes or flowers into the house. Julien's girlfriend kisses your cheek softly, kissing Kelli and Katie's cheeks before heading into your kitchen; everyone starts chatting as more of your friends arrive.
"So where's the vanity?" Julien asks, adjusting the collar of her dress shirt.
"Upstairs... I don't really know what you're about to walk into... It wasn't finished or stable when Jo and Kelli left to get ready, and I haven't been upstairs since I got ready so..." you smile sheepishly.
Julien winks and pinches your cheek gently before bounding up the stairs.
"Babe? You told Julien?" Naomi yells down, offended. "Kelli, really?" Jo yells immediately after.
"Just let her check your work!" Kelli yells up, making the room laugh at the antics of your partners.
"I'm sure they did a great job," Julien's girlfriend says sweetly, arm around your waist as she leans her head onto your shoulder.
"Tell that to the hammer sized dent in my bedroom wall..." you huff, her hands adjusting the bow in your hair.
"The what?!"
fyi: they did build it correctly, julien just tightened some screws and helped them secure it to the wall, AND jo DID fix the dent in the wall hehe <3
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heartfullofleeches · 1 year
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Oh boy i hope this sends, but I've been getting such brainrot from the museum asks and I had an idea for another type of au. We've had security guard reader, owner reader, and painting reader, but i thought of an art restorer/art historian reader. Basically someone who really cares about the artwork itself and the finer details and history of the art and the process of it being created. I think it'd be really interesting having a reader who's job it is to go fix the broken works, think about the attachment that the peices that they fix would have. The art would think reader is so gentle and caring, so careful with them and mending them back to their original state before they where ruined. I still think the rest of the museum would come to love them too, they would hear about how much reader cared and would grow attached too, some may even rip themselfs apart in hopes of having readers loving hands mend them back together creating marks that the reader made embedded into them forever. But I feel like the original peices inside the restoration closet that we saw in the owner reader ask would have a stronger and more protective attachment to the reader. The ones who were thrown into a closet and left to rot inside a dark crowed closet only to be saved by their savior and painstakingly put back into their former glory would never allow anything to tarnish the one who saved them.
"Alright, let's try you again."
You insert the crescent shaped key into its designated hole. Twisting the handle, you wind the clock until no longer able; inner mechanisms taut round the key's bronze teeth. Pulling it free, you wait the results of your experiment with fingers crossed. The clock slowly whirls to life; wooden hands gravitating towards the center of its spilt chest as its head sinks forward. You celebrate your success with a pat on the back; congratulating yourself too soon as everything unfolds before your eyes.
The clock stops halfway through its greeting; body twitching and jerking as it fights to complete its given function. The convulsions and angle it hangs at damages the adhesive keeping its faceplate in tack; the panel falling to the ground with a loud clack. The gears of its left arm snap under the stress and join its other part on the floor. Nearing the end of the cycle, the clock stops moving completely and stands still.
"No. No. No!" You scramble across the floor to pick up the pieces, checking for any damages as you carry them over to the table. You sigh in relief and frustration as you look at the tools scattered across your workspace. "I really thought I had it this time..."
You set the parts down and accept your defeat. Your job was both the occupation of your dreams, and your nightmares. Head of the restoration team for the town's art gala, as well as its sole member. All your coworkers left within the span of the first year, but it's not like you mind. Their departure only left you alone with the art works. Fragments of history and creative minds that you alone had the honor to restore. There were some hurdles with mediums you'd yet to figure out, but you'd tackle them on your own or the begrudging assistant of others. The current object of your fixations was a piece of said status, and you worked until closing to try things your way before the repair team came the following morning. You look at the clock with guilt embedded into your soul.
It was human in shape; crafted of polished wood, glass, and metal. A perfect union between machine and nature. Housed in its torso was a clock hidden behind a leather corset which could be opened by inserting the key into the carved heart on its chest. Its face was made up of the image of a sun with closed eyes and rays over lapped in the center; producing a sun dial when opened. The rays were made of twisted metal and colored glass between each knot.
When the clock was wound, its tended function was to bow before the keyhole as it opened its chest cavity. The action would be followed up by it opening its face so that the sunlight may hit the hidden dial. Its creator supposedly worked by an open window and that was his preferred way to tell the time.
You step back over to it, examining its remaining hand. Only two fingers were in tact, and there was some chipping paint caked beneath its nails. You scratch away the crimson and meet its face with an apologetic smile.
"Well, I know it wasn't ideal, but at least we got to spend more time together today. The guys who can do what I can't will be in tomorrow."
You kiss its steal cheek and grab your things as you head out; wishing the other pieces in the room a goodnight on your way. Poor things. Before you came they were just locked in the storage room to rot or eventually be displayed in betrayal of their former glory. As you walk through the empty gallery, you read over the clock's documents that you had captured on your phone. Its origin was apparently France; belonging to a lonely clockmaker who had dealt with the passing of his family the year prior. Its rumored to have been made in memory of his spouse who had to reminded him that life didn't evolve around his craft. He may have forgotten to kiss them goodmorning each day, but he always made sure it tend to his clocks.
Your phone clatters to the floor as you bump into the door. You try its handle. Locked. Made since due to it being after closing, but that was just rude. Your boss did tell you not to stay after work.... No matter, it's not like you were there for the overtime. You reach into your bag for your keys.
What?
You shake the bag around, but you can't hear their jingling. You search through; shaking the bag harder incase they under all the clutter - but they aren't there. Losing your keys now was probably the worst of times with the recent report of a break in.
"Shit... I must've left them in the office." You hurry back to your post, stopped by a sound from the neighboring hall. It seems like nothing at first - till you make out the laughter. You speed up your return - back at the door in a quarter of the time it took you to reach the front door. You legs ache from climbing three flights in record time, but you didn't feel like going all the way down the lobby to the elevator. Grabbing the doorknob, you overhead part of a conversation as you crack the door.
"The dawn is so far away... I miss them already."
A muffled reply.
"Ah, don't give me that. If anyone feels bad about ruining their hardwork me."
Another, this time in a different tone.
"You're all just jealous. You'll get your turn soon so be patient."
You ease the door open more.
"We'll tell them what you did."
The main speaker snarls.
"You wouldn't dare... As if you had no part in it."
You peer through the crack; ready to face the potential danger, but unprepared for what you witness. It's difficult to see, but you can make out shadows moving along the walls in the same placement as the paintings waiting to be restored. To your horror, you realize they are just that; the object of each piece brought to lift in a different form. Their imperfections carry over. A king's upper face distorted by smudges made by rain water. A maiden's left side burnt off and discolored like a charred piece of paper.
The paintings center their attention of the mannequin in the middle of the room attaching an arm back to their wooden body. The clock. It back talks to its fellow inhabitants as it repairs itself; the detached limb miming a talking mouth.
"All you lot ever do is whine. The bond between Y/n and I is apparent and as powerful as new dawn, but we are all important to them and we must make sure our doors always remain open to them."
You pull your hand away from the door; unsure of your next course of action. Your phone sits in your hand, emergency services at the dial, but this really didn't seem like something they could handle. As if the situation couldn't get worse, the clock doll notices your keys on the table. They pick them up, porcelain eyelids drawing back as they examine the company issued key ring.
"These... are theirs."
The room kicks up in commotion.
"Something of Y/n's? Give it to me!"
"You sound like that Scavenger on the first floor, but for good reason."
"They're mine."
The clock holds up a finger. "Hush. Don't you realize what this means? Since these are here... That means they are too."
It turns its head towards the door. Something tells you that if it could've smiled - it would've. It sticks something into its chest that looks like an amalgamation of scrap; turning the makeshift key as it draws close. With no other choice, you close the door right as its face appears in the crack. Your barricade rattles in its frame as a heavy fist makes contact. You both know it won't last long.
"Y/n... Sunshine~ Open the door. I'm sorry I didn't work right for you earlier. I just want to spend as much time with you as possible. Although you're playing keep away, it feels so good to talk to you. We all have waited to speak with you for so long.."
Through the banging, you can hear their call.
"Don't go... Come in, give us new life so we can use it to welcome you."
"Can tonight be my turn? Make me reborn in your image."
"We love you. We need you."
"This is your home, Y/n." The clock concludes. "Nobody appreciates your craft more than us. Your talents here are worshipped."
Your grip on the door loosens. It slips from your hands before you can realize. You fall to your knees, but there's hands waiting to pick you up. They've always been there - hiding in plain sight, longing for the day they could hold you. With another night at it end in the gallery, their embrace would forever remain.
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