#Fem!Lars

[duffsmckagan]

Fem!Kirk (Kimberley “Kim” Lee Hammett) is an adorable cinnamon bun like her male counterpart. She’s got cutesy moments with her band mates Jamie, Lara, Claire, Jaye, and Roberta (Especially Lara). With Lara they have a ship name (Klara). Just like Klars, they kiss, hug, look at each other with that “awe” look, and have no problem undressing in front of each other either. It pisses off Jamie. Kim and Lara don’t care though. She’s a vegetarian too as she considers cows her friends.

Kim: Have you considered going vegetarian?

Lara: Um, no.

Jamie: (Eating a hamburger) No.

Kim: You two should consider it.

She’s a funny gal too

Kim: (Has a cigarette in her belly button) Hey, Lara!

Lara: (Chuckles) Um, Kim, what are you doing?

Kim: I’m pregnant!

Claire: Aye, Jamie, check this shit out! Kim’s got a baby in the oven.

Jamie: Huh, I always thought Lara would be the first to pop out babies.

Lara: >:(

Kim: I’m just fucking around. I make my man wear condoms.

She’d be shipped with either Lara Ulrich 💅 ❤️ or Cliff or James 🔥. Why Cliff or James? Because both dated girls who kinda looked like Kirk.

[breezypunk]

Maggie from @a-pirate! Thank you for all the gorgeous shots of my #1 girl, I love them! ♥︎

[quinngefail]

[TAKE TWO. COZ THIS POSTED BEFORE I WAS DONE EDITING IT RHGHHHH]

But uh.

Okay :) Folds hands together :) Steamy thoughts with the Chainshipping ladies :)

Putting a cut, it centers around very passionate making out- so like. Nothing super explicit. But still lmao, just in case ^_^

[Gonna ramble a bit to set this up lol. So uh I was thinking about one morning with the two of them, before Lorraine has to leave for the day. She's all dressed, while Addie's still in sleepwear; she's never been a morning person, but still gets up to spend some time with Lorraine, and say goodbye and and all that. Then she'll go the fuck back to bed for at least another hour or two LMAO. But anyway they're in the doorway, and Lorraine says that she'd like to give Addie a little something before she goes. And Addie assumes this means the little 'thing' they've been doing, where just before they part ways, they'll take turns kissing each other's cheeks. So Addie happily closes her eyes, and turns her head to the side for her kiss. It's then that she feels fingers gently take hold of her chin, and tilt her head back towards Lor.]

"Oh, no, darling... You deserve more than that,"

That hand then trails down to Addie's shirt collar, and begins to pull her towards the closest wall. "Stand right there, and face me." Lorraine lightly commands, giving a gesture to the floor. While Addie's heart was already starting to beat out of her chest, she does as she's told with no hesitancy. Lorraine never exactly had to tell her twice when it came to these sorts of things, after all.

"Mm," Lorraine hums in approval. "Good girl,"

Those words alone sent a surge of arousing chills through Addie. It was her weakness, and of course, Lorraine knew it. Giving a satisfied smile at her work, she began to move in closer... And up until now, Addie never thought there could be seduction in something like hanging a cane on a nearby coat hook. But, like with countless things, it was Lorraine Gordon who could prove otherwise; acting with a slow, provocative sort of grace, before turning her attention back to her beloved, flustered darling.

Suddenly, she clutched two haphazard handfuls of Addie's t-shirt, and crashed her larger form against her, leaving absolutely no room between them. Addie, now utterly pinned, hardly had time to gasp before her lips have been captured in Lorraine's. Between the stiffening of Addie's body, and the tipping of her head, the difference of their heights are null as Lorraine continues her passionate barrage of kiss after kiss. It's not long before she's lost course, diverting from Addie's lips to her cheeks, nose, chin, neck... It hardly mattered to either of them, though, as they fell further and further into heavy, heated desire, hands wandering lower, and lower, until...

Lorraine has to fully pull away, her reddened face bearing a breathless, proud grin. Addie, on the other hand, has to keep her flushed, disheveled, lipstick-stained self from completely collapsing.

"H... Holy fuck," she breathes out. "P-please, Lorrie... More,"

But, as Addie begins to lean in, a finger is pressed to her lips.

"Tonight, dear." Lorraine smiles. "I'm afraid I have to leave now. But," she trails off, and lowers herself to Addie's ear. "Just consider this something for you to think about today. Okay...?"

Addie wants to object, as the warmth of Lorraine's body parts from hers. She wants to pull her back, wrap her arms around her, and let the time slip away from them. She wants the both of them to just go back to the bedroom, and continue there. She wants to see where arousal will take them this time. She nods, though, with a quick sigh. "Yeah, alright. Tonight, then."

With a pleased nod in return, Lorraine retrieves her cane, gives Addie's cheek one last peck, and the two say their goodbyes for now.

However, once alone, it doesn't take long at all for Addie to realize something. She's been left with a sort of gift, intentional or not. Because while the lipstick washed away, something else remained... The unmistakable smell of Lorraine's perfume, tortuously clung to her body.

...Fuck.

[accihoe]

Masterlist

Dave Mustaine Mixed Berry Smoothie Wanted Dead or Dead Beautiful Thick Moonlight Roses On Your Grave Come Here And Let Me Hold You

Kirk Hammett Happy Birthday Hair

Cliff Burton My Baby Peaceful Easy Feeling The Feline Emperor Kiss Me

James Hetfield Still The Most Beautiful to me

Draco Malfoy The Joker And The Queen Beau Time Of The Month Deez Nuts Christmas Season Birthday Boy Arranged Marriage Arranged Marriage pt. 2 Birthday Boy (Again)

Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier Picture Perfect This Time I'm In It For Love 1 Ocean Bomb Hot Chocolate Domesticated Rockstar Deputation Gone Awry Even At Your Darkest Hour Meeting The Family Case Study 1 Under The Bridge

Anthony Kiedis Migraine Birthday Boy

Steven Adler Fallin' For Ya

Duff McKagan Flight or Fight

Bruno Madrigal Unexpected

[wanderingaldecaldo]

📸 by @a-pirate | comm detes

Finally Friday

[riisume]

Doodles Lars as a woman on a whim... I might have to draw her more often...... 😳

[girlwifteef]

"The Real RomCom" Kirk Hammett x Fem!Reader

Summery: You and Kirk are talking and clear the air of any awkwardness on why you’re so shy and bond :P (fluff, fluff, fluffy, fluff.) (also not proof read)

TW: Alcoholism, mentions of drugs, name calling, anxiety, language.

PT 3

1984-85 Kirk Hammett

Your conversation migrated back to the kitchen where you both are now sitting opposite from each other on the counter top drinking water.

“I knew you guys were before I came here.” you embarrassingly admitted. It is an every day that you meet a famous band. You were shocked you were going through telling Kirk this, but here you are. “ as you can see, I have a great taste in music.” You jokingly boast pointing to your shirt. The only way you knew how to hide your anxiety was to laugh your way out of the situation.

Kirk left at your sarcasm, “Yep, I’m well aware.”

“I’ve been reading about you guys too. Listening to the music was awesome but I like reading what makes up the band, you know?”

Kirk quickly agrees with you, “Yeah absolutely! I do the same thing with music and movies. But why didn’t you say you were a fan?”

They were it was. The question you were dreading the whole night, “why are you so quiet?” you thought, “does she speak?” there is no denying you had social anxiety, but you didn’t like having to blow out about it when someone decided it was a problem. You didn’t want it to be anybody’s business because you’re the one who has the problem. You have several lines you have picked out when the situation in springs itself onto you. Most of them, being sarcastic, rude, and snarky with a dash of smart ass. But you knew now that you wanted to be honest with the guy you like. “ Well, I have some anxiety when I’m at parties, which is a big reason I don’t go to them, Beck does, though, all the time.” You say, trying to keep your voice loud enough so Kirk can hear you but quiet enough that other people can’t.

Kirk understandably nods, taking a mental note that you don’t like party’s. “I know it doesn’t seem like it but I don’t like being around people all that much either.”

You blink at his words, “But you’re a performer. You’re constantly on stage in front of thousands of people.”

“Yeah, but the talking part is my downfall.”

You tilt your head back while making an “ooo” sound. “Well, you’re not doing too bad right now.”

He chuckled catching your tone, “Heh, thanks. I could say the same. Could.” He smirked.

You let out a laugh, “Wow. Thank you so much Kirk, my anxiety is cured.” Lightly nudging his leg with your foot, you realize what song started to play. “Hey I know how to play this song!” You yelled over a very loud version of “The Trooper”.

Kirks eye were as wide as saucers, “You play?!” He asked, shocked and impatient waiting for your answer.

You nod quickly, “yeah on my guitar!”

Hearing this, Kirk wasted no time jumping from the counter, taking your hand and pulling you out of the kitchen. “Whoa, whoa, slow down! Where are we going!?” You laughed as Kirk and you ripped through the swinging doors and b-lining for the stairs. Barely missing the people you both were zipping passed

“You’ve got to be the coolest fucking chick here. I’m gonna show you something.” He said taking two at a time up the stairs. You never read anything saying Kirk had agility, you were impressed.

You quickly pushed the thought away as Kirk had almost run into someone as you approached the top of the stairs. “Holy hell Kirk, slow down! You’re gonna kill someone!” You cackle as you hear a faint apology leave him.

By shear luck, you both make it to the top of the stairs in one piece. You catch Beck’s curious eyes. “Don’t mind us!” Kirk yelled, whilst everyone now minding us. Not knowing in the moment how to respond to Beck, you shrug your shoulders as Kirk pulls you out of sight.

-Earlier after Beck’s chat with Lars:

Lars plopped down onto the couch with Beck sitting in the love seat across from him. “Beck I swear we were just having fun- Ow!” James and Cliff look up from the conversation they were having.

Beck cut off Lars’ statement by chucking a pillow at him. “I don’t wanna fucking hear it, I told you that she doesn’t drink like that and it wouldn’t help.” She yelled pointing her finger in an accusing way at Lars, in result made him sink lower in to the seat.

“What the hell did you do now Lars?” James asked shooting a questioning look over to his friend. Lars opened his mouth to defend himself but was quickly interjected by Beck, “You’re drummer got my best friend drunk because he thought she “needed it”. You don’t know how she get when she’s drunk! It can be a serious hand full sometimes.”

“Dude it’s not like I drugged her!” Lars spat.

“I don’t fucking know that!” Beck fired back.

“Well I’m sure she’s fine now, Kirk’s got her downstairs, so could you both please. Chill the fuck out.” Cliff supplied, quieting the “brats” of the group as Kirk put it one day. Beck and Lars gave each other a glare before sulking quietly in their seats.

“Do you guys want to play Gin or do you wanna continue hating each other?” James asked. Beck gave a final look to Lars as Beck sighed and got out of her seat to play. Lars following suit and ironically, forcing to sit next to her. “Okay,” James began. “We all know how to play yes?” Beck, Cliff, and Lars all nod. “Great, Cliff you’re on my team.”

“What? Why do I have to be stuck with her!” Lars whined, like a child.

Beck whipped her head towards him and scoffed, “Fuck you, deal with it!” She yelled.

Lars shook his head and brought his elbows to the table so his arms could hold his head up. “Let’s just play.” He said admitting defeat which gave Beck a small sense of pride.

“So, it’s regular Gin but each set you make your opponent has to take a shot, for each run you make your opponent has to take a double shot.” James explained. They all nodded and began to play with Lars passing the 10 cards on either side of the table. It’s not even halfway through the first round when James knocks on the table.

“Fuck already?” Beck asked, not believing they’ve already gotten their cards sorted out.

“What do you wanna do now?” Lars asked Beck, there really wasn’t much they could do at this point, they barely had a set and the run they were trying to make looked pitiful.

“Well throw that one away and let’s see what we get.” Lars nodded and did what he was instructed. The card he pulled didn’t work in their favor.

Lars lowered his head, “Fock.” And Beck agreed. They knocked indicating they were done and they all laid their cards out. You couldn’t believe the luck Cliff and James had. Two sets and a run.

James grabbed the vodka and two shot glasses, “Read’ em and weep ladies. Time to drink.”

Smirnoff, Beck thought, of course. Lars and her both let out a defeated grumble as the reached for the glasses. Cliff poured the first, “Whoa, whoa, easy!” Beck held up a hand but Cliff stopped when he felt like it. Lars sighed with Beck and tapped the glass on the table before forcing the liquor down their throats.

Lars put his glass down first, “This was more fun earlier.” He pouted. Beck elbowed him as Cliff poured another tall one. This one was downed then two more, taking their punishments like champs they set their glasses down.

“Okay, again. This time we’re gonna win.” Beck stated catching her breath with Lars agreeing. James set it up and Cliff dealt the cards. Drone then on the game went like that back and forth. Soon, they were all too tipsy to even remember the game’s name and Beck completely forgetting her best friend down stairs.

“Ha! A red Ace!” Lars yelled drunkenly, “Go Fish!” Everyone laughed out loud.

“You fucking idiot, this is Black Jack!” James snorted, reaching to smack Lars and Becks cards.

Beck was pulled from the conversation when she heard what sounded like a stampede of buffalos up the stairs. “What the fuck?” She said turning her attention towards who was at the stairs. Her eyes were darting back and forth, struggling to stay on a still object. Oh, it’s Y/N, she thought. Why was she being dragged by someone who looks like Kirk?

“Don’t mind us!” Beck heard. She saw you shrug and disappear. “Well, ok then.” Lars said and everyone started laughing again as Beck hadn’t realized they had caught everyone’s attention. Beck went back to conversing with the group as her subconscious mind reassured her you were ok and with Kirk.

END OF PART 3!!!!!

A/N: Um let’s pretend that I didn’t just ignore everyone for half a year 👀. I hope you enjoyed, I’m currently working on Dave stuff so tell me what you want to read. Smut is iffy for me but if you request I’ll keep it in mind. Thank you sm for being this unbelievably patient.❤️❤️

Tag-list: @mybloodyvalentine09 , @lunesispunk , @kirkslov3r

[highvolumetal]

The Five Obstructions , Lars von Trier , 2003.

[ugh-my-back]

📸: @a-pirate 💙🖤

[j-did-reading]

eeeEEE!!! This fic for real has me grinning ear to ear. I love the relationship, I love the story and I LOVE the writing 💕💕

Ghost Boy (Lars Pinfield x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You and Lars have a pretty contentious relationship. Until you don't

Words: 3.1k

Basically some fun enemies to lovers stuff

“What is this?”

You looked up from your laptop, fingers stilling on the keyboard. Dr Lars Pinfield, the bane of your existence and the most combative towards your work, was standing over you, holding up a phone. The screen was playing a video, a TikTok edit of him around the lab playing with one of those viral songs.

“A video,” you replied with a small shrug.

“Why would you post this to the internet?” he demanded.

“I’m the lab’s social media manager. What do you want from me? I’m giving the people what they want,” you replied, already tired of the conversation.

Lars had never understood the point of you in the lab. You weren’t a scientist like the rest of them, but you were a one person communication team, educated in science communication and marketing. You were there to ensure their reputation continued to soar and they continued to get funding for their experiments and tech. It was a pretty simple concept. You let the world know how cool they were, and they could continue doing what they wanted.

Lars hated it. He’d made it clear that he thought there was no point to you being there and that you only got in the way of the real science. He hadn’t realised how the modern day functioned in so many ways. You were the one writing the press releases. You rewrote the grant applications that got them money. You explained exactly what it was they were doing so people couldn’t complain about their secrecy.

In truth, it was your dream job. You got to hang out with all kinds of paranormal phenomena and then show the world how cool the lab was. Your friends had grown tired of you constantly talking about, and yet you couldn’t stop. So for one of the scientists, the one you probably admired the most in the entire lab, to be so dismissive of your work was crushing.

“No one wants this,” he snapped.

“Really?” You raised a single eyebrow at him, “videos and photos with you in them perform the best. People demand to know who you are. They want more of you. So I made a tongue in cheek video acknowledging that. It is our best performing video.”

You were never going to admit that you fully understood why people liked the video so much. You felt like you might be half of the views by yourself. You’d never admit it, but that nerd had something about him. If you didn’t know any better, you might think you had a crush on him. Which would just be stupid.

“You’re meant to be telling people about the science,” he said, “that’s why you’re here. Not for this shit.”

“That shit is the foot in the door that gets people in to listen to the science,” you replied, waiting for him to understand something he never would.

“No one is listening to any science with this,” he snapped.

“What’s wrong, Lars? Does getting attention from women scare you? Not used to it so you don’t know how to react?” You laughed.

He scowled at you before storming off, muttering under his breath, most likely insulting you. You rolled your eyes, going back to the press release you’d been working on before he’d interrupted you. Something crashed in the background and you rolled your eyes again.

The next time he found you, you were filming in front of the containment units, explaining how proton streams were used in the trapping of ghosts. His phone was thrust in front of your face and you sighed.

“What is this?” he demanded.

“Hello to you too, Lars. Is the science cooperating today?” You smiled sweetly up at him.

“You posted another one,” he snarled.

“The ladies were clamouring for it. I can’t disappoint our audience,” you replied, “now if you’ll excuse me I’m trying to talk about actual science, Lars. You probably don’t understand it. What I’m doing is very complicated.”

You gently patted him on the shoulder, giving him a faux commiserating look. His scowl darkened and you pouted up at him.

“Stop doing this,” he said.

“I hate to tell you this, ghost boy, but people like pretty people being the ones to tell them stuff. So I’ll keep posting your pretty face, and then they’ll listen to me be smart with the science. ‘Kay?”

“No, not “’kay”.” He used air quotes which made you glower up at him, “I’m the scientist. I’ll talk about the science.”

“Sure. How about you take over? I’m sure I’m not nearly as good as you at explaining proton streams without using all that technobabble you like so much,” you said, stepping back from him to let him take over the video.

“I don’t have time for this. I’m doing actual science,” he said.

“Whatever you say, ghost boy. But your fans will be disappointed,” you said with a small shrug.

He looked to the camera then back at you, adjusting his glasses on his nose. You offered him a winning smile and he shook his head.

“Fine. You’re probably getting the science wrong anyway,” he said.

You grinned to yourself as you skirted around him, standing behind the phone set up with the ring light. You gestured for him to start speaking but he looked at you blankly.

“I was explaining how the proton streams capture ghosts,” you said.

“Well, they’re made of a stream of positively charged ions which counters the negative charge of the ghosts,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing.

“Sure, and what are ions?” you asked.

“Ions are just atoms or groups of atoms that are charged positively or negatively,” he replied, “obviously ours are charged positively.”

“And how do they get that way?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. You could feel the smirk on your face, his obvious frustration only making the moment sweeter. You sauntered back into frame, shoving him over to stand beside him, looking into the camera.

“So atoms are made up of three things. Protons, which have a positive charge, neutrons, which are neutral, and then you have the electrons which have a negative charge. The protons and the neutrons are together in the middle of the atom as the nucleus, and then the electron orbits around the nucleus. Depending on how many protons and electrons their are, atoms can have different charges, which is how they bond together into molecules,” you said, turning to look at him at the end to see how he was reacting.

“Everyone knows that,” he scoffed.

“Do they?” you asked, “not everyone pays attention in their science classes. Plenty of people don’t even turn up to them. Start with the basics and build up to the more complicated stuff.”

He rolled his eyes but he gestured for you to continue.

“Right, so if ions are made up of atoms then the charge is to do with how many protons and electrons those atoms have. Our proton streams use positively charged ions, meaning there are more protons than electrons,” you said, back to the camera.

“Our proton packs can strip the electrons from the atoms to positively charge the proton streams. And because ghosts are negatively charged, the proton streams hold them in place so we can lower them into the trap which holds them until they can be brought to a containment unit just like this one,” Lars said, gently patting the red metal door behind him.

“So there you go, Gina. That’s why you always see the ghostbusters with those massive backpacks on when they’re running around the city,” you said.

“That’s it?” he asked, sounding incredulous, “that’s the entire thing?”

“Bite sized science. Short enough to not lose their attention, factual enough that they learn something,” you said.

You weren’t sure how to interpret the look on his face but you didn’t have time to unpack it before he walked off, not even bothering with a goodbye. You chuckled, stopping the recording and taking your equipment back to your desk.

Editting the video, you couldn’t help but smile at the screen. There was something about watching your interaction with Lars that had you laughing to yourself. You shouldn’t have found it as amusing as you did. Something in your chest began to warm as you watched it over and over again. Eventually you had to slam your laptop and focus on something else or else you’d just watch him on repeat.

You had to ignore that it was one of the better performing science explainer videos you’d posted in quite some time.

“Hey, ghost boy,” you said, sauntering up to his desk a few days later.

His eyes were slow to look up at you. You held out the bag of chips you were eating, offering him some. He considered you a moment before his hand slipped into the bag. You rested against the edge of his desk, looking down at his work.

“Whatcha working on?” you asked.

“What do you want?” he asked rather than replying.

“Well, I was thinking since our last video did so well, we should do some more. Between your pretty face and my words we’d be unstoppable,” you said.

His eyes ran over you from behind those thick framed glasses and you found yourself feeling nervous about his answer. It wasn’t like you’d asked him on a date. His answer didn’t matter that much.

“I have better things to be doing with my time. Like actual science,” he replied, looking away from you.

“So you don’t want people to know about what you do?” you asked, “you don’t like talking about science with me?”

You saw a flush climb up his neck. You nudged his shoulder, offering him a wide smile.

“C’mon. We were amazing. Despite your personality issues, we make a pretty good team,” you said.

He muttered something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch. You lent closer, hoping to hear the acerbic comment you were sure he was making. He reared back, as if your presence was offending him, something so disgusting he couldn’t bare it. Your stomach swooped and you drew back again quickly.

“Never mind then. Clearly you’re so much busier than me and don’t have time for anything but nerd shit,” you said, “keep the chips.”

You got out of there as quickly as possible, not sure you’d be able to handle looking at his stupidly cute face anymore. The pressure behind your eyes was allergies, nothing to do with him. And the shame was just part and parcel for working on the internet.

You definitely were not feeling so bad because of Lars Pinfield.

Something made a soft noise as it was placed onto your desk. Raising your head from the cushioned position it had on your folded arms, you found the sweet scent of coffee wafting towards you. You reached for the mug, taking a long drink from it before looking up.

Lars was standing a few steps away, watching you. You gave him a small smile, sipping from the mug again. He readjusted his glasses, still watching you and you weren’t sure how to react. It had been a few days since you’d spoken to him, keeping your distance after the disaster that was your last conversation.

“Thanks, ghost boy,” you said, voice quiet.

“You were practically asleep at your desk. Who else is going to bother the scientists?” he replied.

“Aw, you do care,” you said, “have you been missing me?”

He scoffed.

“Or maybe you’re just jealous that I’ve been bothering all the other scientists instead of you,” you said, hiding your smile behind the rim of your coffee mug.

He couldn’t meet your gaze.

And then it hit you.

“You know my coffee order,” you said, looking down into the mug.

“I’m observant,” he replied, adjusting his glasses again, still not looking at you.

“Careful, ghost boy, or I’ll think there’s some sweetness under all that spice.”

That flush again. You wanted to know what it meant. You stood, ignoring him when he took a step back. Your fingers were soft when they brushed against the flushed skin, warm under your touch.

“What are you doing?” he asked, batting at your hand.

“You’re blushing,” you said.

Your fingers were still resting against his neck. You could feel how fast his pulse was thrumming and when you looked up into his face you found wide blue eyes staring down at you. Pink lips were parted and you felt frozen, caught up in his gaze.

You blink and he tore himself away.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said before quickly retreating.

Once again you were left feeling stupid, like you’d been rejected by your crush. The whiplash was staggering. You fell back into your chair, robotically drinking the coffee he’d made for you. You hated that it was perfect. You hated that he’d run away from you. You hated that he could make you feel like this.

It all came to a head a week later. You’d been avoiding him, and if your gut was right, he was avoiding you too. It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. None of it had been making any sense to you.

You were in the middle of setting up a shot of one of the ghosts when raised voices began to grow closer. You ignored it, used to the outbreak of arguments in the lab. Stress and frustration were not unusual in the parapsychology field.

“She’s making a mockery of us.”

Oh yes, you knew that voice.

“Lars, she’s just doing her job,” Winston said.

“She’s a distraction,” Lars said.

Turning the corner he looked furious. You blinked at him and he blinked back, clearly not expecting you to be right there.

“I hired her for this. There’s been a significant decrease in online outcry about the work going on here. The news hasn’t complained about the Ghostbusters in weeks. People seem to finally be understanding what we do here,” Winston said.

“Everything she does makes fun of us online. No one is taking us seriously here. Have you seen those videos of me she’s been posting? She doesn’t care about the science and she certainly doesn’t understand how important our work is here,” Lars complained.

“Are you kidding me?” burst from you, “do you seriously think I don’t care about this place?”

“I know you don’t. You wouldn’t make light of everything we do here if you did,” he replied, pointing his finger at you, “you have no idea how brilliant we are.”

“Seriously? You were a laughing stock before I got here. I did the research. I know how people talked about you. Because of me people understand what you do here. I write all your press releases so the news isn’t making fun of you. I rewrite all of your grant applications so you have money. I make it clear that what you’re doing here is very serious business and not just fucking around with ghosts. And if you think I don’t care, then you’re not as smart as you think you are. Of course I know how brilliant you are, Lars. I’m the person constantly telling the world exactly how brilliant you are. So don’t think I don’t know because I do. Probably better than anyone.”

He strode towards you, something fierce on his face. You held your ground, not going to be cowed by him again. You were sick and tired of him constantly looking down on your work just because it wasn’t science. He had no right to complain about you or the work you did.

He stopped in front of you and you stared up at him, waiting for the next acidic words out of his mouth. Instead, both of his hands came up to cup your cheeks and he was pulling you in. His lips landed on yours and you felt yourself freeze. He kissed you harder and you melted, hands landing on his chest.

Oh.

So that’s what the flush was about.

It took until Winston cleared his throat for the two of you to break apart. You looked up into his face, at a loss for words.

“I think I’ll leave you two to sort this out between you,” Winston said, “but I doubt you’re going to want her to leave now.”

He chuckled as he left, sauntering away from the two of you.

“You kissed me,” you said.

“I’ll do it again if you’re not careful,” he replied.

“You have to take me to dinner first.” You gently tapped his nose, “or agree to film more videos with me. You do kind of owe me. You did try to get me fired.”

“Fine,” he grumbled.

“Why do you hate them so much?” you asked, “are you actually uncomfortable with scores of women finding you hot? Because if so you should know that I’m one of those women that finds you hot.

“Of course you do. I don’t like the ones about me because it’s not about the science. They shouldn’t care about how I look but about what I do,” he said.

“And the one where we explained the proton streams?” you asked.

“It was so obvious how I feel about you in that one. People were talking about it in the comments. It wasn’t about the science, just speculation about our relationship. And I thought if you saw it you might… realise exactly how I feel about you,” he said with a soft sigh.

“Aw, ghost boy, I think I’ve figured it out.” You reached up, running your fingers through his hair, just like you’d once spent too long imagining doing, “and who cares if they’er speculating about our relationship. They’re still listening to the science as they do it. Foot in the door.”

His hands landed on your hips, pulling you a half a step closer.

“I suppose I can force myself to film some more videos with you,” he murmured.

“I think you’ll like the rewards you get if you do,” you whispered.

“Oh?” His nose brushed against yours.

“How about we do a pilot study right now?” you breathed.

“It’s so hot when you talk science to me,” he said.

Your lips pressed to his again and you sighed into his mouth. You thought you could kiss him for hours, doing nothing but melting into him until you didn’t know where you stopped and he begun. His arms curled around your waist and you found your back hitting the cool glass of the ghost’s prison, pressed against it with his body moulding to yours.

“Your hypothesis seems to be correct. I think I will like my rewards for filming your videos,” he murmured against your lips.

You kissed him again in response.

[duffsmckagan]

A red aesthetic moodboard for James Hetfield and Lara Ulrich.

[unyversc]

𓂅⭒ ♡ kim yeawon 𓏲 ִֶָ

idade: vinte e seis anos. ocupação: clínica geral. sexualidade: bissexual. FC: cho miyeon. | F/M

‹ about ✩ character tag ✩ couple tag ›

[writtenbymoonflower]

Hello hello !!!

I hope you are doing fantastic <3

Could I request a poly!marauders x reader where reader randomly faints in the middle of class after complaining that she felt a little dizzy and the boys comforts her ? (I have no idea if you already wrote for this, if so, I apologize !!)

Lots of love <33

Hi lovely! This isn't super saccharine with the comfort, I hope that's okay! poly!marauders x fem!reader, mondern!au

cw: fainting, swearing

724 words

You sat on the bench outside of your classroom, a half-eaten granola bar crumbling onto your lap when James all but fee-fi-fo-fummed down the hallway towards you, still flushed after rushing here in the middle of practice. 

“Jamie! Be quiet.” You scolded, cutting your eyes towards the open classroom door, the lecture still in progress. 

“Are you okay? Did you fall? Did you hurt yourself?” He knelt in from of you, checking for injury. 

“I’m fine. I was by my chair, my deskmate caught me.” He didn’t look very relieved. 

“What happened, sweetheart?” He pulled his phone out, typing in a number. 

“I just felt a bit dizzy, I have since this morning.” You started. James put his phone down when Remus and Sirius walked through the glass doors. 

“We’ve got the car pulled around.” Sirius scrambled his words out, rushing to you. 

“Remus! Don’t you have work today?” You whisper-scolded. He just rolled his eyes. You went to stand up but all the boys flinched. 

“Careful!” James’ hands shot out to gently push you back down. “Don’t get up too fast.” He beckoned Sirius to cage you on the other side. 

“I was able to walk out of the classroom just fine on my own.” You still took hold of James’ arm and allowed him to walk you out. 

“You’re feeling okay now though, right?” Sirius’ tone was laced with anxiety. 

“I’m perfectly fine.” You reached for him with your free hand.

“Do you know why you fainted?” Remus asked as he pushed the heavy door open, leading you straight to the car. You and James climbed into the backseat, Sirius in the front (it was just like him to never give up his shotgun seat), and Remus driving.

“No.” You could sense the downturn of his mouth without even having to see. “But I’m sure it’s nothing major.” 

“Um, babe.” Sirius was half concern and half sass. “I’m pretty sure that fainting without an apparent reason is very fucking concerning.” You were about to respond but James got there first.

“Why don’t we just backtrack.” He turned to you. “Did you sleep all right last night, angel?” You nodded. “Did you eat today?” You nodded again. “What did you have?” 

“Toast.” You responded. 

“Just toast?” Remus asked severely. 

“It was two pieces. And it’s only just past noon.” You reasoned. He looked displeased but didn’t argue more. James took that as permission to continue his gentle interrogation. 

“Did you have water with that, lovely?” He looked at you, an air of knowingness in his gaze. You rolled your lips in shame. Sirius turned around in his chair to look at you aghast. You knew that Remus was preoccupied with you, since he did not lecture him on seat belt safety. 

“Baby! We literally talked about this yesterday.” 

“Oh like you’re any better.” You scoffed. “If I remember correctly you were also being lectured yesterday.”

“Oi! My water bottle is half empty right now I’ll have you know.” He huffed and turned back around dramatically. You could see Remus rolling his eyes in the rearview mirror. 

“Back on topic please.” He scolded. James took the mantle back. 

“Angel, I think you probably fainted because you were dehydrated.” He said gently. 

“And because you didn’t have a proper breakfast.” Remus scolded. James gave him a look begging for patience and dug through his gym bag. He fished out a full bottle of water and a protein bar. 

“This isn’t much but it will do until we can get some decent food in you.” He handed them over, squeezing your shoulder affectionately. You rolled your eyes, pretending that you weren’t actually very hungry and thirsty. You drank the water in just a few large gulps. 

“Someone’s thirsty.” Sirius deadpanned. 

“Yeah, you. For attention.” You sassed. He turned around, squawking indignantly and swiping at you like a cat. You tried to kick him from your seat but Remus caught your foot. 

“Can you please refrain from fist fighting until we are out of the moving vehicle?” He was trying (and failing) to sound reprimanding. You grumbled. 

“You shouldn’t be fist fighting with the sick and injured anyway, pads.” James said, placing a hand on your thigh. It was Sirius’ turn to grumble. 

“Alright, fine.” Sirius said, faux indigent. “But the minute you’re better, it’s on dolly.”

[wanderingaldecaldo]

When your BFF introduces you to her favorite Christmas Eve tradition of onesies and you go along with it because she's your ride or die.

onesies by @wolv2077 | christmas decor by @bnbc

[riisume]

Tmw none of my self ships/self inserts are hitting cuz I've been having a gender identity crisis again and want to experiment with a genderfluid sona

[wanderingelvis]

firstly, love your work!! second, can you write something about elvis being protective as well as maybe some Memphis Mafia content too? 🎀

i have a few of these requests so hopefully this works for all of them! 🎀🪩🕊️

🧚 Masterlist 🧚

word count: 2,508

pairing: 70s elvis x fem reader

warnings: kinda yandere themes, at least very possessive/protective elvis, manipulation

You’d brought new, fresh light into Elvis’ life. He was deep in his Vegas residency and you were this sweet little thing, bringing soft giggles, affectionate touches and happiness into the International Hotel.

Equally, this purity that you radiated came with a price. Elvis felt a need to protect you, in fact, all of the Mafia did. They were paid handsomely to protect you but even if they weren’t, you tugged on all of their heartstrings and they’d all look out for you, but none more so than Elvis.

Sometimes, he’d take it too far, not that you’d realise. His protectiveness went right over your pretty little head. 

Like the time that he’d kicked out two men from a meet and greet with him after a show because they gave you a “shifty look”, or when he fired a make up assistant for letting you have even so much as a sip of champagne. 

You’d ask about them, where they’d gone as you’d sit on Elvis’ knee and Elvis would plead ignorance, telling you that he ain’t getting involved with none of that personnel nonsense and you’d nod before turning back to your fashion magazine.

It was after a show that you thought was simply magical that you decided you needed to find a way to celebrate that success with Elvis. 

And so, you settled on getting Elvis a cupcake. 

You’d seen a stand of cupcakes as you’d headed into the auditorium before the show, as you’d been escorted in, with Elvis’ stepmother Dee holding your hand painfully tightly, seeing you as more of a burden than a friend. You had wanted to stop to try one of the cupcakes but Dee had yanked your wrist a little too harshly that you didn’t get the chance.

You had wished that you’d be free to roam around on your own but Elvis had made it clear that you were always to have an escort.

He insisted that of course he trusted you, it was strangers he didn’t trust, he couldn’t, he tried to explain to you as you nodded albeit with those adorable pouty lips.

In truth, he knew you were a mischevious and curious little thing, and not only that but you were just a little too naive to be left to your own devices. 

He just knew, if someone tried to take advantage of you, they’d be able to succeed just too easily and to that end, Elvis had made a rule to always be escorted, whether you liked it or not.

But you’d decided you were a big girl, you could surely get a cupcake on your own as a present for Elvis after his amazing show and it would be okay. 

Surely.

So as the crowd roared with applause, you scooted over in the booth to Larry Geller, the latest of Elvis’ entourage.

“‘Scuse me Larry, I, um, I gotta go to the ladies room and then I gotta go n’grab this, um, this cupcake for E, I wanted t’get him this present because, well, see that was such a lovely show, and um,” You quickly realised you were rambling to justify being left alone. “I wanted to get him somethin’ pretty!” You said softly with your big eyes glittering.

“Well, you sure you can go on yer own kid? Y’know I was told that you s’posed t’have someone with yer.” Larry mumbled, not really paying attention to you but watching a gaggle of female Elvis fans that were waving to get the attention of the Mafia as Elvis could be seen heading backstage.

“Oh sure Lar! It’s just the ladies room! I’ll be back in no time!” You said, seizing your opportunity. “Promise!” You giggled, scrambling out of the booth and making your way to the cupcake stand.

By the time you’d reached the stand, shuffling through all the bodies piling out of the auditorium, you were enchanted by all the different pretty cupcakes, delicately iced and decorated individually.

Meanwhile, backstage, Elvis had reached his dressing room only to be greeted by the Mafia and not the one single person he actually wanted to see. 

“Where is Y/N?” Elvis said sternly, looking around the room and missing an absent baby.

“She wanted to surprise you with a cupcake so she went to the stand in the lobby.” Larry informed him, not thinking anything of it. 

And suddenly, the tension in the room went from 0 to 100 as everyone else, more experienced with Elvis’ rules and regulations, especially towards you, knew what a monumental fuck up had just occurred.

“What do you mean she’s gone to the lobby? Who’s with her?” Elvis practically spat, his eyes scanning the room to see no one else missing but you.

“I- I sent her on her own.” Larry stammered, realising the error he’d made.

“Goddamn it!” Elvis shouted, slamming his whiskey glass on the table, causing it to shatter and make grown men flinch. “Go get her now. If she’s noticed and I swear to God, if that little girl is hurt, if any goddamn motherfucker has put their hands on her, I’ll kill all of you with my own goddamn hands.” Elvis roared.

A big group left the room and headed out in search of the little girl who was currently in the hotel lobby. 

“It’s you!” A shrill voice hollered at you just as you’d purchased a strawberry cupcake, making you glance up. “You’re Elvis’ chick,” the elderly lady said, partially to you, partially to her friend next to her as the two older women cornered you, the little thing as you held the cupcake for Elvis in your hands, your eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

“I, um, I-“ You stammered, the poor baby. 

“You are a weird little thing aren’t you?” One of them said cruelly. 

“It’s like what they say in the papers about her being like some kinda little pet of Elvis’.” The other one said, in an observational tone that made you scrunch your eyebrows sweetly in confusion. 

“Wha-“ You managed to murmur before being interrupted.

Because then the pile on started, as the enormous crowd started noticing you.

“Y/N, over here!”

“Is it true Elvis dresses you?”

“Does Elvis control you?”

“Are you really a virgin?” 

“Would ya sign this for me?”

“Who did you screw to get with Elvis?”

With tears swelling up in your big eyes and your big bottom lip jutted out, wobbling as amxiety consumed you, all you had wanted was a cupcake for Elvis. 

But maybe he had been right all along, maybe you did need someone with you at all times. 

“Y/N, come here, come with us!” An older lady said, grabbing your forearm with a pinch, making the little girl yelp.

“No, no!” You whimpered as hot tears started to spill from your eyes and down your cheeks. You cowered, trying to wriggle away from the lady. 

You were close to a fully blown panic attack, not that you knew what the words were for that. You just knew you needed your Daddy. 

“Get away from her! I said move!” A loud voice yelled. You recognised the voice as Red West and saw him and Jerry making their way through the crowds.

Red got the woman off you with ease as you clung to Jerry, petrified of your surroundings.

“S’alright now honey, we’re gon’ get you back to EP, you’re okay now darlin’.” Jerry lovingly reassured, sensing how terrified you were, as you sniffled and were rushed away by him.

Truth be told, Jerry thought Larry was a bit of an ass, he understood why Elvis liked him but he knew he wasn’t the right person to leave you with.

You were quickly ushered into the security room where you saw Elvis, surrounded by his entourage and you wasted no time in running over to him.

“There’s my little one.” Elvis soothed, consoling his baby, rubbing circles in your back as you hiccuped and clung to him. “Breathe now baby, deep breaths f’me. Are ya hurt lil’ one?” Elvis cooed but he didn’t give you the time to respond. “Jer, she hurt?” Elvis almost barked.

Jerry stood there, hands on his hips and shaking his head. “I don’t know, boss. There was a crowd and some old lady was hollerin’ at her when I got to her.” 

“A-a lady, a-a lady grabbed me and um, she wanted to, she wanted to take me away and I- I didn’t wanna, I didn’t wanna go Daddy,” You sniffled oh so vulnerably, letting out the nickname Elvis had instructed you to give him and one that slipped out when you did indeed feel needy.

Elvis felt his heart yearn to comfort you but he was still seething at the massive oversight that had taken place, as well as the fact that you’d disobeyed his rule.

“Honey, you know what our rule is about wandering off?” Elvis said coolly, devoid of emotion as he was trying to restrain his anger.

You nodded your head feebly, your cheeks turning a softer pink at the slight embarrassment you felt from Elvis talking down to you in front of all of the guys. “To not wander off on my own and always tell you where I’m goin’ to keep me safe.” You recited sadly in a soft voice. 

“Ain’t that right.” Elvis said lowly. “So why, did ya think it would be a bright lil’ idea to disobey me huh kid? Y’need me t’spank that sweet little ass right here and now so that y’learn and start listenin’ t’me? Is that what y’need huh?” Elvis chastised. 

You knew all of the guys were uncomfortable but you also knew that Elvis didn’t give a damn, his eyes trained darkly on you and oh boy, did it make you feel the size of a mouse.

You looked around, embarrassed with your wet lashes fluttering as you sniffled a little more, an overwhelming bundle of feelings, including feeling scared, shy, panicked, embarrassed and relieved all swelling in your little tummy.

“Well honey? Y’gon use that mouth little one or do I gotta pull you across m’knee?” Elvis said, taking his index finger under your chin and tilting it as he towered over you, so that your watery eyes could meet his.

“I just wanted to get you a cupcake…” You choked out as Elvis’ brows furrowed with confusion.

“A cupcake?” Elvis said, his expression softening as it so often would whenever you spoke.

You nodded with a pout, your swollen bottom lip jutted out. 

You weren’t intentionally trying to melt Elvis’ heart with those soft, sad puppy dog eyes, you were just naturally so sweet that Elvis couldn’t resist abandoning his threats. 

“Uh huh!” You whined. “See, I saw these pretty cupcakes, the ones, the ones out there!” You exasperated, turning your body to point in the direction of the lobby. “Them ones with the decorations and the icing and I just,” You and Elvis both realised that you were getting all worked up again.

“Baby,” Elvis hushed, rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back. 

He could tell just by your odd albeit cute passion for this cupcake that you were telling the truth and you really didn’t want to be in trouble.

You tried the breathing technique that Elvis had taught you for when you so often get a little too overwhelmed as your breaths got ragged. “M’sorry.” You mumbled.

“S’okay baby,”

“I just, you did such a good show, I mean, y’know  I love every show n’you were just so good n’ all, I just, just wanted to get you a present for it. And, see, the cupcakes were just so pretty!” You whimpered, pleading your case. “I know, I know I ain’t s’posed t’be wanderin’ off, I just really wanted t’get you the cupcake. I promise I ain’t gonna go on my own again, not ever!” You promised, your eyes wide, trying to convince Elvis. 

Elvis looked down at your poor state, he knew it had been a scary experience for you, he just needed to look at the way you were picking at your own fingers, actin’ all fidgety. 

When he looked up to observe the expressions on the Mafia’s faces, he knew they all agreed. His sweet thing meant no malice and she sure as hell had been spooked enough to never want to go anywhere without someone with her — and maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing after all, Elvis thought.

“M’real sorry.” You said softly, calmer now that you’d finally managed to get your words out, even if they weren’t exactly coherent.

Elvis smirked as he saw a cupcake box on the side that you’d clearly put down before you’d run into his big arms only moments before. 

“That the ‘oh so special’ cupcake huh little one?” Elvis said with a smile, pointing his index finger to guide your vision.

You simply nodded, you didn’t really have all that much energy left, you were so overstimulated, you poor thing.

“Jer, hand me that box will ya?” Elvis hollered, with Jerry moving swiftly to grab the box and place it in your hands, the odd sniffle coming from you, observing it all. “Want me t’take a look, dolly?” Elvis asked you, his tone now noticeably gentler than it had been.

“Yup.” Is all you managed to muster as Elvis took your little hand in his big one and guided you to the couch, letting you nestle into his side.

You watched with glassy eyes the man you adored with all your heart open the box, showing a pretty little cupcake, even if it was the tiniest bit battered from all the chaos. 

“Oh baby, how did y’know this one would be my favourite huh? How’d you get so clever?” Elvis cooed, realising his job was now to make you feel better.

“Really?” You squeaked, pushing yourself up from his chest to observe his expression as you bit your finger. 

Elvis grabbed your hand to gently pull it away from your mouth, he never approved of you biting your nails, it would make you sick and that’s the last thing he wanted. 

“That’s right darlin’.” 

“They gave it a name, it’s called ‘The King’.” You said gently before Elvis threw his head back with laughter at having a cupcake named after him. “That’s why I got it!” 

Your whole body began to untense at his laughter and you looked around to see all of his entourage too, laughing at what you’d said, making you feel better.

“Oh baby, whatever am I gon’ do with you hey?” Elvis chuckled, pulling you in to lovingly pepper your face with kisses, eliciting sweet giggles from you.

Despite it being a rhetorical question, Elvis knew exactly what he was going to do with you.

He would never again let you get into such a vulnerable and volatile situation again. He was going to make sure you were always looked after  and always kept by his side. 

Constantly.