#and eventually pointing things out about those two turns into just making fun of who i am

[doueverwonder]

its late. i'm tired of being the gay friend to literally everyone.

[suguann]

an. part two of this | masterlist

You tell him you broke up with your boyfriend while he’s away for work, bunked up in a safe house in the middle of nowhere with shit reception, hearing your words as clear as day as if they weren’t the chopped-up version coming through his burner phone.

“It just…didn’t work out.”

It didn’t work out.

He pretends his stomach doesn’t pleasantly twist because he’d expected it to happen eventually. He’s not happy about it—although it does make the desert heat more bearable in his heavy tactical gear—and tells Soap to fuck off when he comments on it.

It was a one-time fuck because Simon doesn’t date. He’s tried in the past before he met you—the flowers, the late-night dinners—but with him being gone almost every other month (sometimes longer, shorter if he’s lucky), it never works out in the end. Sleeping with you twice would fall under that category, the quasi-relationship kind, and make everything messier than it needs to be. 

Just some fun, no strings, those are the words he promised.

If only he believed them.

He does, for all of two weeks until he’s home again, and it’s summer, so you’re wearing a flowy dress that shows off the long expanse of your legs. 

(He’s a goner—not even sure why he tried to think otherwise.)

That one time he’d promised turns into a second, both of you stumbling into your apartment after a night out. The music from the pub still thumping loudly underneath your floor as he pushes you against the front door, hands in your hair—on your waist, underneath your skirt, down your thigh to hitch it over his waist—teasing your mouth open with a swipe of his tongue across your bottom lip.

You make this delighted little noise in the back of your throat, arching into him, and his hand spans down your stomach, beneath your underwear, to nudge your messy clit with his knuckle, wanting to hear all the sounds you make now that he has you alone. 

A whiny cry of his name rewards him—jeans tightening around his waist at the sound—when his fingers go down, down until they press against your tight little hole, one finger pressing inside slowly. "If I make you cum, I get to fuck you here.”

You smile prettily, and it disarms him. “If you make me cum, you can fuck me however you want.”

Neither of you makes it to the bed, falling asleep on the living room floor instead, the blanket from the couch draped haphazardly over both of you with his arm curled over your waist.

That night had been a slip of judgment, a product of wanting something warm and soft after several months of only having his hand for company.

It happens again and again, and he keeps letting it happen until there’s no more hiding under the guise of just fun because it somehow turns into a lot more than that.

Simon can’t explain how it happens—maybe becoming something he can touch and hold and think about often—but he finds himself in an exclusive relationship with you that isn’t exactly a relationship because he’s unsure of the ins and outs that they entail.

(Always has been.)

His father was a shit role model, and it was always easier finding someone new who didn’t know his name or care about his scars and only wanted a nice fuck. There had never been any point in shooting for something serious when it was always out of the question for him, until now, that is.

He takes you to that over-rated restaurant overlooking the Thames Marcus never brought you to. A picture of you and him with the sunset in the background—your smile almost blinding in the photo—becomes his home screen, and he finds he doesn’t care when Soap has something to say about it.

He lets you do nonsensical shit, like buying small plants for his house that are surely going to die from him being gone before he comes up with the great idea to give you a key. It’s just a key.

(It’s more than just a key.)

Simon finds himself asking if he can come over more often throughout the week, which slowly moulds and shifts into nights filled with things other than sex—sleeping after a long day of work, cuddling on the couch, cooking together, going to the movies—he doesn’t try to make a big deal out of it because you used to hang out all the time without sex. 

(Somewhere, there’s a but in there.)

There’s still no label to whatever this is, and he wonders if you want him to be the first to say the thing you’ve both been dancing around for a little over…he can’t remember, but he knows it’s been long enough for your things to mix in with his at his house. 

Be with me because I’m yours, and you’re mine, that’s what he’s trying to say, and it’s never the right time. Men like him—a little broken, rough, and jagged around the edges sharp enough to cut—aren’t good with words like that.

(That’s what he thought.)

If he hadn’t seen you talking to a guy at the pub, eyes crinkling in that same sweet way whenever Simon makes you laugh, he wonders if he would’ve been the first to break from the start. He knows it’s your job as a bartender to be nice, but his jaw clicks at the sight of the guy leaning over the bar and into your space, almost too close.

The feeling doesn’t go away until he has you spread out on your mattress under him—clothes haphazardly peeled out of the way for him to put his mouth on you—your lips pursed tight around two of his fingers to give you something to focus on as his other hand works between your thighs, pressing down on your tongue when gurgled little sounds slip out.

He teases you with a small, pink vibrator he found inside your bedside table, your legs kicking out and toes curling into his calves.

“Mine. This is mine, love,” he groans, pressing you further into the bed with his weight. “Do you understand?”

You nod, tears pearling and leaking from the corner of your eyes.

“Lemme cum,” you whine, words muffled. “Simon, I want to cum. Please.”

He won’t lie that he’s close after jerking into his fist to the sight of you writhing on the sheets—swears he can feel his heartbeat throbbing against the back of his fingers—takes in your surprised expression when he pushes forward, impaling you on the first few inches of his cock.

His stomach twists from the squeal that escapes your throat, and fuck, your cunt, so hot and tight with little pulses that drive him crazy, only growing tighter when he turns up the speed on the vibrator.

“‘Mm, gonna cum. I’m—”

He grits his teeth as you start to flutter around his cock once he’s rooted inside you. “Go on—fuck—go on, love. Let me feel it.”

You look so perfect like this, like a dream: lips parted into an enticing little O with his name tumbling out in breathy mewls, tits hanging out from the bra he shoved to the side, eyes glassy and unfocused. 

“So fucking pretty.” He kisses your throat, panting into your sweat-slick skin, and it’s not long before he’s falling over the edge with you. 

Next time, he’ll have the courage to tell you: that you’re not someone he calls for a meaningless fuck on the weekend, that Simon misses you when he’s gone and can’t wait to come home, that he wants to try with you—except not when he’s balls deep and trembling inside your heavenly cunt.

But the smile he feels against his shoulder makes him think that maybe…

Maybe you already know.

[itaipava]

— f1 boys: the ones you catch staring at you and the ones that catch you staring at them.

THE ONES YOU CATCH STARING AT YOU. . .

LANDO NORRIS can’t stop looking at you. everyone can see how in love and enchanted by you he is just by the way he looks at you with so much love, affection and a beautiful glow of admiration in his eyes. and honestly he doesn’t care if you caught him staring at you or if someone make fun of him for it, he’ll simply keep looking at you the same way but this time with a lazy smile on his face. you try to maintain eye contact for a while, but his gaze is so deep (and in love) it makes you feel shy and fuzzy inside, and when you look away first, he laughs softly and walks over to you, kissing your forehead and calling you beautiful.

DANIEL RICCIARDO sometimes can’t help it, he’s so mesmerized and intrigued by every little detail of yours that he gets lost in that moment. his bright eyes follow your every move as he makes a mental note of all your mannerisms and quirks and how beautiful you are. and he just realizes he’s staring too hard when you points it out; he somehow looks more delighted at being caught than embarrassed. his eyes have nothing but warmth and love as you look at him across the table, and he instantly leans forward, his chin resting on his palm, letting out a dreamy sigh along with a simple smile, totally undramatic, ‘i think you’re the most beautiful person in the world’ and you might think he’s joking, but he really says it with his heart.

MAX VERSTAPPEN doesn’t understand why, but everything you do is charming to him. even the simplest and most mundane things became more beautiful and light to him after he saw you do them; it’s as if you’ve given a new meaning to his life. and when you turn to look at him after feeling the weight of his gaze on you, all you can do is smile; the way he looks at you with all the attention in the world, his eyes shining with love and compassion but also curiosity makes your heart flutter in your chest. he just pretends he hasn’t been caught looking at you like you hang the stars and moon in his sky. but if you look very closely, you will notice a slight flush in his cheeks; you tease him about it and he seriously denies it, avoiding eye contact, but one accidental look at you amidst the bickering, he’s a goner of course, with a fond little smile already tugging on his lips.

OSCAR PIASTRI has his heart racing and red cheeks as he quickly looks away when he realizes he’s been caught staring at you for too long, and for a while, he looks anywhere in the room even when you try to get his attention playfully, but unfortunately, the lovestruck boy can’t help but steal a few too many glances in your direction when he thinks you’ve looked away only to get caught again.

THE ONES THAT CATCH YOU STARING AT THEM. . .

CARLOS SAINZ blatantly looks back at you, his gaze on your face light and unwavering; so full of adoration and love it sends a shiver down your spine. and when he knowingly asks why you are looking at him, you tell him that you enjoy doing it because he’s so beautiful, to which he can only smile sweetly and say, taking your hand in his, “i like looking at you too... you’re too pretty to be real”

CHARLES LECLERC is one of those who keep throwing glances in your direction, a hint of a smirk tugging on his lips, and when you’re seemingly unfazed, he takes that as a challenge, looking right at you and holding eye contact until you’re the one who eventually looks away; only then, he cracks a gleeful grin, playfully poking your cheek while coolly yet fondly saying ‘cute.’

LEWIS HAMILTON is one of those who notices you staring for a while now but acts otherwise only to suddenly whip around and face you with the goofiest grin. having caught off-guard, you turn away, flustered, and he coos lightly ‘aw come on don’t get all shy on me now’ and cups your face gently to make you look at him so now you’re two smitten idiots, smiling at each other, utterly and hopelessly in love.

[blegh-110]

i. "i was enchanted to meet you" | Sam Monroe

Pairing: older brother's bestfriend!Sam x fem!reader

Summary: Older brother’s best friend! Sam Monroe who you really got to know when you were 15 and he was 17.

Warnings: None

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: This is chapter II of this series where I am using songs from Speak Now, enjoy!

Your sophomore year of high school was great.

One reason being that you had finally made a friend who was in three of your classes; geometry, honors english, and P.E.. 

The second reason being that Sam was in your very last class of the day, introduction to art. 

Neither of you were artists, or even good drawers. But that was what made your time together so fun. There wasn’t a day that went by where you two didn’t make fun of each other’s drawings. 

“Sam! It’s supposed to be an orange!” You laughed with tears in your eyes as you stared at your poorly done drawing of a peeled orange half. 

“(Y/N), it looks like a vagina.” He covered his mouth with his hand as he tried, very badly, to hide his laughter. 

And because of your constant noise-making, and talking, and interruptions, the teacher decided to move Sam across the room. But that had made it almost worse. You couldn’t even look at him from your seat because the situation was just too funny, you would have to look away before you’d burst out laughing. And as soon as class was dismissed and the two of you would leave the classroom, there was nothing holding back the bottled up amusement anymore and you both would walk out of school with tears in your eyes. 

It all happened so often that you didn’t want to stop your enjoyment and go home. And neither did Sam, you guessed. Instead of leaving you and driving back to his own house, he began driving you home and dropping you off. Which then turned to driving you home and hanging around the house after you bravely asked if he wanted to come inside for a little bit. And it got to the point where he automatically turned his car off when he parked on the street, having already set his mind on spending more time with you. But this didn’t happen every single day. 

There were times when you had to send him home. It wasn’t for anything serious, in fact, you wanted nothing more than to spend more time with him. But there were days where you had a big test coming up or tons of homework to finish or an essay due the next day, and you knew you would get none of it done if Sam was in the house. 

“Sam, get out!” You giggled as you lightly pushed him to the front door, your fingertips burning at the touch of his back.

“Alright, fine. But what am I supposed to do?” 

“I don’t know, go hang out with your other friend?” You clearly hinted at your older brother, ready to close the door and start your essay that was due the next day. It was your fault really. You had a whole week to finish it, but you kept pushing it aside because you wanted to be with Sam instead. So your whole school day was spent outlining and finding evidence with any spare time you had, and just generally stressing out. 

“He’s at football practice though.”

“Then just watch.”

“But it’s boring.”  

You gave him a pointed look. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said while leaning in for a hug then leaving.

One thing you quickly learned about Sam was that he was actually quite attentive and affectionate. He always knew when an exam was coming up for you because of the way you became less talkative and more isolated as the date got closer. He didn’t want to bring that observation up to you though because what would that do? So he did the best he could to make those few days just a little bit better for you. Which included buying you study snacks on your way home, keeping quiet in your art class and instead listening to music together, and sometimes helping you study if you let him. You didn’t notice it at first, too caught up with the thought that you might fail the exam. But when you did eventually catch on you somehow fell even more in love with Sam. 

And the one thing about him that made it harder to breathe was his need for physical touch. Whenever he saw you at school he was quick to leave his friends and greet you with a hug and ask how you’re doing. In your shared art class he was always shoulder to shoulder with you. If he thought you were too far from him, he’d hook his fingers underneath your seat and pull your chair right to him. When the two of you would walk home, his arm would always wrap around your shoulder and pull you close to him. If he saw you walking to class he was happy to take your books and walk you there with a hand on your back. And when it was just the two of you at your house watching a movie, he’d lean his entire body on yours and take a nap. 

You wanted so badly to return those affections. You wanted to wrap your arms around him, you wanted to match his excitement when he saw you in the halls, but it felt impossible for you. And you knew that Sam wouldn't mind, but you just weren’t very good at showing affection the way he did. 

You also learned that he was a bit… possessive and protective of his stuff. He was asked a few times by other students if they could borrow his drawing supplies, or even the brushes provided by the classroom, and he always, meanly, said no. Or when you constantly witnessed him smack your brother's hand away from his bag of chips. 

“Sam, c’mon, I didn’t eat anything for breakfast and I didn’t bring my lunch!” Your brother exclaimed while trying again to steal Sam’s food.

“Get away from me.” He grumbled with smiley fries in his mouth,  

“You’re never this way with my sister.” 

Which was true. He was always sharing his stuff with you. Whether it was food or letting you keep his pencil because you couldn’t find your own, and it was always the pink Paper Mate ones. He was also always offering or making you take some of whatever snack he had. 

“Here, have it.” And he gave you the last oreos he had bought from the cafeteria. 

And there was a time when you were paired up for a project with the boy who took you to the dance in your eighth grade year, the one who you let copy your homework. When you first heard your name with his own you wanted the ground to swallow you, but then he surprisingly brought the whole situation up and apologized for it. And you couldn’t hold a grudge if you wanted to, it happened two years ago and he seemed good now. So you forgave and forgot and the two of you planned to get the assignment started during lunch in the library. Unfortunately, Sam wasn’t as forgiving as you were.

“Didn’t he make you cry? Why don’t you tell the teacher you just don’t want to be partners with him?” He asked while opening his car door for you. 

“Sam, it’s okay! He said he was sorry and it’s not like I’m hanging out with him.” He scoffed at the last part then closed it after you had gotten in. 

“You better not because I’m not over it.”

“Did he take you to the dance?”

“No, but I was the one who saw how upset you were. Hated seeing you like that. I just don’t want him to think that this could be a second chance or something.”

“I appreciate your concern, I really do. But it’s not going beyond a school project, I promise.”

“Okay, but if he tries something, you tell me first.” You rolled your eyes with a smile and nodded your head. You didn’t dare tell him but you felt more than just appreciative, you felt cherished and looked after when he got this way, which wasn’t the first time. And each talk left you wanting him even more. 

And the last bit of his personality that you learned was his introvertness, which again, surprised you. Especially since your brother was actually a pretty sociable person. Like you, Sam was not one to see a large crowd and want to partake in it. The only difference between the two of you was that when you were put in a situation where you were surrounded by a lot of people, your heart would quicken and your hands would get sweaty. You were nervous to talk to other people and felt like you had to. But with Sam, he simply didn’t care to talk to them, he didn’t want to and he made that very clear. 

“Fuck that.” He said when the both of you saw that the school Market was taking place in the courtyard. The market took place for a week, and it was where students sold their own goods. You made the mistake your freshman year of trying to walk through it and go home, but you were always stopped by another student trying to sell you something, whether it was a sticker or their homemade soap, and it was a nightmare. 

There was one time you accidentally got caught up with one of them and they just wouldn’t let you leave. They were selling some homemade body care products, soaps and bath bombs, and you gave every excuse you could to nicely shut them down.

“I don’t have enough money.”

“I really have to get home.”

“I’m not really a bath bomb person.”

“That’s okay! We’ve got lip scrubs! Here, smell these.” Then they proceeded to shove different products in your face while telling you their prices. And while giving a tight lipped smile, you felt a hand wrap around your own. You didn’t have to look to know it was Sam, thank god. 

“Hi, would you like t-”

“Nope.” And he walked away with your hand in his, telling his fellow classmates to “fuck off” as he continued to walk through the market. It felt so natural, like it was supposed to be this way. You’d never felt so comfortable with Sam like this. Before, you were always too overwhelmed by his presence and your own feelings that it became too much. But there you were, holding his hand until the two of you got to his car. 

And it all went away when he graduated. It was a terrible night for you to watch him be handed his diploma, an official sign that the friendship you had built with him was over. You were proud of him, there was no doubt about that. But as soon as the graduating class threw their hats in the air you had to bite your lip to keep your cries from coming out. There was a hollowness in your heart that swallowed any emotion you could feel. 

When the ceremony was over and you and your family went down to the field, he ran right to you and gave you a soul crushing embrace. One where it lifted you off the ground and you had to wrap your arms around him. His graduation gown burned against your cheek. It was a bitter-sweet moment. 

When you got home after a celebration dinner for your brother, you thought about your times with Sam and cried the entire night, wishing you had never met him in the first place so you could save yourself from your heartbreak.

[meazalykov]

wrong number

bayern munich frauen x reader

1/6, 2/6, 3/6, 4/6, 5/6, 6/6

"who are you, and why do you have my number?"

you've been preparing for this move for what feels like forever.

the idea of leaving your small hometown in virginia to live in munich is both exciting and terrifying. you’ve spent weeks packing your things, saying goodbyes, and trying to mentally prepare yourself for the massive change that’s about to happen. 

sure, you’ve dreamed about studying abroad for a long time. now that it’s here, the reality of it feels overwhelming.

you’re going to be thousands of miles away from home, from everything you’ve ever known. your family is supportive, and your friends have been hyping you up nonstop. yasmeen, your closest friend, has been particularly great about helping you stay grounded, always there to distract you from the “what ifs” when the anxiety gets a little too intense. 

today is one of those days.

the two of you had planned a mall trip—something normal and fun before the whirlwind of final packing and travel arrangements takes over. well, yasmeen says that you need a new closet for munich and you don’t disagree.

it feels good to be doing something so ordinary, especially when you know that soon enough, everything in your life is about to be not-so-ordinary. 

you’ve been to this mall a hundred times with yasmeen, today feels a little more special though. maybe it’s because you’re hyperaware that you won’t have moments like these once you’re in germany.

will you make friends in germany? what if germany turns out horribly? are the people nice? is there xenophobia you might experience due to yourself being american? these thoughts plagued the back of your mind. 

"you’re gonna miss me so much, you know that, right?" yasmeen teases as the two of you walk through the mall’s food court, eyeing the chick-fil-a counter but opting for chipotle instead.

you roll your eyes playfully, nudging her with your elbow with the arm that's carrying your aritzia bag. 

"i’ll miss your constant harassment, that’s for sure."

"constant harassment? i’m literally the best thing that ever happened to you!"

"okay, sure," you laugh. 

honestly, yasmeen has been a huge part of your life for the past few years. she was the first person you clicked with back in high school, and now it feels weird to think about going through the next few years without her by your side. 

you’re trying not to dwell on it, though. you’ll still have facetime, you tell yourself. 

after grabbing and eating your rice bowls, you both head toward the stores. it’s one of those days where everything feels easy—there’s no pressure to buy anything. you did though obviously.

at one point, yasmeen holds up a bright red kit with a smirk.

"ouu a bayern munich kittt. you should totally buy it, you will fit in with the munich community."

you tilt your head, laughing. 

"what is that? i don’t even watch soccer."

"woah! you better once you hit germany– i heard soccer to them is like how the nfl is to americans."

you shake your head but decide to try it on anyway. yasmeen snaps a photo and tells you that you look like you’re about to cheer for some random german soccer team. 

you don’t think much of it and put the jersey back, moving on to the next store.

as the day goes on, you feel a strange mix of contentment and anticipation. it’s nice being here, with your best friend, doing normal things, but there’s a part of you that’s itching to start this next chapter of your life. 

it’s like you’re stuck in this weird limbo between your old life and the new one that’s waiting for you on the other side of the world.

eventually, after several hours of shopping, you realize your phone had died. you don’t even remember when it happened. 

you’ve been so caught up in the moment with yasmeen that you didn’t notice the battery draining.

"ugh, my phone’s dead," you say, glancing at the blank screen.

yasmeen shrugs. 

"mine’s still good. if anything, i can call you an uber."

"nah, i’m good. i’ll just charge it when i get home."

you both grab shoes at birkenstock before say your goodbyes outside the mall. yasmeen gives you an extra tight hug. 

"don’t get caught up with your european friends and forgetting about me, okay?"

"never," you promise.

when you get home, you immediately plug your phone into the charger and head straight to the shower. 

the hot water feels good against your skin, washing away the stress of the day. you’ve got so much on your mind—packing, travel plans, what your life is going to look like in a few weeks—but right now, standing under the stream of water, you feel calm. 

you let your thoughts drift away and focus on the simple rhythm of the water hitting your shoulders.

when you finally get out of the shower, you feel refreshed, like maybe you can tackle all the things on your to-do list without getting overwhelmed.

when you grab your phone and take it off of your charger, you notice something strange. 

it’s blowing up with notifications. you squint at the screen, trying to make sense of what’s happening. 

there’s a new group chat, and it’s filled with numbers you don’t recognize.

confused, you open the messages. the chat is already deep into a conversation about something, but none of it makes sense to you.

+49 176 1234567: pernille you’re AMAZING wtf was that!!!!????? 

+49 171 7654321: arsenals defense during this match had nothing on you or syd holy shit

your brows furrow. arsenal? match? what are they talking about? you know absolutely nothing about this conversation. 

hell, you’re not even sure what country arsenal plays for. the confusion only grows as you scroll up to see more of the conversation.

you: hi?

almost immediately, your message is met with a flood of responses.

+49 171 7654321: giulia! finally! where have you been?

+49 178 1233567: we’ve been trying to reach all day, i know we had no training but are you okay?

your heart skips a beat. giulia? who the hell is giulia? you’ve definitely never gone by that name.

you: uh, i think you’ve got the wrong number. i’m not giulia.

for a moment, the chat goes silent. you stare at your phone, wondering if you should just leave the group.

before you can, a new message pops up.

+49 176 1234567: wait, what?

+49 171 7654321: did we add the wrong number again?

+49 171 11122222: sydney, you’re an idiot. you added the wrong number!

there’s a pause before a new number is added to the group.

+49 152 3334444: you guys finally added me.

you assume this is the real giulia. still, no one seems to be kicking you out of the chat, and before you know it, the conversation picks up again.

+49 176 1234567: giulia, you missed our whole debate about the arsenal match.

+49 171 7654321: yeah, and we were saying bayern needs to keep it up for juventus.

you stare at your phone, more confused than ever. arsenal, bayern… these are clearly soccer teams, but why are they talking to you? you don’t even watch soccer. eventually, you decide to chime in.

you: um?? i have no idea what any of you are talking about. 

this time, the chat explodes with messages.

+49 171 7654321: what?!

+49 176 1234567: how do you not know bayern munich?

+49 175 7778888: do you watch fusball? 

+49 171 1112222: okay, who are you?

+44 177 9900000: ok guys that makes me feel better about this not being a crazy fan.

+49 170 4479173: i agree with georgia 

you explain your situation—that you’re a 21-year-old college student from virginia, and you somehow got added to this group chat by mistake. 

you tell them about your upcoming move to munich for your study abroad program, hoping to clear up the confusion.

+49 152 3334444: wait… you’re moving to munich? like… munich, germany?

+49 171 7654321: that’s insane omg we all live in munich.

+44 171 9900000: wtffff 

+49 176 1234567: this is such a weird coincidence.

you blink at your screen. this is getting stranger by the second. what are the odds that you’d get added to a random group chat full of people who live in the exact city you’re about to move to?

+49 171 1112222: okay, but how do we know you’re not some creepy dude pretending to be a girl?

+49 172 4567389: LMAO LENA 

+57 170 9193831: wait… 

you roll your eyes at the suspicion but understand why they might be cautious. so, you send them your instagram handle to prove you’re real. 

you: ew, i am not some old dude. @ y/n.l/n is my insta, just me out for yourselves.

after a few minutes, messages start pouring in again.

+49 152 3334444: yep, she’s legit.

+49 176 1234567: okay, cool. she seems sweet.

+49 171 9718193: guys laura would love her photography skills

you: who’s laura

+49 171 9900000: someone from the german national team. she plays in frankfurt

+44 177 9900000: this is so cool idky why.. usually i’d be freaked out

a few new followers pop up on your instagram notifications, and you open the app to check. you almost drop your phone when you see that some of the accounts following you are verified. 

*sydneylohmann is now following you*

and another 

*georgiastanway is now following you* 

*tuvahansen is now following you* 

and more.. 

*leaschuller is now following you* 

*lenaoberdorf is now following you* 

*kathi.ng is now following you* 

*pharder10 is now following you*

*guzman013_ is now following you* 

*sarahzadrazil25 is now following you* 

now it seems like the whole team is catching on.. 

*buehlklara is now following you* 

*magdalenaeriksson26 is now following you* 

*magou_doucoure is now following you* 

*dahmannlinda is now following you* 

it's until you do a quick google search that you realize who they are.

they’re professional soccer players.

you sit there, staring at your phone, completely in shock. you’ve somehow stumbled into a group chat full of actual women’s soccer players. 

trying to play it cool, you decide to treat them like normal people.

after all, you don’t even know anything about soccer, so it’s not like you’re going to fan out over them.

you: so, what are your names? i want to save your numbers because all of the unsaved numbers are overwhelming haha 

they go around introducing themselves, and you quickly type their names into your phone, saving each number under the name they give you.

+49 152 3334444: i’m giulia

+49 171 7654321: sydney

+44 177 9900000: georgia s 

+49 179 7777777: lea 

+57 170 9193831: ana g. there’s two ana’s so i’d add the last name letter to tell the difference 💜

it’s surreal, somehow you find yourself chatting with them like they’re any other group of girls you’d meet in a random group chat. 

they even start to warm up to you after a few days, especially after you tell them more about your move to munich. 

a few of them offer to show you around the city once you get there.

georgia: honestly, munich’s great. you’re going to love it.

sydney: we can help you find all the best spots.

lena: i can definitely ☺️

lea: lena you just moved here from wolfsburg.. 

lena: lea shushhhh 🙄

pernille: ??? 

you smile at your phone, feeling a little less nervous about the move. it’s strange, but you’re actually starting to look forward to meeting these girls in person. 

sure, they’re professional soccer players, but they’re also just… normal people. and they seem to like you.

as the chat continues, you get the sense that they trust you. maybe it’s because of your instagram or the way you’ve been honest with them from the start, but whatever it is, they don’t seem to mind that you accidentally got added to their group. 

in fact, they seem to enjoy having you around.

klara: you seem chill. i know its been a week since you’ve been added but do you promise to keep our secrets safe? 

lena: ^

you: i promise. i like you guys! 

it’s not every day you accidentally make friends with a group of famous athletes, but somehow, that’s exactly what’s happened. 

as strange as it is, you’re kind of excited about it.

part two here

[jumbled-thoughts-here]

Prince x Pirate AU

Okay so. Hello tumblr... I have lost ALL motivation to write for this au, BUT I'm just gonna lay out some of it and give fun facts >u<

In this au, Scar is a pirate and Grian is the prince he "kidnapped"- more like saved.

It's a slowburn, of course, but they do fall in love in the end!! There's also some small Redscape/Grumbo, Flower Ranchers, Shiny Duo (beginnings of a qpr), and Jizzie. There is a Clockers family dynamic, a Cub and Scar brother dynamic, and Skizz and Impulse act like fathers to everyone.

Here's my facts:

(Please note that these were written on discord to my best friend who I yap with about this a lot.. there's probably so many plot holes but WHO CARES)

Scar's Father left when he came out at 14, his mother helped him and stayed before she passed away from -- when he was 17. He gathered up close friends to start a crew of pirates with no official name, and that crew included Cleo, Bdubs, Cub, Impulse, Skizz, Gem, Joel, Mumbo, and previous member Lizzie. (Oh and Etho, but he just abandoned ship. Lizzie fell off and "drowned".) (There's also a few crappy randos)

Scar Facts: -Scar found a kingdom named Rivendell. He received top surgery there with stolen money, and he also helped Cleo, Skizz, and Joel get their surgeries. (They're all trans ok,,, shhh) -Scar has killed 20 people; the first two years he was squeamish (18 and 19), but when he turned 20 he began killing bad people and stealing mainly their riches. He avoided stealing from the poor. (Those people do not make up the entire 20..) -Scar and Mumbo had some romantic feelings for a while, but Mumbo stated that he believed Scar was fit for someone else and he couldn't handle a full-on romantic relationship. They remained qpr. -Lizzie fell into the ocean, yes, BUT… a siren found her, and felt.. mercy. They turned her into one, and she basically became the queen of the fuckin' ocean. She reunited with Scar's crew (AND JOEL YES YES YES!!) 2 years after she "died". -Scar thinks of Gem, Lizzie, Bdubs, and Cub as siblings. He sees Impulse and Skizz as father figures, and Cleo as a mother figure. He sees Joel as a best-friend/brother.

Grian Facts: -Grian is worshipped and pampered like a god, and he is seen as the embodiment of the sun. He does not see himself this way. -Grian's parents only wanted one heir and one child, so they kept Grian and sent Pearl and Jimmy away. Jimmy went to Rivendell, and he eventually found a lover (or two) and married them. Pearl went to Mythland and found a guy who became her best bud named Sausage. Grian was 16 when his siblings were taken from him.

Scar AND Grian Facts: -When Scar started the fire in the kingdom, (he's 23 at this point), he started it in Grian's parents room (Grian is 20 at this point). The guards fled and got the civilians out of the kingdom, but Grian had passed out in his room due to the smoke and was forgotten. Scar found him, though, and escaped with him over his shoulder and a ton of riches in his hands. -Grian woke up bound in rope, done by one of the crappy randos. Scar checked on him, tended to his wounds, yada yada. Cleo knitted him a sweater, Scar gave him one of his old binders that he outgrew and some shorts, and Scar also wrapped his feet since they had no shoes on board so he wouldn't get cuts on his feet. -Grian sleeps in Scar's cabin, in his bed. Scar sleeps on the damn floor. -It takes months, almost years, for Grian to adjust to Scar's crew, but he grows close to Joel, Gem, Mumbo, and especially Scar. -Grian grows feelings for Mumbo faster than he did for Scar, but Mumbo tells Grian the same thing he did for Scar and Grian is okay with it. They do kiss though. -Grian decides just randomly one day to ask Scar to kiss him. Yes, it was 1 AM. Yes, Scar was awake. And yes, they did kiss. And Scar finally got to sleep in his bed. (Scar has been sleeping on the floor of his cabin ever since he gave up his bed willingly for Grian.) -They get "married" unofficially, and Scar throws the crappy randos overboard (FINALLY.) -Grian eventually tells Scar about his siblings, and Scar helps him find them. They found Pearl first, and they have a happy reunion and Pearl joins the crew. She gets along quite well with Gem. -It takes them a while longer to find Jimmy, and boy was Grian shocked that he could pull AND that he was a king now. But, either way, Scott, the now-king and previous lone prince of Rivendell, was the officiant to Grian and Scar's wedding. -They stay a bit in Rivendell, and Joel grows close to Jimmy. (The Bad Boys become a thing now guys) -Scar finally tells Grian he killed his parents, which he hadn't done before. Grian doesn't care, neither do his siblings.

Cat Facts: -Scar had one cat, Jellie, that he had since he was 10, and he brought her aboard. He found two strays, and left them unnamed, unsure what to name them. During his travels, he found two kittens, the same breed as Jellie. He named them Katy Bee and Mr. Finnegan. When Grian came aboard, Grian named the two cats Pearl, after his sister, and Maui, who he almost named Timmy but didn't care enough to do so.

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Can You Come Around

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

pairing: modern!steve harrington x modern!fem!reader

wc: 2629

cw: mad flirting, swearing, alcohol, drinking, weed, smoking, mentions of cheating, men being weird, smut, 18+ mdni, fingering, teasing

a/n: set in modern times with the reader as the front woman of a new band in NYC. hope you guys like it!!

steve masterlist

“Goddamn”  Eddie whispered as they all stared up at the stage. 

It was Robin’s twenty-first birthday, causing everyone to meet up in New York City. Since Robin was the last of the eldest teens to turn of legal drinking age, the group decided to go on a small trip in honor of the momentous occasion. 

A four day trip with four of Steve’s closest friends—what could possibly go wrong. 

Originally? Nothing.

Wednesday and Thursday went off without a hitch. Seeing as her birthday was Wednesday, they spent the night bar hopping, snagging free drinks from those who were feeling generous enough to donate to their celebration, and snagging as many free desserts from as many restaurants as possible.

Then Friday night hit. Abandoning their original plan to try this bar near NYU that Nancy had been raving about, they found themselves in some other part of Greenwich, at this random bar that Eddie just had to go to. 

You see, the group had run into one of Eddie’s old friends on Thursday, and he wouldn’t stop raving about this random band that only Eddie seemed to have heard about. And that’s when Eddie turned to look at the group. 

“No.”

“Nancy—”

“I said no Eddie, this was the plan–”

At one point he even got on his knees and pleaded with Nancy. 

She eventually caved when Eddie offered to sponsor her drinks for the rest of her trip.

Which is how they found themselves packed in the back corner of this surprising large space. It had to have spanned across two buildings since it was just this giant, underground hall that was covered in drawings, in stickers, in posters, in murals, in graffiti—dark, but not dingy, which Nancy and Robin greatly appreciated. Once the group had managed to snag a table in the back, and gotten their drinks, they all started talking to one another. 

It was loud, but since there was no music playing, they could still hear one another pretty well. 

That was until your band walked on stage the crowd of college kids roared. 

To say that Steve was completely and utterly entranced by you was an understatement. The roaming lights around the audience would catch his eyes every now and again, but it didn’t matter if he was being blinded since he could only see you anyways. 

As you greeted the audience, Eddie elbowed Steve slightly in an ‘I told you so’ manner. “You’re going to fucking love them man.” 

Steve only nodded in response, watching your smile broaden with each roar of applause from the crowd. 

The night went on like this, Steve being completely despondent from all conversations happening at the table, and the group making fun of his infatuation. He barely even finished the beer in his hand, only able to focus on the sound of your voice filling up every available inch of room. It was hard to not breathe you in with every single inhale he took. 

As the night was winding down, the crowd only grew. But as all good things, your performance had to come to an end. Your voice rang out. 

“New York!” 

They roared in response to you. 

“I just want to thank you all for coming out tonight to support me and my friends. At the end of the day we’re just a bunch of idiot twenty-two years old that fucking love music, and we’re so grateful you guys decided to come out and support us tonight.”

Steve heard Eddie scream over his shoulder with the rest of the crowd.

“Now, we only have one song left in our set–I know I know it’s devastating but some of us wanna get fucked up too.”

The opening chords of the song rang out and Steve swore he was going to go deaf. He had never actually felt sound before, but there was a first time for everything. 

Nancy whacked Eddie’s shoulder. “I fucking love this song, why didn’t you lead with that?” 

Eddie’s eyes grew wide as your voice floated over. 

Can you come around? Fuck me nice. 

“You know—you LIKE–this song?”

Pull my hair. Sing me lullabies. 

“Eddie, we listened to it in the van on the way here..”

And we can pretend that we're in love. 

Steve blocked out the rest of their conversations and zeroed in on the thrumming of his pulse as you continued to sing. 

“When you come around, I’ll wear red. And I’ll forget all the awful things you’ve ever said. And we can pretend that we're in love.” 

Singing has been a passion of yours from a very young age. You were in vocal lessons the second you turned four, and dance lessons by five. Your parents were certain you were going to be the next broadway triple threat. You had even picked up the guitar and piano by age seven. But by the time you hit middle school, you had become more interested in writing, in poetry. You dropped the dance lessons and picked up drum lessons instead, much to the chagrin of your father. Writing poetry turned into writing music, and suddenly you were sneaking off to go to concerts every night, finding ways to get into bars to see local singers and bands. It was exhilarating watching people pursue their passion.

You found your bandmates in your first semester at Columbia. You had been in the wrong place at the right time, finding out that one of your lab partners could also play the guitar and the bass. And then you found out she knew someone who played the drums who was looking for a few people to hangout with. Then you found out that the drummer's sister was a keyboardist who was over at NYU. And NYU’s roommate? Well she just so happened to be one of the greatest guitar players you had ever heard.

That’s when you guys started playing and writing music together. 

“Until I throw a punch and you call me a cunt and that tips me over the edge. Ah, you throw my phone out the window. The next thing the neighbor says she’s calling’ the feds, and I wish you were dead. For a sec. I wish you dead. “

You couldn’t help but feel as though someone had shot electricity through your veins. Any time you stepped out on that stage, it was as if the world shifted under your feet and suddenly you could feel every single pulse of every single person in the audience. 

Tonight was no exception. You had officially released two EPs with collections of songs on them over the past few years, but a few weeks ago, your band had signed with an agent, who was able to get you more gigs, better gigs. She was incredible. 

Exactly a week ago, you had released your first ever single with a label. Your EPs were listened to, and you were an up-and-coming group to look out for, for sure, but you had never had a single before. 

It blew up.

“But you come around. At ten pm. We watch tv. We break the bed.” 

Tonight was the first time you were singing the single live, and hearing the entire audience screaming the words back to you took your breath away. You almost forgot the next words since you were so baffled at just how many people knew your songs, how many people knew the words. 

 And we can pretend that we're in love. We can pretend that we’re in love.” 

You couldn’t help as your eyes roamed the entire audience the whole night, but during this final song, you locked eyes with someone in the back. 

He had these gorgeous eyes that only showed for a brief second as the light that had roamed over him, before it moved on and he was gone again. 

Your heart almost jumped into your throat and your stomach flipped. Who the fuck was this man, and how did you find him once you finished singing this song? 

“Until I throw a punch and you call me a cunt and that tips me over the edge. Ah, you throw my phone out the window. The next thing the neighbor says she’s calling’ the feds, and I wish you were dead.”

This song was written over the course of twenty-seven minutes. 

About four months ago, your relationship of three years had decided that you weren’t enough. And instead of ending it all proper-like, he decided to go and fuck some random girl in his ethics class. 

The irony was not lost on you. 

For a sec. I wish you dead. I wish you were dead.

After you had finished performing, you went backstage, congratulating your bandmates, but your mind was somewhere else. It was in the back of the venue with one of the most gorgeous men you had ever seen in your life. 

At the same time, Steve Harrington was running through all of the ways he would be able to find you in this crowd. He wasn’t about to tell his friends he was running off to find you, since it was Robin’s birthday night after all, but he wasn’t about to not take the chance. 

“They’re fucking amazing…” Robin slurred out a little bit, having had six shots in the past ten minutes. Wearing a “It’s my birthday” sash in a bar is all fun and games until you receive your tenth tequila shot and eighth free margarita from kind strangers. 

“Alright…maybe we should…”

Steve and Eddie chuckled at the sound that emanated from Robin’s mouth. He was sure if he put in the effort, he could translate it to a negative response to Nancy’s suggestion. 

“I’ll be right back Eds, while Nance and Johnny take Robin back. I know you wanted to stay out a little longer.” He muttered to Eddie before heading off, towards the hallway near the side of the venue. 

Steve found a bouncer near the end of the hallway who was smoking a cigarette and nodded outside. “Do you mind if I…?” 

The guy shook his head. “Knock twice to be let back in, yeah?” 

Steve nodded and headed outside, reaching into his pocket to pull out a joint from the small container in his pocket. 

Just as he did so, he heard a cough from beside him. “You don’t happen to have a…”

As Steve looked up, your voice trailed off. The rest of your sentence didn’t matter since you were face to face with the mystery man from the back of the room. 

“Hey you’re–” Steve pointed at you before realzing how fucking dumb he must sound. But you just shrugged and nodded. 

“Yeah. How’d you like the show?” 

Steve held the lighter up and lit the joint that was in your hand. “Loved it.”

“Yeah?” 

All you could notice was how gorgeous his eyes were again, stunned into a moment of hesitation with words since you were absolutely too mesmerized by him. 

“Great fucking show.” 

That and his hands. You would let those fucking hands do anything to you. 

“Think so?”

Steve nodded, and bit his lip as he looked you up and down shamelessly.

You come around. Fuck me nice. Pull my hair. Sing me lullabies.

You shoved Steve up against a wall, lips against his. He tasted like weed and whatever beer he had been drinking earlier. 

His hands cupped your ass as the two of you began to make out in the dimly lit alley behind the venue. 

No other words needed. 

Your body rolled reflexively against his, causing him to moan softly into your mouth. 

“Just gonna kiss me pretty boy or…” You muttered as you kissed across his jaw, sucking and leaving marks all across his neck. 

Steve took the opportunity to roll the both of you against the wall so now his body pressed yours up against it. 

His hands had moved from your back to your hips, squeezing them ever so slightly as to get more of a rise out of you. 

It was working. 

He slipped one of his hands down the curve of your hip and to the front of your jeans, unzipping them as you moaned into his mouth. The fingers that had previously been on his neck were now twisted in his hair. 

Steve’s pointer finger slid up your panties, causing your whole body to jolt at the touch of him between your thighs. 

“Please…fuck…P-Please.” 

His lips trailed down your cheek and towards your neck. 

The feeling of his hand so close to your pussy and the fanning of his breath over your neck was enough to almost send you over the edge right then and there. 

Steve knew better than to keep you waiting. Brushing aside your underwear with his thumb, he pressed a finger up into your core. 

Steve’s eye’s grew darker at the feeling of how completely soaked you were, just for him. 

Your hips rocked back and forth slightly, trying to get him to move, trying to get the friction. 

Steve took the hint and dug his finger in further, getting up to his knuckle in pussy. 

Once Steve had thouroughly fucked you with just one finger, he decided to add another. And then another, causing you to tug even more on his hair. 

Steve decided right then and there, he loved the feeling of your squirming on his hand while you yanked the shit out of his hair. 

“F-fuck–shit I’m…I’m so..” 

Steve started rapidly curling his fingers inside of you, over and over and over again, brushing against your g-spot over and over and over again. 

His other hand came up to your mouth and he slowly pushed his two middle fingers inside, causing you to slightly choke on them, and then moan. 

It was muffled by the digits in your mouth, but it was the final straw that caused your orgasm to snap your body in half. Choking slightly on one hand, and your pussy convulsing on his other, you had ascended to heaven. 

A man had never made you cum just by fingering you before. 

In the midst of your orgasm, body spasming at Steve’s fingers contined to fuck your insides, that Steve was probably just a god—a sex god really. No man could be this handsome and fuckable, while also being phenomenal at sex. 

Eventually as your body calmed down, and Steve removed his hand from your mouth, you felt his lips on yours. Your hand instantly shoved him hard against your lips, feeling the need to feel something of his skin on yours. 

He slowly circled his fingers causing your body to let out another moan, sending a shiver up your spine. 

After a few moments Steve pulled away, and you opened your eyes to take another look at the man standing with you. As you did so, he very gently pulled his hand out, looking you in the eyes the whole time. 

You might as well had cum a second time right then and there as he slowly slipped his fingers, covered in your orgasm, into his mouth. If you thought about it too much, you were sure you basically drooled right then and there for this man. 

“You…”

Steve raised his eyebrows at the fact that the woman he had just heard singing her heart out was now speechless at him. 

“Me?” 

“You’re coming back to my apartment.” 

“Oh?” 

You nodded and slid one of your hands down to zip up your jeans and fix your shirt.  Not that it mattered since you looked like you had just been fucked to heaven and back in an alley. 

Not even a moment later, just as Eddie was leaving the club he received a text from Steve: 

Dont wait up

[haechani4ever]

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: break up ✧

╰┈➤why would you two break up

. . ⇢ ˗ˏˋpairing ot7 x gn!reader

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋgenre angst

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋwarnings mentions of cheating

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋnote im sorry i know its kinda sad but im feeling very angst these days. also i had so much fun writing this and i hope u like it :)

✦➼mark lee ┈ he didn't have time for you

✦- sadly we all know how busy mark always is. likewise, he tried to give you some of his time, but it wasnt enough. sometimes days went by without them seeing each other and when they did see each other it was for 10 minutes. the good morning and good night messages didnt really make up for anything nor did the other text messages with small updates. probably you were the one who broke up with mark. he's too kind and sweet to do it. he also didnt really realize what he was doing and thats why you broke up.

it was a weekday when you approached him to talk to him. they were both in the kitchen of their house. they had just finished dinner when you told him. mark was shocked when you told him. he knew you were right but he really thought it was something that would happen and they could live with it. he told you that he understood but he was really very broken.

✦➼huang renjun ┈ fell out of love

✦- renjun is someone so sweet and loving but also someone who can lose interest quickly sometimes. i mean once you see something you dont like there is no turning back. you have to have a very strong relationship for it not to happen. but if it happens, i feel for you. it will start with things like stopping being attentive to you and almost completely avoiding physical contact between the two of you.

he told you out of nowhere really. you thought your twos relationship was in a good place, and suddenly he tells you that he doesnt love you anymore. probably it was that way because it was the only way he found to tell you. those words destroyed you completely and when you asked for explanations he didnt know how to give them because he really didnt know what had happened either.

✦➼lee jeno ┈ you no longer understood each other

✦- from one day to the next the relationship stopped working. you didnt understand him anymore, Jeno. It seemed like he no longer trusted you and was hiding things from you. the talks at the end of the day ended quickly and he no longer spoke to you much directly. you thought it was because they couldnt understand each other anymore so the trust between you felt absent.

a few months ago this was a problem in your relationship, suddenly talking to each other was not comforting nor did you listen to each other. every talk led to an argument. he was the one who brought it up to you. the relationship was no longer working, he loved you, you loved him, but they no longer understood each other. the spark that connected them had gone out

✦➼lee donghyuck ┈ cheating

✦- i dont know why but sometimes Hyuck gives me those cheater vibes. it must be because i read a lot of things with a plot about that, but thats not the point. despite being a very intelligent person, haechan can sometimes be somewhat impulsive. he was easily carried away by a provocation or he was simply drunk, we dont know really, but he did it. he swear it was a one-time mistake but it happened again, two more times. but since the third is the charm you caught him in the act.

you couldnt believe it when you saw it, the person you had fallen in love with being disloyal to you. he came out behind you quickly and started apologizing. but it was too late, the mistake had already been made. you told him you didnt want to hear his apology and you left. He tried to contact you in the following weeks but you blocked him everywhere. eventually he gave up looking for you.

✦➼na jaemin ┈ different visions of the relationship

✦- you had been with jaemin for a while when one day you sat down to talk as usual and this topic came up. they realized that they both wanted different things in life and that they didnt know where they were taking the relationship. you were willing to continue the relationship, settle down and maybe start a family one day with him. but jaemin still wanted to continue experiencing life and didnt see their relationship as something serious enough to settle down.

with this information the relationship was no longer the same. there was no point in really continuing with this if one of us thought that way. so one day, you faced him. you asked him if it was really true that he saw the relationship you two had that way and when he said yes, you blurted it out. it hurt him, but he understood and thought it was the best for the two of you.

✦➼zhong chenole ┈ big figth

✦- chenle is someone with strong ideas and sticks to them a lot, so arguments were not something unusual in their relationship. it was always little things like who had to wash the dishes and stuff like that. sometimes things escalated to another level but never like that time.

the argument had started over something that was certainly stupid given the strength with which they ended up arguing. everything got out of control when you reproached him for something. from there, they began to tell each other every bad thing they saw in each other. the argument ended when one of you shouted, "well, if we're so bad for each other we should break up." and that's how it ended, you didnt see him again after that for a long time.

✦➼park jisung ┈ a misunderstanding

✦- jisung thought you cheated on him. he misinterpreted a message that was on your cell phone. at first he denied it (not only because it wasnt true) but because he didnt believe it was true, especially coming from you. but after that he started noticing things that were always there but he had never noticed them. things that had nothing wrong and were purely innocent on your part, but he didnt see them that way.

one day when he got home he told you something that had made him a little jealous, and although he tried to stay calm he ended up exploding and letting it all out. you tried to explain it to him but he got carried away by his ego and didn't let you do it. also relevant is the fact that you had burst into tears because of what he thought of you. in the end you wiped your tears and told him that the relationship was ending.

[bloodyinkandquill]

Ban Hammer x Reader

it is two am, istg do not write on this until the morning me, i will hate you i have to be up in five hours let’s go to bed

ok i didn’t write this but i did stay up another hour and a half listening to a true crime podcast so…

- You’d think dating a 6’11 demigod who owns the most secure prison in Inpherno would not be on someone’s to-do list, but for you it was different, you knew him more than just the fearsome warden, to you he was your lover and honestly, a bit of a big softy

- Ban Hammer was big, he knew that, really strong too, so he was more than just a little afraid of hurting you, especially if he had his big and sharp armor on, he liked being physically affectionate, but he did worry about hurting you, so he’d wait until he’d taken off his armor you hug you, which did sort of feel like being swallowed whole since he’s such a large man, but it felt safe and warm so you never minded it

- He was gruff and tough but after a long day he enjoyed just laying face down the couch as you stroked his head pulling it to rest on your lap, he’d just lie there as you tried to convince him to get up, take off his armor, get some water, etc, he’d grumble about it but eventually get up

- Hope you like golf, he loves taking you to go golf, he’d never admit this but it’s mostly because when he does good you tell him how great of a shot he was and other junk like that and he enjoyed the praise, if you didn’t like golf he wouldn’t mind you sitting back as long as you were there together, and you were paying attention to him, he may be your boyfriend but he’s very clingy like a puppy, he also loved receiving praise from you, he already thinks very highly of himself but hearing you say those things feels even better to him

- He’d probably take you on very fancy dinner dates, to those really nice restaurants, though you have to make the reservations because he can be a little high strung and will demand certain things like a good seat, or a discount, so to avoid him getting mad at some poor waitress you make them for the both of you

- Like mentioned he’s super cuddly and snuggly, he loves just holding you as he sleeps, or sitting very close to you to the point he’s practically on top of you, you sometimes have to tell him that’s he’s crushing you, he moves immediately and feels bad, you tell him it’s fine but how about you sit on him instead

- Unironically uses sorta cheesy pet names, you’d expect him to be more creative with it but I feel like he’d use ‘baby, babe, sweetheart, etc’ though something funny he does is he has his voice and then his warden voice, loud and commanding to demand respect and fear, sometimes he forgets to turn it off when he gets home so he gets home and says in a gruff unamused voice ‘babe i’m home!’ to the point it sounds sorta angry, you crack up and he clears his throat before saying it snot that funny, as you’re doubling over in laughter

- The first time you met Windforce was terrifying, he loved you but he loved his mom more, if she said she didn’t like you that would be it, and if you pissed her off you feared her wrath, luckily she thought you were fine, obviously she has a distaste for mortals but you make her boy happy so she puts up with you, maybe not fully liking you but she doesn’t mind you, as long as you don’t annoy her she doesn’t care

- Thought meeting Windforce was scary? One time Ban Hammer said his whole family was having a dinner party, Firebrand organized it trying to keep the family all together and connected, and Ban Hammer wanted to bring you to meet all his uncles and few cousins, you didn’t wanna say no but holy shit you were terrified, you were about to meet literally the entirety of the SFotH, which was definitely intimidating, luckily they all at the very least didn’t dislike you, and you got to meet Flipside which was cool, but holy shit when you go home you let out the biggest breath ever since you were so on edge the whole time

hope you enjoyed! had fun writing it and thinking of all this junk, anyways д�� свидания!

[roosterforme]

The Intern Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley had an easy way about him that you appreciated. Working for him all summer sounded promising, and you were determined to make it fun for both of you. But as you dipped your toes into getting to know one another on the flights from San Diego to Lisbon, you ended up closer to him than you ought to be, both conversationally and physically.

Warnings: Language, brief mention of drugs (eventually 18+)

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

The Intern masterlist. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner by @mak-32

"I still can't believe someone is paying me fifty thousand dollars to spend my summer on a yacht," you mused as the private Cessna jet gained altitude over the California desert landscape. 

Bradley turned and looked at you from his plush leather seat across the narrow aisle and smirked. "You needed the money that badly?"

"Don't play games," you told him, and he laughed. "My point is, I would have done this for free just to get Ted off my back."

His fingers tightened a bit on his armrest, knuckles growing white as he closed his eyes and said, "Now you tell me. My department budget could be looking a lot fatter right now if it wasn't for you."

You could feel the airplane leveling out as the flight attendant, a woman named Melissa, stood and made her way back toward the two of you. "Oh please," you groaned, earning one of those grins from him that made you feel light inside. "I know how much the shareholders make, Mr. Bradshaw. It's not like it's not listed on the Nasdaq Composite if you dig deep enough."

"Can I get anything for either of you?" Melissa asked. 

"I'll take an Old Fashioned, please. Hold the cherries," you replied while Bradley just shook his head in a jerky motion.

When Melissa disappeared behind the black curtain, you asked, "Why are you so tense? Have a drink and relax."

He huffed out a laugh. "It's eight in the morning. A drink is not going to help me."

You leaned a little closer, and his gaze definitely dipped down to your unzipped sweatshirt. "Don't tell me you're into something harder?" you asked, already thinking you'd be disappointed by his answer. You'd been there and done that. Hung out with and dated guys who were users, and it was not something you wanted to be around. Even out of your sorority sisters, there were only a handful who weren't high all week during grad school.

Bradley looked at you with alarm. "I'm absolutely not going to allow drugs on the yacht, Ivy League."

"Good," you replied right away, already feeling more at ease as Melissa dropped off your cocktail. "Thank you."

But she was looking at Bradley now as she said, "Please let me know if I can get you... anything."

He waved her off as you took a sip of your mediocre cocktail. Melissa had gone a little heavy handed with the bitters, probably because she was too focused on your hot boss to measure things correctly. "Take a sip," you told him, reaching across the aisle with your glass. "You look like you need it."

He grunted and accepted the drink, and a few seconds later, he had downed the whole thing. "Thanks," he whispered. "I hate this part of traveling to Europe for Avio. The flights are going to take forever."

You narrowed your eyes at him and took back your empty glass while he white knuckled the armrest again. "You were an aviator, Mr. Bradshaw."

When he looked at you again, his cheeks were a little flushed as he softly said, "You don't have to call me that. Bradley is fine." 

"Bradley," you said with a smile, and his face softened a little bit. "Why don't you like the Cessna? I mean, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't also hoping for something at least a little more luxurious from Avio, but it's not that bad."

He shook his head at you, something you were pretty sure you were just going to have to get used to for the summer. But his mustache twitched as he licked his lips and said, "Maybe chartered flights are normal for you, Ivy League, but I got used to being the pilot. Of something much less comfortable than a Cessna Hemisphere. So this just feels inherently wrong to me. I mean, I just drank a cocktail."

"Inhaled," you corrected. "And technically it was my cocktail," you said, waving to Melissa and holding up the glass and two fingers.

"Semantics," he grunted. "I miss my Super Hornet right now. Not only were there no drinks, there wasn't even a bathroom."

You watched Melissa duck behind the curtain again, probably to forget how to make a cocktail again. "Well, we'll be there soon," you told Bradley.

"I doubt these pilots can do Mach 2, so not fast enough for me."

You sighed, knowing this would probably be a lot easier for him if you could get him to drink a second Old Fashioned, but when Melissa dropped two more of them off, they were both garnished with a cherry. "I asked you to hold the cherries."

"Oh, yes. Sorry," Melissa muttered. "I can remove it for you."

"I'm allergic, so I'll actually need you to remake mine," you replied, and Bradley started to hand his back as well.

"Remake hers, and mine too," he grunted, suddenly looking far less nervous about the flight as he made to stand up. "Fresh glasses and everything. I don't want cherries anywhere near her." You looked up at him in surprise as he kind of rolled his eyes and followed Melissa. "I'll make sure she does it right," he whispered, and you watched him walk up to the curtain, as confident as he usually was.

"Thanks," you replied, even though nobody was there to hear you now. Well, he had promised he'd do everything he could to keep you safe and comfortable. You watched as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, and you pressed your lips together. That blue Oxford shirt was the exact best color he could possibly wear, and you wondered if he knew it or if it was an accident that he chose it.

When he met your eyes, you didn't look away. You didn't really care if he knew you were checking him out. Until you did. Because when he walked back with two new drinks, you realized how little you knew about him. "Here," he grunted, voice deep and raspy. Then he clinked his glass to yours before sinking back into the aisle seat opposite yours again and buckling his seatbelt once more. 

"Thanks for doing that."

He smiled at you. "Can't lose my intern on her first day. Especially since I've never had one before."

You perked up, loving that you'd cornered the market. "I'm your first intern?"

"Yeah." He was back to downing his drink and looking miserable now, practically throwing the empty glass aside in favor of gripping the armrest. Abandoning your drink after one sip, you stood and stepped over his outstretched legs, his eyes following your every move as you eased yourself down into the window seat next to him. "You okay?" he asked, looking a little amused now that you were just inches away from him.

"I am, but you're not," you told him with an air of authority. "Just relax," you added as you took his hand from the armrest and held it in both of yours. His brown eyes went a little wider, and his lips parted like he wanted to say something. Probably question what you were doing. But you said, "You'll feel better in a few minutes," as you worked your thumbs along the pressure points in his big, rough palm. And then he closed his eyes and without a word, he leaned back in his seat with his hand cradled in yours. Soon he was sound asleep.

-----------------------

Bradley woke up to an almost pleasant humming sound all around him. His hand was warm and wrapped up in something soft, and when he opened his eyes, your face was just a few inches from his as you slept. His body thrummed with something akin to desire as you pursed your haughty lips in your sleep, long lashes grazing your perfect cheeks. 

Shit. His hand was resting on your body, fingers tangled up with yours and wrapped in your designer hoodie. His knuckles were pressed to the soft skin which was exposed between your high waisted pants and your damn sports bra. And based on the way the plane was started to descend, he'd taken a five fucking hour nap all cuddled up with his intern. With Ted's goddamn daughter.

Hands off. He'd been telling himself to keep his hands off of you, and just a few hours in, he was literally doing the exact opposite. But you'd been sweet to him, carefully massaging the pressure points in his hand until he was able to fall asleep. You must have drifted off then, too. And now he was loath to remove his hand from your body or look away from you.

He needed another fucking drink. Or several. He leaned carefully over you, and sure enough, he could see the New York skyline coming into view through the small window. And he could smell your perfume. And that was when you opened your eyes, immediately sitting up a few inches and nearly bumping noses with him.

"Sorry," he grunted. "I was just trying to see where we were."

"Where are we?" you asked, your voice soft and a little rough from sleep. Jesus, he liked the way that sounded. 

"Almost to New York. Want me to ask the pilot to circle back to Philly so you can wave to your alma mater?"

You laughed and sat up a little more, arching your back, but you didn't immediately let go of him. "No, thank you. I've only been gone for a week, so I'm sure the City of Brotherly Love is enjoying this break."

Bradley found himself continually laughing at your words, but now you were looking at his hand all linked with yours, so he started to pull his free. You didn't stop him, and when you looked up at him, you even asked, "Did you sleep okay?"

He nodded his head once. "I did. Thank you. For making me feel better."

You sat up the rest of the way and stretched, and he had to look away as you said, "A good intern is good at everything."

Your words weren't dirty, so why the hell were his thoughts? He should be trying to find out more about your father, not imagining you wearing a fluffy white bathrobe while you drank an Old Fashioned sans cherry next to his bed. He was miles away in his mind when the plane touched down on the runway before taxiing to the refueling spot. His stomach was growling wildly now as Melissa walked back and offered them a very late lunch. 

"I didn't want to interrupt anything," she said, looking between you and Bradley like the two of you had been all over each other. When she turned away to get the salads and sandwiches ready, you climbed over him to use the bathroom, and Bradley watched you ignore a phone call as you went. He also realized that he'd have to tread very carefully around potential clients over the next few weeks. It was one thing for Melissa to make a comment like that, but it would be something entirely different if a line like that got back to Ted.

While the plane was refueled and the pilots switched places for the longer flight from New York to Portugal, you and he ate in companionable silence. You'd returned to your seat across the aisle, and you ignored another call before tucking your phone away in your bag. Bradley also used this time to drink a gin and tonic in the hopes he'd be able to sleep again, slightly afraid you wouldn't join him on his side of the aisle to make him feel cozy again. 

"We'll be taking off again in five minutes," Melissa informed him as she cleared away the meal and brought pillows and blankets. Your phone was out again now, and you ignored yet another call as Bradley shook his head.

"Are you going to keep me up at all hours of the night on the yacht yelling at your little boyfriend on the phone?"

You scoffed and looked right at him as you said, "I don't date little boys. Are you going to keep me up calling your wife and kids back in San Diego?"

He didn't want to laugh at the way you talked to him and kept him on his toes. He also registered that the way you'd let him hold your hand while he slept had only come from a platonic place if you were just now asking if he was married. "I don't have a wife or kids."

"Why not?" you asked, leaning on your armrest with your tits smashed together. "You could be married. If you wanted. You're tall and you have all your hair."

"Are those the only prerequisites?" he asked, trying not to look anywhere other than at your face. God, your little bikinis were going to be the absolute death of him if he didn't get fucking laid soon.

"No," you replied without missing a beat. "You're smart, too. Handsome. Tons of money. And you seem nice. Good manners. You make me laugh. Seems like someone would have snapped you up off the market by now."

His cheeks felt warm again as he tried to figure out how to answer. You'd just complimented him nine different ways, and he was reeling a bit. "Because I was in the Navy. Nobody in their right mind would trust a Navy guy with that level of commitment."

"Why not?"

"They lie and they cheat," he said, repeating the lines women had been telling him since he was twenty two. "Nobody you'd want to settle down with."

But you didn't look convinced as your smile tilted a little higher on one side. "Are you a cheater?"

He knew somehow he wouldn't get away with speaking anything but the plain truth to you from here on out. "No."

"I didn't think so." You looked satisfied as you settled back in your seat, about to snuggle under your blanket. The sky was a little darker now, and there was nothing below except for the Atlantic Ocean. 

He had a slight buzz from the gin, and he felt a lot better than he had earlier this morning. He reached for his bag and pulled out his laptop before crooking his finger and coaxing you back to the seat next to him. "We have a little work to do, Ivy League."

While he expected you to complain, you didn't. Rather you popped out of your seat with your pillow and blanket, climbed over him and settled in the window seat once more. "What is it?" you asked eagerly, and when he logged in to his email account, he saw something from Ted right away. Just a reminder to keep himself on track.

"I'm going to teach you a little bit about the Avio software we will be marketing, so by the time we land in Lisbon, you'll know as much as I do."

You curled up with your pillow and blanket and looked at him, your words doing more to him than you probably intended. "Don't test me, Sir, or I may end up knowing more than you."

"You're a brat."

-------------------------

This time when you woke up, it wasn't to Bradley's touch or his brown eyes. This time it was to Melissa's laughter and Bradley's soft voice. "When are you flying back to the states?" she asked him as you cracked your eyes open. 

"Not any time soon," he replied smoothly. "We have a lot of work to do."

"Well I hope I'm on your flight back," she said flirtatiously as you propped your head up. 

But Bradley wasn't paying attention to her now as he turned your way. "You're up," he mused, and you just nodded, wishing you'd had time to shower or check how you looked before he saw you. "We'll be landing soon. And then we'll get you and your designer luggage to the yacht."

You watched Melissa roll her eyes at you before she stood. "I'll be right back with coffee and some breakfast."

"Hold the cherries! Please!" you reminded her, just to be obnoxious. When she pretended she didn't hear you, Bradley chuckled. "You know, it's kind of refreshing being given an attitude. Is this how you feel when I give you one?"

His eyes went a little wider. "Don't make me call your father."

"I thought you valued your intern," you replied with a smirk. "So don't make me spread that nasty little rumor around Avio that you went to the University of Bumblefuck."

"Virginia," he snorted.

"Whatever."

Melissa dropped off mugs, a carafe of coffee, cream, sugar and pastries. "No cherry," she said blandly as you reached for a blueberry muffin. 

"Much appreciated," you replied as you peeled back the wrapper and took a nibble while Bradley ate an apple danish in two bites before he poured coffee into both mugs. Clearly the two of you were hungry. You also had no idea what time it was. You had to put your phone on silent since your dad wouldn't stop calling you, even though you told him you'd talk to him when you got on the yacht.

"How do you take your coffee?" Bradley asked as you silently chewed. You went to reach for the creamer, but he pulled it away and looked at you. 

You swallowed down your muffin and said, "Cream and sugar, but you don't have to do it. I should probably be doing it for both of us."

He shrugged and got your coffee fixed up exactly the way you would have made it yourself, as he said, "You and I will be working in close proximity, and I feel like this is the kind of detail I should know."

"Well how do you take your coffee?" you asked, but he set down the cream and sugar without adding anything to his. "Black, no sugar."

"Black, no sugar," he confirmed before taking a sip. You watched the alluring scars on his neck as he swallowed, once again surprised that he wasn't married. He didn't seem as helpless as your father, but he seemed like the kind of person who should have someone warm at home when he returned from work each night. Someone to look after him. 

You took a sip of your own coffee and smiled, because it really was perfect, especially for something that was made on an aircraft. "Thank you."

"Any time," he responded, and you eased back in your seat and looked out the window as the Portuguese coastline came into view. You drank your coffee and picked at the muffin, watching as the very early morning sun made the Atlantic Ocean glitter. There were marinas filled with yachts and sailboats, and you wondered if Avio's was amongst them. 

"Were you on the yacht with my dad last year?" you mused as the plane dipped lower in the sky.

Bradley set his mug down, and maybe it was just you, but his features suddenly seemed a little guarded. You'd always been good at reading people, which made it easy to get a favorable response when you needed one. But he'd never looked at you this way before. "For a few days. One of my buddies from the Navy was there too. Jake Seresin."

You blinked and his expression was neutral again. "The name sounds familiar."

Bradley laughed as the plane touched down. "The face will be familiar, too. Soon enough. He's champing at the bit to get onboard for a few days here and there this summer."

You set your mug down as well and said, "Don't worry, Sir. I'll dazzle him to bits during the dinner parties."

Bradley's nostrils flared, and his pupils grew wider. "I don't doubt that."

When you laughed, he smiled before looking down at his hands. "Well, Bradley, I don't know about you, but I can't wait to get on the yacht. I wonder what kind of caviar the chef will serve for lunch."

You unbuckled your seatbelt, prompting him to do the same. "There are different kinds of caviar?" he asked, one eyebrow raised as he picked up your tote and handed it to you. 

"Don't embarrass me, Bradley. The other interns will all laugh at me behind my back."

But he just shook his head as he moved to the side and said, "After you, Ivy League." So you led the way to the front of the aircraft, thanked both pilots and Melissa, even though she clearly didn't like you, and you climbed down the stairs onto the warm tarmac. 

You shouldn't and absolutely couldn't keep reacting to Bradley the way you were, but when he placed his hand on your lower back and said, "This way," you nearly moaned. You looked up at him as he tried to guide you toward the waiting limousine. "Go climb in. I'll grab the bags."

"I can get my own bags," you insisted.

"I know you can, but you have nine hundred of them, and I'm still hungry, and I can do it faster."

"Fine," you replied, and you could feel his gaze on your back as you walked toward the driver who was holding the back door open for you. "Thank you." As you slid across the leather seat, you watched Bradley effortlessly lift multiple pieces of your luggage at the same time while you bit your lip. What the hell was it about him? You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but he was enjoyable to watch. His voice made you feel a little fuzzy. He was raw and genuine like your favorite pair of well worn Levi's which were tucked away in your Dior suitcase he was carrying with one massive hand. 

You looked away. You counted to ten. You already knew this was going to be an issue, so you weren't sure why it was hitting you now. When you glanced his way again, he was bringing his own two, nondescript pieces of luggage to the limousine trunk, and then he was sliding across the seat next to you.

"Twenty minutes to the marina from here," he murmured, his hand coming to rest on the seat next to your thigh. "And then we can get to work."

You pursed your lips. "I was under the impression we would be playing, too."

He chuckled as you started to look through the compartments next to the seat. "We can play a little bit."

You opened what turned out to be an ice chest, and ran your fingers along a bottle of chilled Dom Perignon. "We can start with this," you said, pulling it free from the ice and holding it up.

He was looking at you, not the bottle, but that little twitch of his mustache was his tell. Even though his eyes seemed stern, he held out his hand, and asked, "Think we can finish it in twenty minutes?" 

You smiled brilliantly as you handed it to him. "Don't ever ask me that again."

"Sassy," he muttered, unwrapping the foil and slowly twisting the cage loose before wiggling the cork free with his big hands until it popped. "Here you go."

"No," you insisted as the driver pulled out onto the main road. "You first. Drink to a successful summer."

Bradley nodded once and took a sip before handing you the bottle. His eyes were on your lips as you pressed them to the bottle where his had just been. "To a successful summer," he echoed, his voice a deep rumble as the city went by in a blur. You couldn't stop smiling, and neither could he, and approximately eighteen minutes later, when he helped you out of the limousine, his cheeks were flushed pink.

"Is that it?" you asked, very slowly removing your hand from his as two men rushed your way in matching gray shorts and navy polos. There was a massive yacht with Down to Business lettered across the back and Avio Technologies along the side.  

"That's it," Bradley confirmed, slipping his black sunglasses on as he reached to shake hands with the two men who introduced themselves as Antonio and Nikolai. Bradley told them your name, and they both took your hand in turn. "She's my intern for the summer," he said smoothly, and then they started to unload your luggage. 

"Let's go," you said, glancing back at Bradley as you started down toward the marina gate, and then he was right next to you again with a few long strides. "I hope you can find your Armani swim shorts quickly, because that pool is calling my name." 

"I can, actually. One of the benefits to only bringing two suitcases." He helped you over the gap, and as soon as you were on the yacht, you felt at home. You knew this was going to be the summer you needed.

"Let's go meet the captain," he murmured, his hand finding your back again. 

"Do you think he has more champagne?"

"Ivy... it's nine in the morning."

"I'm still on San Diego time."

Bradley paused for a beat while he did the math. "It's one in the morning back home."

"Exactly," you told him with a little pout that you knew wouldn't actually faze him. He just smiled as he guided you past the pool you couldn't wait to jump into and an enormous jacuzzi. You walked through a dining room that could seat twelve people and past a fully stocked bar. It was like the best offerings from your sorority house and your dad's estate all rolled into one.

"Welcome aboard!" boomed a voice with a French accent. "We've been expecting you. I'm Captain Marcell." He was probably in his sixties with gray hair and a matching beard, and he reminded you a bit of your favorite professor at UPenn.

"Pleasure," you replied, shaking his hand after Bradley told him your name.

Next to him were lined up two friendly looking women, one with short brown hair and one with long brown hair. Beatriz and Lucia, the stewardesses, would be taking care of everything you needed. And next to them was an attractive man wearing a bit of a scowl. 

"I'm Rocco. The chef. I can make anything. I don't like changing the menu at the last minute."

Oh, you liked him already as you shook his hand. And then your heart fluttered as Bradley said, "I need to speak with you about removing any cherries from the yacht before we leave the marina." 

"Cherries?" Rocco asked, scowling deeper.

Bradley glanced at you as he removed his sunglasses, and his mustache twitched. "Yes. Can't have any onboard. That applies to the kitchen and the bars. My intern has an allergy."

"I'll take care of it," Rocco replied before turning away, and you'd never been more certain that someone would take care of something in your life. Then Captain Marcell handed Bradley a folder.

"Rough itinerary. Weather report for the week. List of phone numbers. Please let me know how long you'd like to spend in each port. I can of course adjust anything as needed. Now if you will select your cabins, Antonio and Nikolai will deliver your luggage."

"Thank you," Bradley replied, handing the folder to you. "You're in charge of this. Now why don't we head down so you can choose a room?" He nodded his head toward a wide set of stairs.

You walked down to the lower deck, and once you and he were alone again, he pointed to the left. "The sooner we get settled, the sooner the swim trunks come out?" you asked softly. 

"Something like that." His soft chuckle was right behind you as you stopped at a mint green door with gold trim.

"Is this my room?" you asked, placing your hand on the doorknob. There was a little keypad next to it. 

"If you want it to be," he replied. "Or, there are three others you can choose from."

"Which one are you taking?"

His eyes flitted from your face to a spot a little further down the hallway. "White door."

When you turned to investigate, you saw a pink door directly across from that one. "Wouldn't it be easier if my room was near yours?"

"Probably." His expression was neutral, but that damn mustache was giving him away. 

"I'll take the pink one."

"Very good. I'll get the room codes from Beatriz, and I'll tell them where to deliver the luggage."

"Great," you replied, still standing close to him, but he didn't move.

"Perfect," he said, brown eyes focused on yours. The hallway was narrow, and now he was placing his hands on his trim hips, taking up even more space. "Try not to get into too much trouble while you look around."

Finally he turned toward the stairs, but you called his name right away. "Bradley?" He glanced back over his shoulder with a questioning look. "Thanks for mentioning the cherries."

"Sure," he replied easily. "I got you, Ivy." Then he was walking back up the stairs and out of sight.

---------------------------

We are about to set sail. Let's get into a little trouble. Let's have a little fun. Already feeling a little tension between Bradley and Ivy League. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[oh-no-its-bird]

Please tell me more about force fem Minato being made the shinigami's wife

From this ask meme

I fucking knew someone would single that one out. Anyways, from my notesapp:

Force fem Minato being made the shinigami's wife as punishment for his hubris He and Kushia used to joke about Minato being the wife between the two of them, so he's eventually able to cope w his situation and dissociate by relying on the "I'm Kushina's wife" joke as a crutch to make it all feel slightly less awful The shinigami sends him on errands as his wife (collecting souls lmao) and Minato uses it as an excuse to watch Naruto and Kakashi from affar,, Umm maybe some of the errands involved Minato baiting people into making deals with and summoning his shinigami husband? He is the lure and the shinigami is the stick lmao The shinigami can't actually do things or manifest in the real world without someone first inviting them into their lives, so, like, that's part of what Minato's wife duties are. To get people to open the door to the shinigami. Among other things

+ Bonus which is kind of unrelated but was on the same notes page:

I like Minato for the take that there's something fr wrong w him and he makes a concious effort to appear normal and kind

He's like. Somewhere on the spectrum of sociopathy or has severe borderline personality or just some genuine mental illness and he works very hard, borrowing the mannerisms of those around him, to be charming and nice n stuff

I forget what fic I saw that in but like THATS the fic that made me care ab him

Hashirama 🤝 Minato

'Being friendly to the point that there's smthn genuinley wrong with them'

Minato !! I think he has a lot of untapped potential specifically in the market of fucking w shinigami. Like, what's even up with that? Let's play with that a little.

The man who would kill a thousand people in a day and return home happy to his wife,,, now turned into the wife who the shinigami who would kills thousands in a day returns home to,,, is this karma?

There's a few different directions this could go in tbh— both from the angle of like. How Minato is feeling / what he's going through but also like. Shinigami and yokai lore. What kind of shinigami / yokai lore are we playing with here.

The question isn't just what Minato is going through but also where the fuck is he. Is he in the Shinigami's personal little death dimension? Stuck inside the shinigami mask with him? Or is there some sort of broader shinigami world he's now living in? Is it only the shinigami, who Minato has to deal with? Or does he watch over any of the (no doubt countless) souls the shinigami has in its collection? Does he interact with any other yokai? Are the yokai he meets inside of whatever death dimension he's in or is it that he meets them when he leaves it to run errands? Or in some other, third place? Is Minato even human anymore or does he classify as some sort of yokai now too?

So many fun thoughts!

Anyways ummm. Thinking. Having thoughts. Specifically having abstract thoughts ab some sort of enraged Uzu fox ghost Kushina and new yokai shinigami wife Minato

Kushina's ghost is an Uzumaki one,, she grew up in Uzu where they just kind of have death god shrines n shit, apparently, she was never going to become a normal spirit. And that's not even counting the fox in her + all that weird yin/yang stuff w kurama. She is an angry, angry fox ghost with Uzumaki roots and she wants her wife back !!!

Umm Romeo and Juliet style forbidden love in the afterlife of Minato one day running back into Kushina's spirit (probably while they're both taking a moment to watch over Naruto / check in on Kakashi)

And they like. Do the spider man pointing meme bc HOLY SHIT OMG MY SPOUSE YOURE ALSO TRAPPED IN THIS AFTERLIFE LIMBO and also make out and like tell eachother what they've been doing (Kushina w her cool Uzumaki spirit lore and Minato w his much less cool "yeah so the shinigami um. Turned me into his wife. So.") but then they're forced to separate bc Minato can only leave the shinigami's domain for so long

Forbidden romance under the eye of the shinigami,,, if Minato gets caught the shinigami threatens to make him reap Kushina's soul to add to his collection

Idk but there's just a lot of potential here.

Naruto not from the POV of anyone living but instead from shinigami wife Minato trying to slip in time to see his fox ghost wife again as the plot of Naruto happens in the bg, could be fun

Then the Uchiha massacre happens and suddenly so many more angry spirits are getting added to the mess, oh boy

But yeah thank u for participating in the ask game here is a much longer than I meant for it to be tumblr post as ur payment

[adultbabystories]

A night out at the circus? That was a strange offer by your friends, but you went along. Maybe years have passed by ever since you’ve been to the circus. You wondered if it was like you remembered. Your memory was vague about it, but when you and your friends parked the car, you saw the giant red tent. It was dark, but lights were shining on the red fabric from afar. A red carpet led the way to the entrance. The smell of popcorn and beer filled the space as you got closer. You and your friends were laughing about how silly it was all going to be, holding beers in your hands.

“Hey kids! Get inside quick!” a clown passed before you, shouted in a goofy voice, and squeezed his red big nose.

You threw the empty beer, got a new one, and went quickly inside. Getting inside was a sight to behold. The interior felt bigger than what you imagined from the outside. You and your friends found your places and sat down. The lights turned off and only spotlights lit the ring.

“Howdy folks! Are you ready for the show?” A clown shouted to the crowd as he was holding a comical big microphone.

“YES!” the crowd responded.

“Are you really ready? Let me hear it” The clown looked toward you and pointed, or at least it felt like it.

“YES!” the crowd shouted again.

The show was wild and funny. The clown's customs were colorful and silly. Each one had his own thing and color. One had fuzzy huge purple hair. One had huge shoes he could barely walk in. Another had a nose that covered almost half of his face. But there was one you would never forget his appearance. His face was painted all white, with a red smiley mark covering the lower part of his face, and red curls that looked like red springs, trying to bounce out of his head.

You had so much fun, that you barely noticed the pressure to pee building inside of you from those two giant cups of beer. You didn’t want to leave for the bathroom, the show was so entertaining, so you held it as much as you could. Eventually, you stood up and walked to the outside to find the toilets.

“You! The guy who’s walking outside! STOP!” you heard from the speaker, and the lights hit you.

You turned around and saw the curly clown was pointing at you. The lights washed all over you. You pointed at yourself questionably. 

“Yes you! Where are you going? We are in the middle of the show!” he asked, intending to get the crowd interested in the moment.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” you naively answered.

“Can’t you hold it to the rest of the show? You are such a baby! Isn’t he a baby people?” the clown asked the crowd, making them clap and cheer.

You turned red from embarrassment, gave him your back, and went outside. You had to pee so bad, you didn’t have time to think about what happened, not just yet. The toilets were around the tent, a bit far from the entrance. Next to it, there were the wheeled caravans of the circus crew. You could hear the crowd inside cheering and the faded voices of the clowns.

“Hey there kid, how’s it going? Have you found the bathroom yet?” said the clown with the curly hair.

He must have finished his act and went outside. He was smoking a cigar and the smoke moved around him in the light breeze. He looked at you, without the act from the show.

“No, not yet” you answered.

“It’s not polite what you did back there, only babies can’t hold and wait. You must be a baby. But you are funny, at least I can look at you and see you have The funny in ya. Ever thought about clowning? Do you want to clown around with us?” he asked as you took a big drag from his cigar, putting his lips around it, making it visible for you to see.

“What? Me as a clown? Nah, I have to take a piss, excuse me,” you said and turned away.

“You are certainly not excused.” you heard him say.

A second later, a bag was covering your head and it felt like two strong guys were holding you and dragging you somewhere. You heard a door slamming open and then closing. You don’t know how, but suddenly you were knocked out of consciousness. Sometime later, that could be moments, that could be minutes, you gained your consciousness back. You heard the crowd cheering very closely. Lights were shining into the cotton bag your head was in. You were wearing something else, something that wasn’t your clothes. You felt like you were sitting on something very thick and puffy, which seemed like between your legs as well. Maybe you wore it you thought.

“We have a surprise for you good folks! Do you remember the baby who couldn’t hold it before? Well, I’m glad to tell you that he is a baby! Our new baby clown! Give it up for the biggest baby of them all!”

Someone grabbed your shoulders, squeezed them, and pressed his head to the bag, and whispered.

“This is your birthday baby clown, the crowd is cheering for the new baby, make us proud!”

The bag was lifted from your head. You looked around, shocked. You sat in the center of the ring, in front of the cheering and going wild crowd. The lights were blinding but you could see you were wearing a comically massive white diaper and big red clown shoes. A bib with the words “big baby” was strapped around you by the purple-haired clown. A bonnet hat was strapped around your head by the clown with a big nose. You felt like crying from the humiliation.

“Awwww is baby gonna cry?” the curly clown asked, now not so serious like he was outside, but goofy and cheerful.

He took some kind of blue makeup marker and drew tears on your cheeks.

“Give it up for our crybaby people!” he made the crowd cheer even more.

He took a rolled-up carpet and unrolled it in front of you. It was a childish carpet like you see in nurseries.

“Crawl around for us baby! Let everyone see your wet diaper you needed!” gesturing you onto the carpet.

From the excitement and the commotion, you didn’t even notice you were peeing in your new diaper. Somehow the massive diaper became yellow on the front as you peed. You looked at the wet and yellow diaper, at the carpet, and the gesturing clown, and the cheering crowd. 

“Always, such, a whiny, baby. Folks our baby always wants us to pick him up! But he can crawl, I tell you he can! Cheer for him, tell him to crawl!” the clown thrilled the crowd.

“Crawl! Crawl! Crawl!”

They were cheering for you. They were cheering for the baby clown. You were it, you were the show now, give it to them. Crawl to the carpet. Crawl to the spotlight baby.

-------------------------------------------

My conversation with @itsclowntime about clowning got me really inspired to write this short story. If you like clowning or being naughty thinking about it, check out his page. A side note - I used AI to visualize the story. I hope it adds to your imagination.

[maxdibert]

Agree with your last post. I'm so annoyed by people putting Pandora with Regulus, Barty and Evan or Dorcas with the Slytherin gang or idk what else. Like Pandora was Luna's mother, why are they making her to be friends with canon death eaters? Dorcas was killed by Voldemort personally, why are they making her to be so young? Idk it's making me sad that people don't even try to respect the canon story and its characters and expand upon that. Instead they completely butcher it. I understand having fun but these headcanons have completely overshadowed the correct information we have and people now pretend like they have some canon merit.

Pandora is Luna's mother, and that's all we know about her. At what point does she magically end up being the same age as the Marauders? Why turn her into a Rosier? Where did the ridiculous idea come from that she was best friends with Barty Crouch Jr.? Like, hello? She's not Luna's mother; she's just an OC someone made up to fit their narrative, and they justify her existence by saying she’ll eventually become that Pandora. End of story. Like everything they write and do. Their Marauders aren't the real Marauders. That's not James; it's some random guy they invented and slapped his name on, and the same goes for the rest of them. What even is a Dorcas Meadowes? Is that something you can eat? And what's a Marlene McKinnon? Nobody cares—they're not real characters. We don’t care about them, especially if you only include them to hit a lesbian target audience or so the stories aren’t overwhelmingly male-centered and ridiculously problematic because the female presence and relevance don’t even hit the minimum gender quotas from two decades ago, like…

They say "fuck canon," but only to have an excuse to whitewash psychopaths and portray them as twink icons. It makes no sense. I insist: they could create their own lore within the Harry Potter universe. Take all those OCs, remove the canon names of characters they have nothing in common with, give them original and unique names, and create a new category on AO3 for the lore you've created. You wouldn’t be the first to do it, and it’s totally valid. And stop setting the stories in the '70s because all those OCs with canon names act like Gen Z kids—or even Gen Alphas—living in pre-Thatcher Britain, like, what the hell?

The best thing about the First Wizarding War universe years ago was that the CANON was unexplored, and you could create fascinating things. But always based on the CANON. Because no, “fuck canon” doesn’t work, because if you say “fuck canon,” then you're just talking about characters you don’t like. You say you’re a fan of Sirius Black, but you’re not a fan of Sirius Black. You’re a fan of an original fanfic character with traits that have nothing to do with Sirius Black, but you slapped his name on it—why? Sirius Black was the tallest, most handsome, and most masculine and violent of the Marauders in canon. He wasn’t a girly, whiny twink. Rowling spends the ENTIRE saga CONSTANTLY emphasizing how masculine, how macho, how handsome, how masculine, how handsome, and (again) how masculine Sirius Black was. Over and over. The only other character Rowling insists so much on describing physically is Snape, but only to constantly point out how ugly he is and ironically assign him FEMININE traits. Snape, who is canonically unattractive but also canonically not masculine by patriarchal standards, is someone super macho types like Sirius mocked precisely for that.

I think the problem with this fandom is that they want to be the protagonists, the cool kids, the main characters everyone admires. But the reality of the canon is that both the Marauders and the pure-blood Slytherins of the era would have hated, mocked, and marginalized people with the characteristics fans assign to these characters in fandom. That Sirius the fandom adores wouldn’t have lasted half an hour with the real teenage Sirius Black, who would have bullied him immediately for being “weird.” The fandom’s James would have been ridiculed by canon James, who would’ve seen him as a total loser. Fandom Barty? Canon Barty would’ve Crucio’d him to bits. Canon Regulus would’ve paid someone to drown fandom Regulus. And yes, that Severus fandom invented—a sort of rapist or something—would’ve disgusted canon Severus, who didn’t even dare say anything to Lily. But honestly, who’s that fandom Lily? Because canon Lily didn’t know what feminism was and was dying to have a traditional family before 20 with a rich guy who could give her financial stability. Like, seriously, xD.

I’m sorry, but your OCs wouldn’t last half an hour in '70s Hogwarts because both sides would tear them to pieces. And in the end, all the “fuck canon” rhetoric is just a way to deny that they need to project themselves as protagonists, but they know they never would be in the Marauders’ lore because, in that context, they’d end up as bad or worse than Snape. And that’s precisely why they hate Snape so much—because that character constantly reminds them that, in fact, the Marauders were bullies. And they were bullies to those who didn’t have the looks, social class, appearance, or clothes deemed acceptable. Snape is actually the closest thing to themselves that fans of the Marauders will ever find, and that reminds them that in that universe, they would’ve been the nerds, losers, and outcasts of the class.

I’m sorry for being so harsh, but it’s true. They’ve invented characters in their own image, slapped canon names on them to feel important and central, but the reality is that the actual canon characters would’ve bullied them so much they’d have ended up the same or worse than Snape.

[vintageshanny]

Waiting for Love - Part One

He’s a Married Man

I felt inspired and started a brand new series! It’s a bit different from anything else I’ve done, and I’d love to hear your thoughts and feedback! ❤️

Content: Story starts in summer of 1970, marriage problems, infidelity, smut (lighter in this first chapter but still there), fun Elvis-y things, 18+

Read the full series here!

Early July 1970

Vivien walked slowly past the Graceland gate on her way home from work. She always told herself that if she didn’t actually stop and wait, she wasn’t one of those crazy obsessed fans. She was just a normal curious person. Who walked five blocks out of her way every day in a pathetic attempt to catch a glimpse of Elvis Presley. There were a few other fans milling about, but it was too hot for a huge crowd. Right as she was about to cross over the driveway entrance, a big black car came roaring down the street, barely slowing to turn into the drive where the gate was starting to open. Vivien’s jaw dropped open as Elvis himself leaned out of the passenger window with a big smile.

“Hey, honey, didn’t mean ta scare ya. Got a crazy driver here,” he said, pointing a thumb over at the stocky man behind the wheel. Elvis gave Vivien a quick glance up and down and smiled again. “Were ya waitin’ for me?”

Vivien smoothed out her knee-length skirt and quickly glanced down to make sure none of the buttons on her short-sleeved blouse had popped open. She was always having trouble with that third one down. The one that would reveal the most, of course. So far, so good. “Oh, um,” she stumbled over her words. “I, um, was walking home from work, but it is nice to see you though.” Her face turned red as Elvis chuckled.

“It’s nice ta see you too, honey. It’s too hot ta be sittin’ out here talkin’, but why don’t ya come to the movies with us t’night,” he said it as more of statement than a question. “A group of us are goin’ to the Memphian. Just come in the side door at 10:00 and say Joe invited you.” The driver rolled his eyes at this, but neither Vivien nor Elvis seemed to notice.

Vivien tried in vain to keep her cool as she exclaimed, “Oh, wow, okay, I’d love to.” As she pushed her glasses up on her nose, she made eye-contact with Elvis right as he was also adjusting his own tinted glasses. They both laughed, and Elvis gave her a little wink.

“Okay, honey, I’ll see ya t’night,” he called out as the car continued up the winding driveway. Vivien was pretty sure her smile was lighting up the whole city as she continued her walk home.

As soon as she got inside her apartment, she picked up the phone. “Roxanne, I need you to come over right now. It’s a fashion emergency.” Ten minutes later, her best friend arrived at the door from her apartment two buildings down, panting and out of breath.

“I got here as fast as I could! What’s going on? Hot date?” Roxanne asked as she barged in and flopped on the couch.

Vivien bobbed up and down excitedly as she squealed, “I’m going to the Memphian with Elvis Presley!”

“What?! When?!” Roxanne exclaimed, jumping up from the couch and then sinking back down onto it in shock.

“Tonight! I told you my walking by the gate every day would pay off eventually,” Vivien announced triumphantly. “And you have to go with me! I’m sure he wouldn’t mind; he said it would be a big group.”

Roxanne’s face dropped a little bit. “I can’t tonight!” she wailed. “Michael made us reservations for this fancy anniversary dinner, and he’ll kill me if I bail on him. Especially for another man. I’ll just have to live vicariously through your stories about the night,” she sighed dreamily.

“Has it been one year already? I didn’t know you had it in you,” Vivien teased.

“Oh, very funny, goody two-shoes,” Roxanne retorted. “At least I’ve had something in me.” Vivien blushed at that dig. She’d always been holding out for something really special. “Speaking of that,” Roxanne continued, “are you gonna try to hook up with him tonight?”

“Who? Elvis?” Vivien asked with shock.

“No, the pope. Of course Elvis! He invited you personally, he probably thought you looked cute in your little secretary outfit,” Roxanne said with a knowing wink.

“N-no, he-he’s a married man,” Vivien sputtered out. “I’m just excited to be around him and maybe talk to him. I bet he’s so interesting to talk to.”

“Hmm,” Roxanne tutted disapprovingly. “Well, I think you should go for it. I heard that marriage has been on the rocks since the beginning anyway,” she said as Vivien shot her a look. “I’m just saying, you could be waiting in the wings. Now let’s find you something to wear.”

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

At 9:55pm, Vivien stepped off the bus two blocks from the theater, feeling severely overdressed in a low-cut sparkly cocktail dress and red kitten heels, her wavy dark brown hair pulled back off her face with a jeweled hair clip. Well, that’s what she got for asking Roxanne’s advice. She should’ve known she’d be sent out into the world looking like a good-time girl. Roxanne also told her, in no uncertain terms, that she was not to wear her glasses. Despite the fact that she wouldn’t be able to see the movie, or probably even recognize Elvis from across the lobby, she followed the advice and tucked them in her purse before heading toward the side door of the theater as instructed.

A red-headed man was acting as some sort of security guard right outside the door. Vivien told him she was invited by Joe and he held the door open for her to go in. She was surprised to find that the side door led directly into the darkened theater. Patton was just starting. She squinted down the aisle looking for any familiar faces but found nothing, so she nervously sat down in an empty seat, wondering if she would even see Elvis at all. Her nerves, plus the fact that everything on the screen looked fuzzy, made it hard to even focus on what was happening in the movie. She decided to sneak out to the lobby and see if the concession stand had anything that might settle her stomach, which had been doing flip-flops since she stepped off the bus. She rose and quickly scurried down the aisle, trying not to block anyone’s view of the movie.

Vivien pulled her wallet out of her purse to pay for her 7-Up and noticed she had brought a copy of Khalil Gibran’s The Prophet, one of her favorite books. She decided maybe she’d just find a spot to sit and read until the movie was over. Maybe she could catch Elvis’ attention on his way out. She wandered the little lobby looking for a spot to sit and ran right into Elvis coming out of the bathroom. His driver from earlier was standing next to the door. Vivien thought maybe she imagined it, but it looked like Elvis’ face lit up when he saw her.

“She is here!” Elvis turned to Joe and glared at him. “I told ya ta bring her ta sit with me when she got here.”

“I told Red to let me know when she got here! I said she had long dark hair and glasses…” Joe’s voice trailed off as he realized Vivien no longer matched his description.

Elvis started laughing as he realized what the problem was. “Why’d ya take your cute glasses off, honey? How’s anyone supposed ta find ya?”

Vivien smiled shyly. “Bad advice from a friend, I guess,” she said, fishing in her purse for her glasses. “Plus I didn’t know you’d be looking for me.”

“Hey, whatcha got there? The Prophet?” Elvis asked excitedly, noticing the book peeking out of her purse.

“Oh, yeah, I never go anywhere without a book,” Vivian admitted, feeling silly. Elvis looked at her, his eyes literally twinkling with delight.

“That’s one of my favorite books! You should come visit me tomorrow, I’d love ta talk to ya about it.” Elvis had now moved so close that their arms were touching. Vivien could hardly breath, so intoxicating was his presence.

“Are-are you sure?” she asked. “I mean, I’d love to talk to you more, but I don’t want to impose.”

“It’s no imposition, honey, I’m always up for some good conversation. Plus the guys’ll be busy tomorrow, right, Joe?” Elvis gave him a pointed look, letting him know they should make themselves busy. “I’ll be wantin’ some company. You don’t want me sittin’ there all lonely, do ya?” Vivien felt goosebumps raise on her skin as Elvis ran the backs of his fingers down her upper arm.

“No, of course not,” she whispered, suddenly unsure of exactly what he was asking. “I’d love to keep you company.” She felt embarassed at how flirty she was being with this married man, but she also couldn’t seem to stop smiling at him. It was all so surreal. Elvis pulled her in a for a tight hug, his arms wrapped all the way around her so that his fingers were brushing along the sides of her breasts. The affection he displayed had her weak in the knees.

“I’ll see ya tomorrow, honey. Come by around three. After breakfast,” he smiled and gave her a peck on the cheek. He started to walk away and then quickly turned back, asking, “What’s your name, dear? In case ya try ta go incognito again.”

“Vivien,” she said with a smile. “What’s yours?” Elvis tilted his head back and let out a loud burst of laughter before walking away. Vivien was floating so high that she almost didn’t wonder why he no longer wanted her to come sit with him. She supposed he’d found a new seat mate when he thought she wasn’t there. Maybe his wife?, she wondered. But then why would he be looking for me?

After the movies were over, Vivien hoped to say goodbye to Elvis again, but he was surrounded by fans, and she felt silly interrupting. She observed that he was affectionate with almost everyone, and worried she had read way too much into their conversation. Does he even really want me to come over? Since he had insisted, she decided it would be rude to not show up, but she tried to get her expectations in check. Plus, he’s a married man, she reminded herself.

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

The next day was Saturday, thank goodness, because Vivien had given no thought to her work schedule when agreeing to these outings. She wondered if Elvis even kept track of the days of the week like normal people had to. She had already decided not to call Roxanne until she got back from Graceland later. She didn’t want anyone else’s thoughts getting in her head; she was confused enough on her own. Unsure of what to wear or how fancy she should look, she decided to just be comfortable in some black capri pants and a red and white striped shirt that hugged her body in the way she liked. She slipped on some sandals, grabbed her book and purse, and headed out the door.

It was much more pleasant outside than it had been the day before, which was a relief. Vivien thought how awkward it would be to show up with sweat dripping down her face. Whoever was at the gate must have been expecting her, because they opened it right away and told her to just knock on the front door. Elvis answered the door himself, wearing crisp white pants and a satin-y red shirt with arm garters. His feet were bare, which made her heart flutter for some reason.

“Vivien! Perfect timing! I just finished gettin’ dressed,” he smiled. “Come on in.” He led her into a beautiful living room with a massively long couch. She noticed a framed photo on the coffee table of him, Priscilla, and their cute little daughter.

“You have a beautiful family, Elvis,” she commented when he noticed her staring at the picture.

“Oh, thanks,” he said, sounding a little dismissive of the compliment. “‘Cilla’s out of town right now. She went to visit her parents with Lisa.” He seemed to be answering a question that had been hanging in the air, unasked. Vivien just nodded and tried to look like this fact didn’t both excite and worry her.

“I brought my book. Is there any particular chapter you wanted to talk about?” she asked, hoping to guide the conversation away from absent spouses.

“All of it!” he said excitedly. She noticed he had a copy sitting on the coffee table as well. “Sit down and make yourself comfortable, honey. You can take your sandals off and just set your feet here.” He indicated the space on the couch next to him. Feeling a little self-conscious, Vivien curled up so that she was leaning slightly away from him but her bare feet were next to him. While they talked, Elvis would occasionaly rest his hand on her ankle or rub his fingers absent-mindedly over the top of her foot. It was very soothing. He didn’t seem to be aiming for anything more, just a soft, gentle affection. When the phone rang, he excused himself and said he’d be right back. He seemed slightly agitated when he returned.

“What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” Vivien questioned, noticing his tense demeanor.

“Yeah, honey, ever’thing’s fine,” he drawled. The butterflies in Vivien’s stomach flew into overdrive at the way the word “honey” always dripped off his tongue like the sweet sticky substance itself. Elvis sighed and continued on without any prompting, unable to keep his frustration to himself. “It’s jus’ ‘Cilla, she’s always got-got-gotta be so suspicious of me,” he vented, his irritation clearly growing. “She c-c-can’t believe I’d jus’ be talkin’ ta someone about books and stuff that she’s not even interested in. It’s always gotta be somethin’...nefarious with her,” he emphasized each syllable of “nefarious” and rubbed the back of his neck as he leaned back next to Vivien on the couch.

She swallowed nervously and nodded, trying not to be distracted by the way his chubby penis flopped loosely against his thigh when he leaned back, clearly uncontrained by any underwear. She actually wasn’t sure if it was chubby, but it looked like it would be, and she’d been sneaking enough glances at it to feel like she had an idea of what it would look like if he exposed it to her…Vivien was pulled out of her less-than-wholesome thoughts by the realization that Elvis had followed her eyes down to his lap and seemed to be reading her thoughts as if they were comic strip bubbles showing next to her head. Instead of the bravado he sometimes exuded, Vivien was surprised to see him blush and rest his hand on his lap in a way that blocked her view.

“W-w-where were we?” he stuttered, thumbing through the well-loved pages of The Prophet, pretending not to notice the way Vivien’s racing heartbeat seemed to make the whole couch shudder with desire.

“Don’t be too hard on her,” Vivien blurted out against her better judgment, causing Elvis to look up in surprise, his mouth slightly agape. “I mean,” Vivien began to ramble nervously, “if I were, um, if you and I, I mean,” she fought back at the tears of embarassment that were welling up in her eyes and started again. “If I had you, I wouldn’t probably like you talking to another woman much either,” Vivien cringed at her awkward wording. “I’d want you all to myself all the time, especially to talk about things you’re so passionate about,” she finished with a whisper, looking down nervously at her red-painted fingernails.

Elvis nodded his head slowly, considering her words. “W-w-well, ‘Cilla ain’t like that though. She ain’t interested in these things. Sometimes I feel we have nothin’ in common…” his voice trailed off sadly as he seemed to be contemplating all his life decisions in this moment. Then his soft lips tugged up into a crooked smirk and he looked over at Vivien slyly. “How often do ya think about havin’ me?” The bravado was back.

Sneaking just the tiniest peek back down at his crotch, Vivien racked her brain for a witty answer that wouldn’t sound ridiculous and came up with nothing. “It sure looks nice out,” she quickly changed the subject with a glance out the window.

“It sure does, honey,” Elvis chuckled. “We should take a break from the book and go for a swim.” Vivien flushed at the thought of seeing Elvis’ body in just some swim trunks.

“Oh, um, I don’t have a swimsuit with me,” she explained as he sized her up appraisingly.

“That’s okay, dear, I think I have somethin’ for ya,” he said, jumping up and hurrying upstairs. He came back five minutes later with a beaming grin and a little red and white polka dot bikini. “I bet this’ll fit ya okay.” Something in his cheeky grin told Vivien that he wouldn’t be too upset if it didn’t fit quite right. It looked very tiny.

“Oh, Elvis, I can’t wear your wife’s swimsuit,” Vivien protested, but he had clearly already made his mind up.

“It-it’s fine, honey, she ain’t gonna miss it. She had ten of ‘em up there, brand new, I jus’ cut the tags off.” Elvis grabbed her hand and pulled her along to the room leading out to the pool area. He nodded to the changing area and told her to just meet him out at the pool when she was ready. Vivien wriggled herself into the little suit and nervously eyed her reflection in the full-length mirror. Everything essential was covered, but a soft little roll of skin was squeezing out from the suit bottom, her butt felt too exposed, and her breasts were spilling out slightly from the molded cups on top. She bit down on her lip, trying to make a quick decision. If she got right in the water, the ill-fitting suit wouldn’t be too noticeable. She decided it would be much more embarassing to have to get dressed again and go tell him that the suit was too small.

Elvis let out a low whistle from his lawn chair as soon as she stepped outside. So much for sneaking right into the water, Vivien thought as Elvis jumped up and circled around her. Her heart started racing at the sight of him in little red swim shorts and a striped shirt. She sinfully wondered if there was any chance of something flopping out the bottom of the shorts.

“Damn, baby, I like the way you fill that suit out,” Elvis murmured as his eyes stayed a second too long on her overflowing bikini top.

“It’s a little too small,” Vivien couldn’t stop herself from pointing out.

“Nah, honey, it looks perfect.” That crooked smile sent the butterflies on another flight. “Now the rule is, to enter the pool, ya have ta go off the diving board,” Elvis announced with a mischievous smile.

“Oh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Vivien responded, thinking of all the body parts that could come flying out of her suit upon impact with the water.

“C’mon, Vivien,” he teased, giving her bare sides a little tickle with his long warm fingers. Her skin felt on fire from his touch. “Don’t be a party pooper. I’ll even go first!” He peeled off his t-shirt, causing a strange tingle to shoot through Vivien’s core, tossed it aside, and sprang into a messy dive, his long legs flailing a bit in the air. He surfaced, spitting water in the air like a fountain and beckoning her to come in. Vivien set her glasses on a little table by the chair, walked gingerly until her toes were at the edge of the diving board, took a deep breath, and plunged in, hoping for the best.

As she came up for air and pushed her dripping wet hair out of her face, she caught the flustered look on Elvis’ face that made her realize that her fear had come true. She glanced down to where his eyes were fixated on her chest, his lips hanging open slightly as his tongue subconciously slipped out and licked them. Vivien let out a little yelp when she saw that one of her nipples had escaped out of the bikini top and she quickly moved to tuck it back where it belonged. She covered her face in embarassment as Elvis swam closer to her. He pulled her hands down from her face and drew her into a gentle hug.

“Hey now, honey, ‘s okay. I wasn’t even lookin’...too much,” he said, trying to stifle a laugh as Vivien swatted at him.

“It’s not funny, Elvis, I’m embarassed,” she whispered, unable to look him in the eye.

“Aw, honey, you ain’t never gotta be embarassed around me. And it’s jus’ us here, okay? Good thing all the guys had errands to run today, ‘cuz I want ya ta save that show only for me, okay?” Vivien finally smiled a little at that and nodded. “Would it make ya feel any better ta see my nipples?” Elvis joked, pushing his chest out in an exaggerated fashion. Vivien laughed and blushed as she eyed his torso, willing her eyes not to keep going down further, but that little trail of hair leading down past his belly button was just so enticing. “Hey, my nipples are up here,” Elvis teased, catching her under the chin with his tanned fingers. Vivien’s head was swimming at how flirtatious things had gotten since she’d admitted that she had thought of… “having him.” He’s a married man…hold it together, Vivien, she whispered inside her head. As if sensing her nervousness, Elvis quickly changed the subject, pulling her over to lean against the wall of the pool. “I’ve been talkin’ your ear off all day about my problems. Tell me somethin’ about you, honey.”

“Um, well, I’m 21, I work as a secretary at a law firm, I was named after Vivien Leigh,” she started out tentatively, wondering how much Elvis was really interested in anything about her life.

“Really? Vivien Leigh?” he exclaimed, his rapt attention giving her the confidence to continue.

“Yeah, my mom really loved Gone With the Wind,” she said with a laugh. As she talked about her family, Vivien took note of how Elvis’ eyes and nose crinkled up so cutely when he laughed, how the drying hair of his sideburns curled up and tucked into his ears, how the hint of gray at his temples sparkled in the sunlight. As he reached over and brushed a stray hair out of her face, a little shiver ran through her body.

“Is the wa-wa too cold, honey?” he asked, looking concerned. “Lemme help ya onto the ledge here so you can warm up in the sun.” He lifted Vivien onto the ledge and leaned in between her legs as he sat her down. “That better?” She nodded and her breath caught in her throat as she stared down into his sparkly blue eyes. “Vivien, you are beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned in and pressed his pillowly lips to hers, slipping his tongue gently into her mouth. As he moved his lips down to the soft skin of her breast that was spilling out of the bikini top, her brain was screaming at her to stop him, but she couldn’t stop her body from responding to his every touch. He pulled the cup down a little bit, popping her nipple back out into the warm sunshine. Vivien let out an involuntary little gasp as he touched his tongue to her nipple and then sucked it into his mouth. As he rubbed his thumb over the saliva he left on it, he whispered, “See you ain’t gotta feel bad around me at all, honey. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” He tucked it back into her top before leaning his head down and kissing her thigh. “Mmm, honey, you are drivin’ me crazy in this little suit. I see your cute little beaver wants ta come out and visit me,” he murmured as his fingers traced up Vivien’s inner thighs and rubbed gently at the dark wiry hairs escaping from the elastic of the bikini bottoms. Elvis hooked his long index finger into the elastic and tugged it to the side. He let out a groan as he slipped his fingers through the wetness. “You’re glistenin’ for me, Vivien,” he said with a smile.

“Elvis, I, um, ohhhh,” Vivien let out a load moan as Elvis slipped a finger inside of her. He tried to pump it, but her whole body seemed to tense up and his finger was meeting too much resistance. “Elvis, I’m sorry, um, I’m,” she started to explain her embarassing lack of experience, but Elvis shushed her gently. He straightened her suit out and pulled her back into the water, into his arms.

“Shh, ‘s okay, honey. You’re a good girl ain’t cha? I can feel it,” he whispered as he rubbed her back soothingly. “We ain’t gotta do anything you don’t wanna do.”

“It’s, it’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just, um, I care about you Elvis. I don’t want to be something nefarious for you. I want to be something good.” Elvis looked a little shocked and - delighted maybe? - that someone would care enough about him to reject him, in a way. There was a warm glow on his face as he looked at Vivien tenderly.

“Can we jus’ be friends for now then? I really love talkin to ya, honey,” he said softly. “And, like I said, we ain’t gotta do anything you ain’t ready for. I jus’ want your company.”

Vivien nodded and looked up into his eyes. “I’d love to be friends. I think you’re a really special person,” she added, causing Elvis to blush.

After they were dressed and saying their goodbyes, Elvis promised to give her a call to come back and talk about the book some more. He leaned down and pressed a soft sweet kiss to her lips. “Not nefarious, just friendly,” he whispered as he pulled away with that lopsided smile. Vivien smiled and nodded, even as the gentle poke from something firm and definitely chubby below his belt told her that wasn’t quite true. And next time, she wasn’t sure she’d have the wherewithal to stop him from exploring her in any way he wanted. She walked away from the mansion feeling giddy, confused, thrilled, and terrified.

Tag List (please let me know if you want to be added or removed): @whositmcwhatsit @lookingforrainbows @arrolyn1114 @thatbanditqueen @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @from-memphis-with-love

[nicksbestie]

HI!!!! im back hehe >:]

can u please write an fem agere!reader x [kinda] cg jake & johnnie where;

> reader is colouring and starts slipping into a regressed mind without trying

> jake n johnnie then start talking to her but shes all baby [she doesnt realise while shes talking to them]

> so they both gotta figure it out [theyre confused at first]

> then when they realise whats going on [bc she told them about it a while ago] they try to take care of her

[hope this makes sense LOL]

Coloring - Johnnie Guilbert + Jake Webber

Summary : When an activity that you're doing to cure boredom causes you to slip, you're incredibly lucky that your best friends are so wonderful.

Pairing : Jake Webber/Reader (platonic), Johnnie Guilbert/Reader (platonic)

Word Count : 1276

Warnings : none!!

A/N : This is an age regression fic, which is purely safe for work and innocent. Any hate/disrespect towards me, my work, or readers, will not be tolerated.

There were some activities that never stopped being fun despite the process of growing up. Coloring was one of those things for you, and it had always been something that you did for fun, to unwind, and you had continued to enjoy the activity regardless of how old you were. It was something that turned off your brain for a while, and let you relax, listen to music in the background, and just tune out the rest of the world. You loved the way that it was able to give you some quiet space for yourself, knowing that you often needed it. However, sometimes the activity could be more child-like, and it could be a trigger for your headspace. 

It wasn’t often that just the simple thing of coloring pushed you into your headspace, but if you were really exhausted, or upset, or if you were feeling any other emotion stronger than you normally would be, then it was a possibility that it could cause you to slip. This was why you would usually color alone if too tired or sad, just so that you didn’t run the risk of anyone walking in should you slip. You lived with your two best friends, who both knew about your littlespace after a long, awkward, conversation, because they came home once while you were small. They had luckily been incredibly accepting and loving, and had been there for you when you needed anything since that point. 

You hadn’t taken them up on it, not wanting to bother them, and still having some anxiety around it. But you made sure that they both knew just how much you appreciated the support and kindness that they consistently displayed, always making sure that you were happy, as much as possible. Jake had already had his assumptions about what was going on before he found out, but he had pushed it to the back of his mind until that one day that he had walked in. He was always the most gentle with you, always watching to make sure that everything was okay, that you were comfortable and felt safe, even in his own presence. 

Today, you weren’t feeling upset at all, and so, you were coloring at the coffee table in front of the television. There was a random show playing in the background, and you were working on a mandala coloring, switching from marker to marker every time you started on a new detail. You had been working on it for a while, and were almost finished with it. By the time you finished it, you set it to the side, tearing another of the mandala designs out of the book, since it had perforated pages. It was much easier for you to color when your page was directly on a flat surface and not just the book, and you didn’t have to worry about the markers bleeding through the paper onto the design behind it, effectively ruining it. 

You were about halfway through the next drawing when you heard the garage open, and Jake’s car pulled in seconds later. You were glad that the garage had alerted you to them being home, because your back was facing the door, and if they had just walked in behind you, it probably would’ve startled you. You didn’t acknowledge when the door did eventually open, until you heard Jake yell a loud “We’re back!”. You smiled, turning around to wave at them, returning the hello as well. Johnnie walked over to see what you were doing, hugging you before glancing down at the paper in front of you. 

“What’cha coloring?” 

You smiled, picking up the page and showing it to him. You were always incredibly proud of the colorings that you had finished, because to you, it showed a lot of patience and dedication. Johnnie smiled, telling you it looked amazing. Jake put the stuff that they had bought, probably for his next video, and walked over to also take a look. He saw the one you were working on, and the one that you had finished earlier. 

“These look amazing! I love them.” 

You smiled, the praise getting to you and causing you to blush a little bit. You couldn’t deny that you did seek their approval, and it always made you feel super happy when you got it. Not that it was hard to earn, but still, it always felt like somewhat of a reward. You weren’t overly tired or upset today, but the gentle praise and soft smiles did make you feel like you were going to eventually slip. Choosing to not say anything else, you just continued to smile and work on the page you were coloring. Johnnie sat down on the couch next to you, passing you markers every now and then, throwing an arm around you and watching the show you had turned on as well.

Jake was doing something or other in the kitchen, probably making food, and when he offered Johnnie chicken nuggets, he noticed the way you lit up and immediately put some in for you. Once they had finished cooking, he brought you over a plate at the same time that he brought the nuggets over for Johnnie. You noticed once it was sitting in front of you that all of the nuggets were cut into smaller pieces, and you had a feeling that these two were just out to get you. 

“Be careful, okay? You don’t wanna spill anything on the couch.” 

Nodding, you started eating, continuing to color between bites. It was the combination of the cut up food, the coloring, the comforting arm around your shoulders, and the babying tone that was being used when speaking to you that caused you to eventually give in to your headspace, yet staying quiet because you do still harbor a little bit of fear about it. It wasn’t until Jake and Johnnie began having a conversation, filled with cursing and inappropriate jokes, that they realized. They made a crude joke to you, and you simply just stared at them, mumbling a soft 

“Don say dat. Bad words.”

It was at this point that they simply stared back at you, completely confused at the sudden change, before snapping out of it. Jake was the first one to say anything, passing you another marker and side hugging you. 

“You’re right, honey, I’m sorry.” 

When Johnnie realized the tone of voice that was being used, he understood what was going on, and he couldn’t help but think that you were absolutely adorable. They both felt so honored that they were trusted with such a vulnerable part of your life. They both began making sure that everything around you was appropriate. Johnnie switched the channel, and Jake gently offered a different coloring book, one that had lots of cartoon characters in it. He didn’t make you take it, but he offered it to you, just in case you’d want it. Those designs would take a lot less patience to finish, thus possibly avoiding a potential meltdown. Jake easily cleaned up the dish once you finished your food, bringing you some juice to drink, and making sure that you were always wrapped up in someone’s arms, and feeling safe. 

The rest of the night went arguably the best you could’ve asked for, neither of them blinking an eye at the babyish vocabulary, or the emotional state that you had sometimes. They both knew that when you were no longer in headspace, you would probably be anxious about what had happened, and they were fully prepared to reassure you and tell you that they loved caring for you.

~ taglist : @jake-and-johnnies-slut @gvf23 @elliem505 @ilydeaky @maryx2xx @oobleoob @aemrsy @blahbel668 @mystic-maniac @maddytheweird @707xn @jasperthefriendlyghostt @camille-1019

~ if you'd like to be added to my johnnie and jake taglist, click here!

~ my inbox is open, come chat!! <3

[sroloc--elbisivni]

i've been reminded of my old 'Transformers No War AU, Lord High Protector Megatron mentors punk bodyguard Hot Rod' AU that I don't think I'll get around to ever actually writing in fic form, so please enjoy this bullet point outline:

standard setup of a no-war prime and protector au. megop married and gross about it especially because megatron spends most of his time in space beating up quints doing the liberation thing.

well, not personally beating up quints, that's the problem, he has bodyguards now who won't let him do things like 'beat the shit out of a 50 foot alien monster'

because it would be a 'political crisis' or something if he died. whatever. cowards. faithless cowards, every one of them. as if he'd get killed.

but over time he has finally managed to shoo off, scare away, bribe with better positions, or otherwise resort to shameless matchmaking to get rid of most of them and now deadlock, his last remaining bodyguard, is married off and bothering his husband about personal safety instead of megatron

so he sets off thinking it's going to be a great trip except there's a teenager by his chair on the bridge. there's a teenager making fun of him. the teenager has flames painted on him and he's calling megatron an old man. wait what--

what do you mean you're the new bodyguard. what kind of a name for a bodyguard is hot rod

so of course megatron calls optimus to complain, immediately, to go 'i KNOW you're up to something, WHAT is this, why do I have a child, you CANNOT trick me into this I WILL not fall for it' and optimus just goes 'please i can't tell you why yet i just need you to trust me that he has to go with you'

megatron, because he is whipped, goes '....fine'

Mentoring, Reluctantly, Ensues. neither party is happy about this.

(megatron at one point calls up deadlock to complain and deadlock goes 'oh yeah hot rod i wrote him a recommendation letter for the job :D')

blah blah plot happens they bond eventually they are in a tight spot and hot rod sets himself on fire to get them out of it

it takes a lot out of him and he's woozy and giggly and megatron has to carry him back to the ship and he goes 'you're a terrible bodyguard. i bet you've never even killed anybody' hot rod, loopy: untrue! i killed zeta megatron: megatron: you fucking What.

turns out that back during the revolution, during one of those crazy months right after nyon got blown up (hot rod also killed all those people but he Doesn't want to think about that), when then-orion pax vanished for a while and came back with the matrix and was like 'yeah it's fine zeta's dead it's not important'. it was kind of important

sequence of events from op's perspective: when hot rod blew up nyon OP went 'oh my god you are a Youth' and took him under his wing to keep an eye on him and also to have someone else to do paperwork

op and hot rod both got kidnapped by zeta because it turns out that carrying the matrix means you can sense who else is a viable candidate for the matrix so zeta, now kind of insane, went off ranting about how orion was trying to build a dynasty to replace him and he and hot rod both went 'what the fuck are you talking about'

stuff happened. hot rod maybe burned him from alive to Very Dead and op retrieved the matrix and hot rod went 'i don't want anyone to know about this ever' and op went 'you know what that's fair you didn't sign up for this'

so OP has kept it on lockdown ever since and hot rod went off and joined the wreckers and jaunted around the galaxy for a bit and then wound up back on cybertron

and the priesthood took an interest in him. because there are Signs. and hot rod went from just a dude going to temple because he likes the music and has thoughts about theology and sometimes talks about it with OP to 'hm these sure are people in authority paying attention to me what a bad sign'

OP saw that hot rod needed to get off cybertron and decided to kill two birds with one stone

back on cybertron: priesthood: where is...the young bearer....(translation: can we talk to the kid instead of you, he seems impressionable and like less of an asshole) OP, an asshole : oh I sent him to go stay with the Lord Protector :) (translation: if you think you can get through megatron be my fucking guest)

megatron, after having dragged this story out of optimus over the long-distance call: i know you said no last time I suggested this, but I really think you should let me murder the priesthood optimus: megatron they do all of the IT work

this story has no real ending which is the main reason it probably won't exist, but it amuses me very much to subject these idiots to each other, and i hope it will amuse some of you.