#he absolutely needs a booster seat

[aceyanaheim]

Things that totally happened while Kakashi was in single digits ( which is his entire genin AND chunin exam Kishi wtf ) a non extensive list. With the help of the lovely @tora-the-cat

Most D-Rank missions are doing chores around the village. Do you understand how little muscle five year olds have? I dont care that they're a superhero ninja village five is five. Kakashi totally went too hard on some of the manual labor and just..couldnt keep going. Minato had to cover for him. ( Minato also had to convince him that no this didn't make him a bad shinobi because Kakashi tired and grumpy and five was totally trying not to cry when he woke up and the mission was done)

Kakashi lived alone for what the fuck reason kishi wh- after his dad died this tells me he basically learned climbing things like cupboards to get what he wanted and no he doesn't need help thank you.

After a while Minato got good at just extending his arms and catching Kakashi randomly because Kakashi's "if i cant reach climb it" attitude went with him on missions.

Minato fully expecting a genin age ten at the youngest finding someone Half that age and just getting every book on What Five Years Olds Are Like bc...he's never had to train one? He's never seen one on the field? Now he's on a team with one??? Hiruzen?? He's Five???

Kakashi at least once took out someone at the ankles just because thats the nearest thing he could reach.

He needed special weapons because he's tiny but Minato took to carrying then around because at least once Kakashi ran out of his took one of Minatos ( excuse him for being solution orientes) and Damm near sliced his hand open.

@tora-the-cat came up with this one but Kakashi took too many missions back to back without nap time and had a meltdown on a mission. At least the mission was successful.

Also that a jounin almost made Kakashi cry for getting hangry on a mission and Minato almost ate him. ( This was also @tora-the-cat )

Kakashi adamant that he needs to summon His Favorite niken for a mission and totally didnt pout when he couldnt ( he's Five)

Please imagine youre on a B Rank Mission. Please imagine youre fellow Chunnin is Six. Please imagine he kills with effiiciency and then pouts because he can't keep His dog as summoned on the way back and he hates the vegetables Sensei theyre gross.

Minatos a good soldier a good Shinobi he understands this is for the good of the village and anything for the good of the village is justified but he's still not ready for the emotions that slam into him the first time he has to carry this literal toddler after a mission ( maybe he got hurt maybe he fell asleep idk could be both)

Minato carrying special rations because like there are foods?? A Five year Olds body needs??? You can't just give him rations and pills

Minato had to trick Kakashi tho because He's A Shinobi He doesnt need vitamins ( yes. Yes he does)

Please imagine the surround sound HD "what the fuck" when this tiny ass six year old shows up for his Chunnin exam ( Minato Teaches him a bunch of jutsus every one chalks it up to Minato having a passing aquantance with limits. It is that but also he really needs the reasurance Kakashi won't die fighting a bunch of ninja who are twice His age at the youngest)

At least once Kakashi gets sick and actually acts his age. I need that

Listen I've said before but there should have been more focus on Kakashi being Five when his ninja career started like do You know how tiny Five is. He's Little. Picture it Minato goes to meet him and expects a ten year old only to feel a tug on his pants and there's this barely not a toddler standing at attention perfectly. He maybe reaches Minatos knees. Kakashi garrots someone and then asks Minato if he can please lift him up to wash his hands bc he can't reach the sink. Minato has to carry extra special Made weapons because should Kakashi find himself without his Minatos weapons would not in fact fit in his hands. He has to stand on tiptoes to give ninja reports. He's Five thats Tiny. Someone offered him the kids menu at Shinobi Food Place and Minato barely curved the killer intent by promising extra training. Kishimoto pick up the phone this could have been so much funnier and no less tragic.

[wondersinwaynemanor]

let's pretend that this is the right timeline because what if Dick becomes Batman at the same time when Wally becomes The Flash?

let's also say that this is just like the Justice League animated series wherein the League members don't know each member's identities (except of course Bruce, he knows everybody).

how funny would it be if Dick and Wally are together and the rest of the League are confused because all of a sudden Batman and Flash are close like super close? i mean they have witnessed how Flash gets intimidated by Batman. now, that's not the case anymore.

during a meeting:

Hal, leaning to John during a League meeting, whispers: I'm not losing my mind, right?

John, whispers back: I think I know what you mean.

Hal: Why is Flash making heart eyes to Bats????

John: I know??? Flash doesn't even look him in the eyes before.

Hal: That's so odd, dude.

Batman glances at the two Green Lanterns which makes them shut up.

meanwhile, across the table, Martian Manhunter has a light smile on his lips and Superman covers his laugh with a cough.

-

at the cafeteria:

Ollie: Hey, Dinah. Have you noticed something unusual between Batman and Flash lately?

Dinah: It is quite unusual, huh? I was talking to Hawkgirl the other day and she said she saw Flash bridal carry Bats.

Ollie: What the actual fu-

Flash, approaches the couple's table with a big bowl of nachos on his hand: Hey, guys! Mind if I sit with you?

Ollie and Dinah give a knowing look at each other. a conversation they definitely will finish later.

-

during in an another planet mission:

Batman, after announcing everyone's partners for the mission:... And lastly, I will pair up with Flash in today's mission.

Flash grins widely, that has Arthur thinking his cheeks might be hurting after that.

Arthur: Yeah, yeah. At this point, we already know, Bats!

the Green Lanterns, along with Captain Marvel and Booster Gold, snicker at his comment.

Batman ignores Arthur's comment and the rest of the members scatter to their assigned locations.

Victor, who was paired with Arthur: Was gonna give that comment too.

Arthur: It's like they are inseparable all of a sudden.

Victor, shakes his head: Well, I have seen weirder things.

-

in the meeting hall:

Wonder Woman, pulls Batman in the corner of the room: Okay, that's enough. You are truly ignoring me. What is going on with you lately?

Batman: Did the rest of the League put you up to this?

Wonder Woman, has her hands on her hips: They didn't need to. So, tell me. And don't you ever lie to me, I can see right through you, Batman.

Batman, sighs: It's hard for me to explain. I can't-I can't tell you right now.

Wonder Woman: Hera! Now, Bru-Batman.

before Batman responses, the door of the meeting hall opens and in comes Robin with his katana. the conversations between the League members come to a stop as they stare at the young hero.

Robin, glances at everyone, before approaching Flash: I need help with an important matter.

Flash, smiles and ruffles Robin's hair, as if that's second nature: Of course, little dude.

Hal, stands up from his seat: THAT'S IT! Can somebody tell me what the hell is going on????

Ollie, stands up with him: Are we in another dimension that I don't know about?????

Dinah pulls Ollie down by his arm to make him sit again.

the rest of the League members start to converse against each other.

Superman, floats a bit from his seat: Why don't we all settle down? There's nothing to be alarmed about.

Robin, shakes his head: Tt. Absolute fools.

by the time Bruce and Barry are back:

-

Bruce, pinches the bridge of his nose: Chum, you could at least be discreet with Wally.

Dick: It's not my fault, B! I swear I was going to explain to Aunt Diana then Dami entered the room.

Damian: Tt. Don't blame me, Grayson. Why don't you lecture West on how to be more responsible? He left me on read when I asked help for my Science project.

Dick, sighs: And what about Timmy? He could have helped.

Damian: I don't want anything to do with Drake.

Bruce massages his temples as he feels a headache coming up.

-

Barry: Wally!!!!

Wally, zooms right in front of Barry: I couldn't help it, okay?? Dick is just irresistible.

Iris giggles as she prepares the table for dinner.

Barry, sighs: That's alright. I'll talk to Bats on how we can explain it to the team.

Wally, grins and sits down by the table: It was hard not to laugh at them. They were so confused.

Barry, chuckles: I'm sure Hal's expression was the funniest.

Wally, laughs: You have no idea, Uncle Barry.

[beloveds-embrace]

As a short person (5 ft nothing) what would the 141 react to their partner needing to sit on a pillow to drive (so they can properly see the road.) Every time I need to do this my loved ones say I have a booster seat 💀

I’m the same height babes 💀 i relate to the shortness

But they absolutely do tease you for it. Johnny laughs loudly, and wheezing for breath the first time he sees you rush back into the house to grab the designated driving pillow/booster seat.

Kyle, bless his heart, tries not to laugh. You can see him close his eyes, taking some deep breaths, and his hand pressed against his mouth to hide his grin. He can’t hold it back when you grumble and fix the pillow’s position.

John and Ghost are far better at hiding their reactions. It probably has to do with the fact that you staring dead straight at them when you bring out the pillow and sit on it, daring them to so as much mention it- so they don’t. Even if you can see Simon’s balaclava twitch slightly and John closes his eyes.

“Any comments you wanna make?”

“…cute seat.”

[tvgals]

ok so boom, baseball player! ony and his actress! wife strikes again.

ony has been signed to the dodgers for five years now, and he doesn’t plan on retiring anytime soon. he’s been hitting absolute piss missiles for the past year and knows everyone in the league fears him as one of the most feral outfielders in the game.

ony has been on top of the world for years, the biggest headlines featuring his name and how you and him are the best couple to come out since kanye and kim, how the two of you are inseparable and can’t help but show the world, but when you two fight, it’s also obvious to the whole world. ony is a hothead, when the ump makes a terrible call, he’s the first to start throwing curse words and throw and hit shit around the dugout, and you hate it. you hate it because he’s giving himself a bad rap. sure, he could be the best fucking player in the world, but his shitty attitude could cost him a lot.

-

“baby. you know they always make shit worse on tv.” ony argues, leaning back in the drivers seat of his 2019 porsche 718 booster you were pissed. today, the dodgers played against the cincinnati reds, and ony struck out for the first time in a month off of a terrible call, a ball that was basically skimming the ground. he was furious, he stomped his way to the dugout and everyone knew to move out his way. ony flipped out, smashing his bat, throwing around the large gatorade containers, flinging helmets around, the whole thing. you were fuming in the stands, standing up and stomping away yourself. you couldn’t believe ony. you told him that you didn’t wanna see him act a fool in front of all these people again that he was making a bad reputation for himself everytime he acted out…but he never listened.

“you know that everytime you act an ass, it goes back to the dodgers and it makes everyone look bad. you need to calm down.” you reprimand him, scrolling on twitter to see everything people are saying about your husband. “why do you care so much?” he asks, rolling his deep brown eyes. in all honesty, ony couldn’t care less how people perceived him. he’ll forever be known as that dodgers player, that everyone will love him no matter how bad his attitude is. but for whatever reason, you can’t see that. you don’t understand why they put up with him…how you put up with him.

“take me home.” you grumble, firm and angry. ony huffs to himself, stepping on the gas. you watch out the window as you see the trees and mountains pass by as a blur, you felt your body be almost forcefully pushed into your seat, as if you couldn’t lean forward. “ony, slow down.” you warm him, digging your fingernails into the seat. “you wanna go home, right?” he asks, a small chuckle mixed in. your heart started to race and you feel like you can’t breathe. “onyankopon. i am not fucking kidding, slow the car down!” you yell, tears pricking at your eyes. “shutup. just shut up. all you do is preach at me and make me feel like a little kid all the time. i will crash this fucking car if you don’t shut up.” he yells back, stepping on the gas harder. in his haze of anger, he doesn’t notice the deer standing in the middle of the road, or the way you scream, or the way he doesn’t yank the wheel to move out of the way.

the deer hits the car with an insane force of power, taking the bumper off and cracking the windshield almost to oblivion. ony pulls over, the car creaking and shards of glass peppered around the inside of the car. you can’t hold it in anymore and you start sobbing, you can see the way the glass has scarred your skin, you can feel how bad your back hurts and how your eyes feel like they’re about to pop. “what the fuck is wrong with you?!” you scream, unbuckling your seatbelt and slapping ony across the face. he’s stuck in place, his hands grippping the steering wheel with extreme force. “are you fucking kidding me?! you almost killed us and now you wanna be quiet? get the fuck out of here.” you wail, flinging the car door open and steadily stepping out.

you walk away to god knows where, as long as it’s not with that fucking maniac.

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 16 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After the perfect day at the ballpark and a Phillies victory, the only thing you want is a sleepover with Bradley. But it's the care and attention he gives not only you, but also your son, that makes you want more and more with him.

Warnings: Smut, fluff and swearing

Length: 4000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

You were leaning across the seat, kissing Bradley's neck and whispering how much you had missed him while he drove. "The last week without you was unbearable, Coach."

"Kitten," he groaned as your hand cupped him through his jeans. "Baby, I'll never hurt you again. I'm so sorry."

You licked his jaw and whispered, "I know you won't. I believe you."

Bradley still felt like he was imagining this. He managed to get you and Everett back, but he would absolutely refuse to thank Jake for helping him. Hangman owed him that much. 

But Bradley would thank you. Over and over again.

"You can trust me, Kitten. I'm an idiot, sure, but I won't hurt you or Everett. You know I can't stand to see that kid cry."

You moaned softly next to his ear. "That makes you so sexy." As your fingers stroked along his inner thigh, he exited the highway and checked to make sure Everett was still sleeping in the rear view mirror. "Will you sleepover with me?"

He parked in your driveway behind your car and yanked you onto his lap. "I'll do whatever you want. Anything you want. I'll stay with you." You were yanking at his hair and rubbing yourself on him, and Bradley was trying his best to focus. He needed to get Everett inside and in bed before he could do anything else, and you didn't seem like you'd be able to make the best decisions on your own right now.

Bradley took your chin a little roughly in his hand. "Kitten, let me get Ev inside and tucked in bed first, yeah?"

You bit your lip and shivered in his arms, and he thought about just fucking you in the driveway. "Okay. Yeah. Let's take him inside."

Bradley lifted you out of the Bronco and set you down outside, and then he opened the back door and lifted Everett out of the booster seat. You ran ahead of him and unlocked the front door and turned on some lights. "Bedrooms are upstairs," you whispered as you kicked off your shoes, and Bradley followed you up the steps. 

Everett's bedroom was to the right, and when you flipped on the nightlight, Bradley saw that it was a hodgepodge of dinosaurs, baseball and trains. You pulled Everett's shoes off and set his home run baseball and Phillies cap on his dresser next to the baseball card binder. Bradley took his time, setting Everett gently down in his bed and smoothing the sheet and comforter over him. 

He stood there for a moment, and you slipped your hand in his but didn't pressure him to leave yet. Bradley loved being in your house and seeing Everett's room. He turned toward you and scooped you up, and you wrapped your legs around his waist. "Thanks for coming today," he whispered, carrying you back out into the hallway. "It would have killed me to have the third seat empty."

You pressed your lips to his as he found your room at the other end of the hallway, while your fingers tugged through his hair. The bedside lamp was on, and the room was glowing in the soft light. "I didn't want to have to tell you no."

He grinned against your lips. "I bet I can make you say yes a bunch of times."

You gasped against his lips, and he was about to set you down on your bed, when he paused. The stuffed Phanatic was propped up on your nightstand, and you were rubbing yourself against his abs again. He wanted you so badly in every way.

"Bradley," you whined, and he eased you gently down onto your back and kissed your lips and your chin and your neck. 

He nudged your legs further apart and whispered against your neck, "Kitten, is this a good time to ask you to officially be my girlfriend?" 

You grinned. "It's an excellent time."

"Mmm, good. Yeah." He kissed your lips hard, but you broke away, giggling underneath him. 

"Aren't you going to ask me?" You propped yourself up on your elbows and ran your feet up and down his thighs. 

"Oh, right. Kitten, will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes," you replied, unbuttoning his jersey and pushing it off his shoulders. You yanked his undershirt off and tossed it across the room, running your fingers through his sparse chest hair. Bradley awkwardly kicked his shoes off, sending one of them under your bed while you giggled again. But when he yanked your shirt up and pressed his lips to your belly button, you moaned. He kissed your soft skin while he unbuttoned and unzipped your jeans. 

"Mmm, I love you." When his tongue peeked out to taste you just above your pink lace underwear, you bucked up against him. "Relax, Kitten. I'll get my mouth on that pussy soon, baby."

"Bradley!" you groaned, bucking again before he hauled you to the middle of the bed so he had more room to work. 

"I'm right here," he replied softly, kissing your lips as he eased your shirt up. You arched your back so he could remove it, and he found a pink bra that matched your panties. "This is cute. I'm starting to think you wore this on purpose today."

You sighed as he stroked your tits through the fabric. "Nothing wrong with hoping," you told him as he yanked your jeans off. Bradley guided your legs up in the air and kissed the backs of your thighs, slowly easing your underwear along your legs and past your bent knees. He groaned as your pussy and your ass were on display for him, and he tossed your panties aside. 

"God damn, Kitten." He held your thighs with both hands and then spread your legs apart, sinking down until he was kissing your inner thighs and inhaling your perfect scent. "Fuck."

You reached down, tangled your fingers in his wavy hair, and guided his head until his mustache was brushing against your wet slit. "Taste me," you demanded breathlessly. "Now."

Bradley sucked on your slit, getting his face coated in your wetness as your fingers tightened in his hair. He dipped his tongue inside you without warning, and the sound you made had him grunting against you. He sucked and nibbled on you next to your opening and you were rubbing yourself up to meet his every move. 

"Bradley," you gasped, running your feet along his shoulders as he pressed his nose against your clit. When he dragged his lips up to suck on you there, you moaned a string of expletives in such a husky voice, his cock throbbed in his jeans. He sealed his lips around you and used his tongue, and a moment later you were practically screaming, still pulling his hair. 

"Kitten," he growled, looking up at you, back arched off the bed in pleasure. You were going to get loud, and while he couldn't fucking wait, he needed to close the door. He kissed you softly and licked you once before he released you and stood. 

"Where are you going?" you whined, propping yourself up on one hand with wide eyes and parted lips. You looked like a dream, pouting at him to come back to bed and bring you pleasure. Bradley unzipped his jeans, grunting as he freed his cock. He pulled his jeans off and stroked himself through his boxer shorts as you whimpered.

Then he softly closed your bedroom door and made his way back to the bed. "Just wanted to close the door so you can get louder." You eased yourself onto your back and watched him crawl across the bed toward you. He pushed you down into the plush bedding, letting his weight rest on top of you while he kissed your lips, and your tongue came out to taste yourself on him. You whimpered, and it was such a pretty sound. He pressed his mustache just below your ear and asked, "You want my mouth on your pussy again?"

"Please," you gasped, and Bradley watched your eyes flutter closed as he slipped one finger inside you.

"Been thinking about getting you wet since the pool party. Wanted to fuck you in the kitchen that day."

Your guttural groan as he added a second finger had you bucking against his hand. When you grabbed him by his hair again, he grinned at you. "Okay, Kitten," he mumbled and he eased himself down your body to wrap his lips around your clit again, making you get louder.

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

You were soaking wet. You'd never been this wet before. Bradley had his face buried in your pussy, and you were pretty sure he was enjoying himself too, especially whenever you guided him with your hands in his hair. But now that you were close, you wanted to feel his cock inside you. "I want you to fuck me," you whined, wondering if you'd even be able to sit up right now. You were pretty sure you left a wet spot on the bed, and Bradley was licking your mess from his lips as he took his boxers off. 

You reached for him with your legs spread wide, and when you wrapped your fingers around his velvety length, he moaned. "I just want to make this perfect pussy feel good," he growled as he knelt between your wet thighs. 

Your moan was loud as you sat up and scooted closer to him until his cock was rubbing against your pussy. "Oh god, you're making me crazy, Coach," you whined, wrapping your arms around his neck. He guided you back down, his tip pressing into your entrance as you keened for him. "Please!" You thrust your hips toward him fucking yourself around him as your head tipped back. 

"Kitten, baby, do you have condoms?" he asked, but you could feel him pushing himself deeper as he grunted. 

"I'm on the pill," you told him, and then he bottomed out inside you as you screeched. "Oh! God, Bradley! And I always made Frank use a condom."

He grabbed your hips and started thrusting. "Fucking hell, baby. You're so god damn tight," he gasped, moving inside you. "And you're gonna let me fuck you bare? I love you, Kitten. I do. This is too much. You feel so fucking good."

You knew you were getting loud, but you couldn't help it. He loved you. "Say it again," you demanded as his big hands wrapped around your back to unclasp your bra. He met your eyes as he tossed the pretty lace aside. 

"I love you." Then his lips were wrapped around your nipple as he fucked you hard, making your breasts bounce against his face. "How could I not? You're perfect."

You basked in the feel of him inside you and on top of you. His movements were so intentional, unlike anyone else. He was making you feel like everything you wanted and needed was important.

His jaw was clenched as he pressed his face against your neck and kept you so full of his big cock, you were already getting close. "I should have known," he growled. "Should have known you'd make all these noises like you did in the Bronco. Like you did over the phone when I was away. You like getting loud."

You were making a gasping sound as Bradley pressed his lips to yours, and you couldn't keep quiet. "Bradley!"

"Baby, you'll wake Ev," Bradley told you, and all the veins in his neck were straining as he pounded you into the bed before withdrawing. "Roll over."

You did as you were told, and it was maybe even better. Bradley fucked you face down into your pillow while he wrapped his right arm around your waist to rub your clit with your butt popped up in the air. He kept bottoming out and holding himself there, and each time it felt like another thread snapped until you were tumbling into your orgasm. 

"I love you, Kitten," he whispered next to your ear. "I love you."

You squeezed his cock, rocking your hips back into his as he filled you with his cum, his fingers finally slowing on your overstimulated clit. You lifted your head to look back at him over your shoulder, panting to catch your breath. 

"You're wild," Bradley said with a soft laugh, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. 

You didn't know you were wild. Frank was a dud in bed, and Danny only got you off occasionally, but it was never on purpose. Wild. Maybe you were only like this for Bradley. 

"I couldn't even get off with Frank unless I was thinking about you," you reminded Bradley and he kissed your shoulder blade. 

"Oh, I know. I love thinking about that," he said, his lips moving against your skin. "I love that I can make you wild." You settled your cheek against the pillow as Bradley kept himself buried inside you. He kissed along your shoulders and caressed your lower back and thighs with his hands as he eased you flat against the bed. 

His lips, hands and mustache were giving you goosebumps, and when he finally withdrew from you with a soft groan, you were in a blissful state of relaxation on your pillow. 

"Kitten, I need to go out to my car," Bradley murmured, climbing out of bed.

You sat up and watched him reach for his boxers and his undershirt. "I thought you were going to stay with me?" Now he was reaching under your bed in search of his shoes. 

"I am, baby," he promised as he stood, stroking your cheek and kissing your forehead. "I have something for you in my glove box. I'll be right back."

You snuggled under your blanket and listened to his feet on your stairs and the squeak of your front door. When you didn't hear his Bronco start up, but rather the sound of your front door again, you sighed in relief. He was staying. He was going to stay over.  

"This is for you," he announced softly as soon as he walked back into your room in just his underwear, shoes and a plain white tee. He was so handsome and looked so eager, you smiled and sat up. He was holding a golden chain with a little charm on it. "I didn't want to give it to you earlier and make it seem like I was just trying to get you to take me back. I bought it in Lemoore, and it's been in my car."

He sat down next to you as you grasped the little paw print charm and laughed. "Is this because you call me Kitten?"

He stroked your neck and kissed you so softly. "You're my Kitten," he whispered, and your nipples got hard for him as he clasped the necklace in place. 

Bradley gathered you onto his lap and ran his fingers along the chain. It was the only thing you were wearing, and you felt like it was a label. "Looks good," he told you, letting his fingers trail down between your breasts eliciting a whimper from you. Bradley groaned and let his fingers drift all the way down your belly until he was stroking your clit. 

To your surprise, you were ready for him again. You were still filled with his cum, but he didn't seem to mind as kissed your necklace and teased two fingers at your entrance. You rode his fingers as he moved at a leisurely pace, like it didn't matter how long it took, he was planning on getting you off at least one more time. 

"You have such a sweet pussy, Kitten. Are you wet because you want me or because you're filled up with my cum?"

You moaned at his words, head tipped back as you rubbed yourself against his undershirt. 

"I want to hear you say it," he growled, and you felt yourself clench softly around his fingers. 

"It's both," you whined, and he stroked your clit, your body responding like it was a reward. "I want you! And your cum is in my pussy!"

His lips settled unhurriedly on your neck, and he urged you to straddle him and grind yourself against his erection. He was hard, but he wasn't rushing you, so you got yourself good and worked up. Your voice was unsteady, and you felt yourself shaking as he pulled his boxers down below his balls, and you rode him right there on the edge of the bed. He was big and strong, and his feet were planted firmly on your floor. 

You bounced on him until you were gasping his name, head tipped back while he held you in place with both of his big hands on your hips. He was stroking your skin with his thumbs and praising you, and every time your clit met his pubic hair, you almost lost your mind. 

"I love feeling your body enjoying me," he whispered against your breasts. "So tight and warm."

You circled your hips a few times, and then you were making some seriously crazed noises as you came. Your movements became jerky, and then you went a little boneless as he held you tight. And when you felt more of cum dripping out of your pussy, you decided you wouldn't mind if Bradley kept you filled like this all the time. 

Exhausted, you draped your arms around his neck and let him hold you. He was telling you how good you were as you shivered at his touch. 

"You're staying, right?"

"I'm not leaving."

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

You were curled up in bed, wearing Bradley's undershirt with the front of his body pressed to your back. "What time do I need to leave in the morning, Kitten?"

Your contented sigh had his lips on your shoulder immediately. "Do you want to stay for breakfast before work?"

Now that you mentioned it as an option, it was literally the only thing Bradley wanted. "Is that okay? With Ev?"

"Mmm," you hummed. "If you're my boyfriend, then I think Everett can get used to you being around." Your voice was sleepy, but you had Bradley fully alert now. "Unless you need to leave early to get your uniform."

"I'll make pancakes," he promised as you dozed off. It took him awhile, but your even breathing finally lulled him to sleep as well, his big hand spread across your belly. 

When your alarm went off at six, you and Bradley both jolted awake. You scrambled away from him to grab your phone and turn it off, and then Bradley was pulling you into his arms again. He'd slept so soundly in your bed, and whether it was because he was finally no longer in turmoil or because you made him feel so good, he wasn't sure. But as you turned in his arms to face him, he thought maybe it was both. 

"Morning, Coach," you whispered with a smile as you kissed him softly. Your fingers were laced with his, and you were so close to him, he could touch any part of you he wanted. And so he did. 

He ran his hand up your back, enjoying the feel of your soft skin against his calloused palm. "I love you."

You smiled as your eyes drifted closed. "I love you, too. Yesterday was perfect."

"You're perfect," he replied instantly, and he meant it. "What time does Ev get up? I don't want to make him uncomfortable, so you can kick me out if you want."

You glared at him. "I thought you were making me pancakes?"

He laughed against your lips. "I can do that."

Bradley took a quick shower with you, and then he dressed in his jeans and undershirt while he watched you get dressed in one of your suits for work. You put on a little makeup and talked to him the whole time. It felt natural, like you and he did this on a regular basis. 

"It's Monday!" you said suddenly. "I'll get to see you at practice!" You were adjusting your new necklace, and Bradley couldn't take his eyes off you. 

"I've been thinking, I need to start practicing more with Everett, pitch to him for real. Because if he wants to graduate from tee ball to baseball next year, he's going to need some more of the basic skills. But we do have almost a year to get him there."

You turned to look at him fully, your lips parted, but you didn't say anything for a moment. "You're gonna stick around," you whispered, and he wasn't sure if it was a question or not. 

"Yeah, Kitten." He nodded without a doubt in his mind. 

Then he heard the toilet down the hallway flush, and when you opened your bedroom door with Bradley behind you, Everett was standing in the hallway outside his room. His eyes were wide. You went to him, wrapping him in a hug with your high heels in one hand. 

"Morning, Ev." You kissed the top of his head, but he was looking past you to Bradley. And suddenly Bradley was wishing he had left when your alarm went off, because the last thing he wanted to do was upset this kid. 

"Did you have a sleepover?" he asked, and Bradley nodded but let you do the talking. 

"Uh, yeah... and now Bradley offered to make us some pancakes before I take you to school."

Everett nodded and asked, "Next time you sleepover, can we make a pillow fort before bed?"

"Absolutely, kiddo," Bradley confirmed with a smile. "Should I try to make pancakes that look like baseballs and bats?"

"Yeah! That's a good idea! Especially since the Phillies won!" Everett cheered, and Bradley followed him down to the kitchen with you right behind him. He got everything ready for pancakes, and soon Everett was eating three baseballs and a weird looking bat while you packed three lunches. 

Bradley sat at the table and ate with Everett next him and you across from him, listening to Everett complain about his math homework. And he felt like he fit in here. He could make pancakes and pillow forts and have a packed lunch made for him. He could do math homework and make you scream all night. He could love this shit. 

"Math is important," he told Everett. "I use it all day at work. So does your mom. And if you want me to teach you how to keep baseball stats, you'll need to be proficient."

Everett's eyes went wide. "You'll teach me how to do baseball stats?"

"Of course, kiddo. I gotta go home and get my uniform before I'm late, but I can help you with math homework one day if you want. I'll see you at practice later." He patted Everett's shoulder and collected all the dirty dishes so you didn't have to, depositing them in the sink. Bradley picked up the paper bag that said Coach in your handwriting, and he smiled. And then he pulled you out of your seat and into his arms. 

"Have a good day. We'll see you at practice later," you whispered. And Bradley kissed your cheek. 

"I can't wait. I love you." And then he headed out to the Bronco with a bounce in his step.

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

You and Everett both looked at your front door as it clicked closed behind Bradley. When you turned to face your son, you were bracing yourself for the conversation you figured you might need to have if he seemed upset. But he looked absolutely elated, his expression rivaling the way he looked when the Phillies defeated the Padres last night. 

"Ev, do you want to talk about-"

"Mommy! Coach Bradley loves you!" Everett shouted, cutting you off. 

Your son was staring at you in wonder and you walked around the table to give him a hug. "Yeah."

"Do you love him, too?"

You kissed Everett's head and whispered, "Yeah. I do."

"This was the best weekend ever!"

You couldn't help but agree. 

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

Coach loves Kitten and Ev! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 17

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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[splishsplashyouropinionistrash]

ok guys so i started thinking about Andrew and everything he went through and now i can't stop

I work with kids, right? I spend pretty much every day taking care of seven year old babies. I think you can see where I'm going.

It's still just so absolutely heartbreaking that Andrew was being hurt and used at seven years old. I spend my days taking care of seven year old boys and they're just... they're so small? they aren't even really people yet, they're still practically toddlers. at seven, they still cry when their mothers drop them off at school and need help getting their jackets zipped. They can't reach things on the third shelf yet. they believe in santa and the tooth fairy and they trust everything adults say just because they're adults.

What I'm trying to say is: how could anyone try and hurt those kids? i genuinely can't comprehend how someone could look at those little babies and hurt them.

i feel like we all read that Andrew was seven when it started and... yeah, it horrified us, yeah it was so so young, but we didn't really get it. how could we? most of us aren't around kids very often. we hear "I was seven" and it's awful, it's sickening, but we don't really have any sort of point of reference for just how young that really is.

He couldn't tie his own shoes yet. He was still learning how to brush his teeth correctly. he had to sit in a booster seat. he probably hadn't even lost his first baby tooth yet.

Andrew was still just a baby. He was so, so young.

I don't know how to finish this post, honestly. I just finally started to understand how young seven years old is, and I wanted to give you all a reference point as well.

[its-time-to-write]

More Kent!reader and baby George?? Baby fever hittin hard rn🫠😮‍💨

I gotchu! This one has some backstory on the Kents. Or at least how I imagine it, anyway. I love that you all keep requesting more of this story, I think big brother Roy is the absolute sweetest🥺

this one is definitely more Roy-centric, that’s for sure! here’s a link to the other fics if you’re new here🤗

light in the hallway

Roy’s in the middle of yelling, “Isaac, pick up your fucking feet!” when his phone rings. 

He almost doesn’t register it, because the only numbers allowed through while he’s at training are Molly’s, yours, and Phoebe’s school. 

His first thought is that something’s happened to Phoebe, and he’s already calculating how fast he can get to her before he notices it’s your name on the screen. He frowns. You never call while he’s on the pitch, but maybe you need to talk to Jamie about something. 

“Your prick husband’s in the middle of training. Can it wait?” he says in lieu of greeting. 

“I don’t want Jamie, I want you,” comes your panicked voice. “George is sick and I don’t know what to do, he’s all feverish and he hasn’t thrown up or anything but I googled it and it says I don’t have to take him ‘round hospital, but I’m worried anyway because you can’t give a baby chicken noodle soup but his eyes are all glassy and he’s so fucking sweaty.”

Roy looks over to where Jamie’s drilling with Dani, kicking football after football into the net. He turns back around. “Right. I’ll be there in five fucking minutes. I love you.”

“Five minutes? You’re at least fifteen away, and-”

“I love you!” Roy says again, slightly louder before hanging up. 

He makes eye contact with Nate and motions to the car park. Nate nods and Roy leaves, satisfied that Nate didn’t ask where he was going. 

He makes it to your house in six minutes, but only because he got stuck behind an old car. You open the door before he has a chance to knock with an overly fussy George in your arms. 

“I’m an awful mum,” you say immediately. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Roy. I can’t make him feel better and I tried googling it but I don’t even know where to begin with that.”

Roy takes George, who seems to calm down a little. “Right, go run a bath for him. Make sure it’s lukewarm, we’re gonna try to get his fever down without fucking freezing the poor lad. You got acetaminophen?”

You nod. “In the medicine cabinet.”

“I’ll go cut some up for him. He can have a bit since he’s four months now. Same thing used to happen to Phoebe, you remember?”

You shake your head and Roy sighs. “Of course you fucking don’t, you’re too fucking worked up to think straight, aren’t you?”

“Should I have called Jamie?” you ask, eyes wide. 

Roy adjusts his hold on George as he shakes his head. This certainly isn’t the first time he’s seen you in a panic, but it might be the fucking saddest. 

“I didn’t want Jamie, I wanted you,” you explain, more to yourself than to Roy. “You always fucking know what to do and you make shit better.”

Roy’s not going to get choked up over that, there’s no point in crying over the fact that you both have shit parents and he and Molly basically raised you. So instead he gives you a gentle push in the direction of the bath and says,  “I’ll fucking call Tartt. Don’t you worry about it.”

You caress George’s little head before hurrying up the stairs. Roy sighs and goes to find the medicine. He checks the time. The team’s on lunch, so Jamie will have his phone. He finds the contact labeled “prick in-law,” and hits the call button. 

“You shit your pants, Coach?” is the first thing Jamie says when he picks up. 

“Fuck off,” Roy replies. “I’m at your house. George isn’t feeling well, so I’m helping your wife out.”

“Shit,” Jamie swears, and Roy can hear him clamoring out of his seat.

“You don’t fucking need to come home,” Roy says before Jamie can get any farther. “They’re both fine. Finish training for fuck’s sake, and stop by the store to get some fucking immunity boosters. Can’t have you fucking getting sick before the fucking match.”

“Right,” Jamie says finally. “Yeah, okay. Tell her I love her, yeah?”

“Sure,” Roy grits out, but if he’s being honest with himself he’s glad that Jamie’s first instinct was to rush home. It’s bad enough that he and Tartt are friends, much less in-laws. He’s glad Jamie makes you happy, at least. 

They hang up and on cue, George starts crying. 

“You’re alright, lad,” Roy murmurs, but he can already hear you thundering down the stairs. 

You come careening around the corner. “What’s wrong?” you ask anxiously, but Roy just hands you the bottle of acetaminophen. 

“He’s fucking fine. Just upset. Let’s go cool him down, alright kid?” Roy says. 

“Okay,” you say. “I’m really glad you’re here, Roy-o. I don’t think Jamie would’ve known what to do either.”

“Mhm,” Roy grunts. “He said to tell you he loves you. He’s picking up fucking immunity boosters for you, but there’s no fucking way you’ll get sick. Just a precaution.”

You stand on tiptoes to peck his cheek. “My god, how would Molly and I survive without you?” you ask fervently. Roy just grunts again and once again herds you toward the stairs. 

—

An hour later, you’re on the couch with George resting on your stomach. Roy brings you a cup of tea and sits down next to you. You settle closer to him, head on his shoulder as you breathe deep. It reminds you of the rare times he’d visit before Phoebe was born, and how you’d attach yourself to his side and beg him not to go back. There was a time when you were five that he almost caved, but he was twenty and at the beginning of the peak of his career, so he wrenched his hand from your tiny one and refused to look back.

Molly had called him a day later and told him that you wouldn’t stop crying. She was fourteen and already adjusted to the fact that she’d be raising her younger sister (you) on her own.

Roy had hated himself for that. Hated his parents for being shit, but mostly himself. He sent Molly as much money as he could, going around your parents until Molly was eighteen and they fucked off to god knows where, rarely to be heard from again.

So you’ll hold on to him as much as you can even though he’s not going anywhere, not since Molly rang him in a right state, pregnant by a shit husband.

“Roy,” you say softly as not to wake George, “d’you think I’m going to fuck him up?”

Roy asks, “What?” in the gentle tone he only uses with the people he loves.

“I’m worried that I’m going to fuck him up,” you say. “I know we’ve talked about it before but I just can’t shake the feeling that I’m going to do everything wrong. You and Molly… you always fucking know exactly what to do. I don’t. I got pregnant on accident with your arch-nemesis-turned-best-friend-” (“he’s not my best friend,” Roy mouths) “-and I’m worried that it’s all going to go to shit.”

Roy rests his cheek on top of your head. It’s strange. He knows you’re an adult but there’s always a part of him that sees you as that five year old who was crying because her parents were never around, and her brother was leaving her again.

“It’s not going to go to shit,” he whispers. “Molls knows everything because she’s a fucking know-it-all. I don’t know fucking shit, don’t know where you got that idea. You’re a fucking amazing mum. You’d fucking do anything for George, yeah? I’m always here for you and Jamie” (god, Roy can’t believe he’s about to defend fucking Tartt) “Jamie loves you, fucking annoying as it is, and he’s not going to fuck things either.”

You still look worried, but George chooses that moment to sigh and burrow into your chest.

Roy says, “See? He doesn’t think you’re shit,” and the furrows in your brow smooth a little bit.

The lock turns in the front door and Jamie comes in with a grocery bag.

“Kid’s asleep?” he whispers. You nod and he plops the bag on the ground, coming to sit on your other side.

Jamie kisses your temple and runs a hand over George’s back.

“Mental that he was in your stomach once, ain’t it?” he comments, and Roy snorts out a laugh.

“Mental,” you agree hooking one leg around Jamie’s.

Roy asks, “The fuck are you doing here, you’re supposed to be at training,” and Jamie doesn’t even bat an eye just returns, “Coach let us go early,” even though you know he’s lying by the way the corner of his mouth twitches.

Roy probably knows too, but only because he can smell a rat a mile away, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Jamie turns back to you. “Little lad’s doin’ alright, babe?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Roy says he’ll probably sleep for a while, and I thought we’d do takeaway for dinner.”

Jamie kisses you again and says, “You’re doing great, you know that?”

Tears begin to slide down your face and he looks to Roy in alarm. 

Roy just shakes his head. “She’s fine,” he says.

“I fucking love you,” you croak out, and Roy feels like an outsider, like he’s present for something he shouldn’t be. He moves to get up but your hand shoots out and grabs his wrist and all of the sudden he’s twenty again, watching you cry and beg him not to leave.

“Don’t go,” you plead, so he stays. He stays and has exactly one feeling about it, a feeling he would never vocalize, something about family and familiarity and maybe a little bit about coming home.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Seven Deadly Sins pop-up event.

"Are there discounts for multiple x-rays?"

Prompt: Wrath | Word Count: 1313 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Minor Injuries, Talk of Sex | POV: Eddie | Relationship(s): None | Tags: Corroded Coffin On the Road, Pussy Hound Gareth, Bar Fight

"There's a reason sex comes first in sex, drugs and rock & roll," Gareth says, standing at the sink, shaving.

Eddie rolls his eyes. Hard. This kid. He's gonna be the death of Eddie.

"Just wrap it up, Casanova. We definitely don't want little versions of you running around."

Gareth pulls a strip of condoms from his vest pocket, letting them swing before tossing them on the vanity, "Got it covered."

"Great. Now just remember to actually cover your dick, and you'll be good."

"A guy gets a little case of chlamydia one time, and you never let him live it down," Gareth whines, and Eddie laughs.

This is a ridiculous life they're leading. Nobody should be chasing after Gareth, with stars and lust in their eyes. It's absurd. This is a goofy kid that basically needed a booster seat to even play his drums when Eddie first met him.

Now, he's an adult. Still short though. And while they're not famous, they are on the road together. Eddie never imagined they'd even get this far.

"Just be careful. If you do anything to put this tour at risk, Goodie will kill you."

"He can try," Gareth says, and oh, he has, Eddie is well aware. He's had a front-row seat for years as those two have gone round and round since the day they met. 

Eddie meets Gareth's eyes in the mirror, "Be in the van in ten. Or you're gonna have to troll the motel bar."

Gareth bobbles his head, like he's heard him, and Eddie finishes getting dressed himself for a night off and out.

The bar they land at is smoky and dark, and Eddie settles into a booth next across from Jeff and Goodie as Gareth swaggers off. Eddie turns, stretching out, leaning against the wall, beer in hand. Gareth could just hang with them tonight, but it's like he's afraid all the pussy in the world will dry up if he stops chasing it for one evening.

And the next time Eddie sees Gareth, he's perched on a barstool, facing out towards the room, not the bar, legs spread wide. 

Eddie nods his head towards him, and Jeff and Goodie both look.

"Like that's gonna wor-" Goodie starts to say, but it's like he's fucking catnip, and there's already a girl leaning against the bar beside him, acting like she's not paying attention to Gareth, but definitely is. It's baffling. 

Eddie laughs.

"I hate him," Goodie says, as Gareth puts his hand on her waist as she talks to him, up close and personal.

There's a commotion across the bar, and Eddie scoots to the edge of the booth, leaning out to look.

Oh, hell no.

"Oh shit, it's Gareth," Eddie says, and he's moving, out and upwards from the slick vinyl, trying to get there before Gareth gets punched in the face for a second time.

Eddie slides in between what he assumes is a pissed off boyfriend and Gareth. He gets shoved around a little, and he plants his feet, but the guy is fucking huge. He pushes Eddie out of the way, knocking him clean off his feet, and this asshole is absolutely gonna cold cock Gareth again while he's distracted, trying to get his nose to stop bleeding.

Eddie pops back up, but Goodie has already stepped in between Gareth and the guy that's determined to knock Gareth's lights out. 

"I don't think so," Goodie says.

"He's a fucking dickhead," the guy snaps, grabbing at Goodie's shoulder, trying to push through him. It doesn't work.

"Agreed," Goodie says, "but he's my fucking dickhead. So back the fuck off, or I'll lay your ass out."

Eddie thinks that's a stretch. He's never even seen Goodie throw a punch.

But this is their chance to escape, and Eddie grabs Gareth by the arm, squeezing as he pulls him through the people that have gathered to watch the disturbance. 

And Eddie doesn't stop until they're out the front door, down the street, and then he's shoving Gareth in the back of the van.

Eddie reaches up and presses on the overhead dome light, and looks to see how bad it is. It's not great, and Eddie's sure it's broken. 

"It's broken, ain't it?" Gareth asks, his voice thick and weird, since he isn't breathing out of his nose.

"I'd say so," Eddie answers, "I think-"

And then the front doors are being yanked open, Jeff barreling into the driver's seat, demanding, "Keys!"

Eddie fishes them out of his pocket, and then they are peeling away from the curb, the van rattling and jerking as Jeff puts the pedal to the metal. 

"My fucking hand!" Goodie yells over the road noise, and Eddie looks up to see that he's holding it in his other hand. "I'm gonna kill you, Gare!"

"What'd I do?!" Gareth screams, like he's totally innocent, and Eddie pushes him back into the captain's chair. They aren't gonna start a fight with each other on top of it. "She approached me! I didn't know she had a big, dumb boyfriend!"

And unfortunately, Eddie thinks that's true. 

But Eddie still wedges himself between Gareth and the wrath of Goodie, and grabs both headrests, "Did you finally hit someone and I fucking missed it?!"

Jeff is cackling as he puts distance between them all and the bar where they are surely never welcome to return.

"Fuck yes, he did," Jeff answers, "wasn't pretty, but did the job pretty damn good!"

"I think I broke my hand," Goodie huffs, and Eddie reaches forward, making Goodie show him. Makes him flex, and watches as Goodie winces. If Goodie's complaining, it's bad. Fuck. Goodie'd rather die than go to the doctor.

Eddie doesn't know if it's broken or not, but if two of the four of them probably need x-rays, the night has not gone to plan.

Eddie whips around and looks at Gareth, "Can you maybe keep it in your pants for a while after this? Goddamn."

And Gareth makes a noise of disgust as he leans his head back, holding fast food napkins to his face. Eddie cups his cheek, and gently takes the napkins away. Even with the swelling that is starting to really ramp up, it's definitely crooked. 

"Are there discounts for multiple x-rays?" Eddie asks, and Jeff laughs. 

Gareth whines, and Eddie puts the napkins back under his nostrils.

"I'm looking for hospital signs," Jeff says, and Eddie puts his hand on Gareth's knee. They've had bar fights before, but never anything that ended up this way. Fucking hell. 

"I can't have a fucking broken hand, how am I gonna play?" Goodie snaps from the front seat, like that's gonna make his hand any less fucked up. 

Eddie doesn't know. They'll figure it out. They always do.

X-rays done, Eddie and Jeff regroup outside the automatic hospital doors. Passing a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, between them.

"Boxer's fracture. Three to six weeks," Jeff says, relaying the diagnosis from Goodie's imaging.

"Broken nose. Three to six weeks," Eddie echoes, and they both laugh. 

"Well, at least they're on the same page for once," Jeff says.

"What now?"

A broken nose they could play through, but a hand? Not likely. 

"You could play the bass," Jeff suggests, and yeah, Eddie could. 

"We'll get Goodie a tambourine," Eddie teases.

"No, a cow bell," Jeff counters.

And they both laugh. Yeah, that wouldn't go over well.

"Mama Jones is gonna shit when she gets Gareth's insurance statement," Eddie says.

"Gareth better call home," Jeff says.

"Or we could all just go home," Eddie suggests. Because he's not sure they have the money to stay on the road, unable to play at their full capacity, for weeks.

Jeff sighs, but says, "Yeah. Just a little break."

"In Goodie's hand," Eddie snarks, because honestly, what a fucking ridiculous night.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[pstelwitchcraft]

My personal takes for each of the Nevermore characters

Lenore Vandernacht

Gets bitches

Mad Dad Energy

So Gender she made you fluid

If adhd was a Poe themed lesbian

Would prob swindle people out of a LOT of money as a banker or smth with her charm alone

but her real vocation is as Annabel's trophy wife

Too much rizz for her own good

Number #1 the most loyal and protective ever, will murder and pillage and die for the ones she loves

Literally Died and still can't take a hint that her WIFE might like her back

Looks iron deficient, really isn't

Annabel Lee Whitlock

Actually has no idea wtf she's doing

Possessive Bitch to an extreme (would prob sow herself to the ends of Lenore's gay little victorian blazer if she could)

If anxiety/depression was a person AND a villain origin story

Untrustworthy but in a Sexy Way

Doesn't know how to Humanly Interact

Would make a BANGER of a politician or lawyer (still deciding if for good or evil 🤔)

Genuinely Absolutely needs professional help but fuck it we ball

Is taking this whole thing somehow more and less seriously than everybody else

Craves and Yearns and Aches to be cared for and loved but will admit it over her cold thrice-dead body

Doesn't look iron deficient, totally is

Duke

There's a 50/50 chance he's not actually French and just fucking with everybody

Can't grow a beard

The real reason he doesn't like Annabel is that he absolutely despises the British

Illusionist by trade, jackass by passion

Loves cheese to an ungodly degree

Ada

Worries everybody around her

Literally Died and still on her bullshit

Can't spot a red flag to save her life (ironic bc it's prob how she died)

Will Not Stop Talking

Pluto

Teddy Bear in spirit/cat in body/Tortoise at heart

Has either all the chill or never had a chill ever

Needs a booster seat to eat at restaurants

Hates dogs

Cannot survive without his friends

Really selective eater

Morella

Can be swiftly and effectively peer-pressured into anything

Got mad once. Still feels bad about it

Feels actual, physical pain at the idea of not being liked

Asks people if they have pets before asking for their name

Consumes a preposterous ammount of sugar

Eulalie

Will sage u if ur vibes aren't right

Got kicked out of a paranormal investigation team for asking the ghosts weird questions

Actually the only one who prob knows what's up

But has decided to just let it play out for funsies

Has correctly diagnosed everyone behind their backs

Berenice

#cuntsagainstthepatriarchy

Misses alcohol the most since her death

Will bite men for looking in her direction 😌

Always there to defend a fellow woman tho

Has the vibes of a pinball machine

Actually genuinely a caring and loving person

Prospero

Done with everybody's bullshit

Superiority complex to an EXTREME

His whole closet is organized by color, season and year of making

Just trying to get through one fucking book this whole time

Has incorrectly diagnosed everyone behind their backs

Held a puppy once. Didn't like it

[five-rivers]

The next part of my Kingdom of Fish pollfic! Continued from here.

.

It wasn't the practice he'd been intending, but… “I'm fluent in Elysian Greek.”  That was the dialect Pandora's people used.  

“Oh, thank goodness,” said the attendant, handing him a pair of scrolls.  “People have been requesting these, and of course we don't get many people who know those dialects out this way, so…”

“Right,” said Danny.  “Where should I…?”

“Oh, right here!  But… oh dear, I'll need to find a booster seat…”

“I don't need one,” said Danny, quickly.  “I can just hover.”

Danny needed one. 

(But unlike what the attendant said, he didn't look absolutely adorable in it, nor was he perfectly precious when pouting.  He wasn't pouting at all!)

He unrolled the original scroll, weighing it down with the scroll weights on the table, then did the same to the blank scroll he was copying onto.  

“Are arrangements like this common?” asked Mom.  

“What arrangements?” murmured Danny, keeping his voice down.  

“Arrangements between groups of ghosts.  Between your library and this one.”

“The library network is a bit unusual,” said Danny.  The scroll appeared to be a transcription of the life story of an Eleusinian farmer.  “The Library of Tongues gets relatively good deals, too, since most libraries need translators at least some of the time.  But there are other groups that do similar things.  Like, alliances and stuff between Realms.  I think the Goblin Market started off that way.  And there are the universities.  Schools.  Museums, too, but I don’t mess with them.”

“Why not?” asked Dad.  “I’d think that they’d work closely with translators.”

“Well, yeah, but museums aren’t always very good about asking.  And a lot of them get overly interested in things that are one of a kind.”  Like Danny himself.  He trimmed the quill pen provided to him and dipped it in the inkwell.  He started writing.  

“Oh, avoiding them is probably a good idea.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised, Mom,” said Danny.  “I have all sorts of good ideas.”  He wrote in relative silence for a while, pen scratching at the scroll.  

“What’s in that?” asked Dad.  

“The writing?  Record of someone’s life.  Not very long.”  He hummed and contemplated how to translate a complicated religious passage.  

“Where were they from?”

“And when?” added Mom.  

“Eleusis,” said Danny.  “And, hm, there’s not a date.  Usually stuff like this is pretty old, though.”

“Eleusis.  As in the Eleusinian Mysteries?”

“Yeah, I think so.  This doesn’t really say anything about them, but I’m sure there’s stuff in the library proper that does.  Why?”

Mom sighed.  “Sometimes, finding things in the Ghost Zone, it’s a bit like time travel without the time travel.  It’s a window into history.”

Danny frowned slightly.  It was history, and books were always a bit like that, but it wasn’t as if the person who the scroll was about was necessarily gone.  There was a very good chance that they still existed.  They had already been dead when they’d dictated this.  

Well, it didn’t matter, he supposed.  It was very unlikely that they’d ever meet the guy.  He wasn’t sure why it bothered him, anyway.  

He finished the scroll and rolled it up.  He looked up scanning the room for the attendant.  His eyes, however, caught on the large man with the bat ears and moth winds.  He looked like he was suffering, his skin soft and melty.  The thin man didn’t look like he was having a good time, either, fighting with his wings and an over-the-shoulder bag.  Oh, and there was something broken on that printing press that he could definitely fix.  And then, if he thought about it, this translation hadn’t taken him long at all.  He could certainly afford the time to do a few more.

… Danny realized, then, that in addition to not having much of a chance to travel and explore, lately, he hadn’t had much opportunity to indulge his primary Obsession beyond helping in the lab, and now that he wasn’t swamped in the haze of cabin fever, it was itching its way out of his skin.  

He was going to be horribly nosy about things.  He could just feel it.  All the practice in minding his own business he’d gotten in high school was years ago now. 

[differenteagletragedy]

Hi, would you be willing to do some headcanons about mc and Cliff? (platonic of course). I just love Cliff so much.

ME TOO! Here you go :)

-- When they move to town, Cove has never had a friend like you before, so Cliff is SO EXCITED to see how close you two become.

-- Pizza parties? Trips to the movies? Amusement parks? Cliff is thinking of everything a kid would ever want to do, making plans for it and asking your moms if you can come too.

-- If 8-year-old you needs a booster seat, he'll just get one and keep it in his car, ndb.

-- As time goes on, you become like another kid to Cliff, which means you are the second best kid in the universe.

-- Do you have a play at school, or a recital or a sports game? Even if Cove isn't involved, Cliff is there and cheering loud.

-- Is there some kind of "Bring Your Dad to School" event? Cliff is going to be there for Cove, and he would never put himself in that role for you without you bringing it up first, but if you want him to be there for you too then he will!

-- And then he'll cry.

-- Your moms put him on the list of people who can pick you up from school. Sometimes they get busy, and since Cliff owns his own shop his schedule can be a little more flexible. If you get sick and need to be picked up from school, he can come get you!

-- He's at work one day and the school calls, and he tells Mr. Suarez that he has to go get you, and a regular is in there like "I didn't know you had another kid!" And "No, I don't -- well, yeah, kind of." And then he'll cry.

-- Cliff cries so much I love him

-- If you're a girl, I think Cliff would be a protective girl dad. Like he's not trying to enforce any stereotypes, but he makes it clear that if you need any help with anything, if anybody bothers you then to come to him and he'll take care of it.

-- Like I just imagine in Step 3, you working at the tropical place with Cove and some people give you a hard time, like maybe another employee is being inappropriate or weird, and Cove mentions it in passing and Cliff is like "Oh really?" Then he goes to the restaurant later, finds whoever it was and gives them quite a talking to.

-- It's just that whatever you do, regardless of whether Cove is involved or not, Cliff is there for you in the same way a parent would be. College graduation, any sort of event, anything.

-- He has pictures of you in the family photo albums, both because you're always around and also because you're family.

-- Even if you end up with Baxter or Derek, if you have kids then Cliff is grandpa. He'll babysit and be involved.

-- What I'm trying to say is that Cliff is your dad, and it's not like a "oh, he's like my father" thing, no, he is your dad.

-- If you get married to Baxter or Derek and want him to walk you down the aisle, he absolutely would but be ready for the waterworks.

[ashlynlovestlou]

raising a baby with els

꩜ CW: father figure! ellie content , fem! reader

꩜ synopsis: just cute lil headcannons if you and ellie had a kid together

sfw!!

masterlist

☆—-------------------------------------------------------------—☆

• ellie, who keeps a bottle of baby lotion in every room of the house just in case the kid gets cranky and needs a little baby massage

• ellie, who is the one that gets up in the middle of the night to take care of the crying baby so you can sleep in

• ellie, who loves being the one to bathe the baby because she thinks it's the cutest thing in the world when he/she laughs from the bubbles

• ellie, who gets embarrassed when you catch her using her baby voice and she'll try to deny it by deepening her voice on purpose

• ellie, who always hums lullaby's and plays the guitar for the kid, and then coos them to sleep

• ellie, who loves to watch you breastfeed yalls kid (if you have it yourself), because she literally thinks it's the most beautiful thing in the world. she will just be watching you in awe with her mouth agape and everything and she'll call you beautiful even if your hair is messy.

• ellie, who will spoil that child like crazy. if amazon existed in the apocalypse, there would be a package on your front doorstep every single day and she LOVES it.

• ellie is full heartedly the one to teach the kid how to curse and will legitimately encourage it to happen. you'll be sitting there and you'll hear the baby babble a curse word, and you automatically know where he/she learned it from.

• will absolutely put the kid in obscure places, take a picture, and then send it to you if you weren't home. she'd put him/her in the drivers seat of her truck, in the kitchen sink, at the kitchen table without a booster seat, and basically anywhere she can just to get a chuckle out of it.

• as much as she loves watching the baby sleep, she loves playing with them even more, so when the baby gets drowsy she'll get all disappointed and butt hurt, but she'll let them sleep anyways because she's such a good dad :')

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

'Tis The Damn Season

Javy 'Coyote' Machado x Reader

Description: You've made your closest friends over the past decade as a Naval Aviator. That close friend group only expanded when your best friend fell in love when you were in flight school. Nat and Jake are cute together, you can't deny that. It helps that you get along well with Jake. Sadly, where Jake Seresin goes, so does Javy Machado. You can fly with the man, be the perfect wingman, but when both your feet are on the ground, you can't stand him. You're so sure the feeling is mutual. 48 hours in a car with him teaches you differently. Javy Machado is sweet and funny and you might just be falling in love with him. Or have you been in love with him all along?

Themes: Stuck in the snow, showers, shower-thoughts, hate-to-love, stranded in the snow,

Warnings: Female!Reader This fic is for adults age 18 and older, only! There are some fairly spicy thoughts in this part and 100% spicy happenings in the next part! Please do not read if sexual intimacy is disturbing to you!

Word Count: 3938

Author Note: This is part one of two of Gypsy and Javy's story and was written for @bellaireland1981's Winter RomCom Writing Challenge! I had an absolute blast writing this fic for Trope #17, Stuck Together/Snowed in/Stranded. I hope you all love reading this fic as much as I loved writing it! All my thanks go to @desert-fern who was instrumental as I bounced ideas back and forth for this fic, as well as for beta-reading it for me!

Cross Posted on AO3 Here!

My Masterlist

It was supposed to be the start of a fabulous holiday - supposed to be, being the key words. It’s rare, honestly nigh on impossible for you to end up having vacation leave lined up at the same time as your friends. You’re in the Navy, you’re a pilot; it kind of comes with the territory. But what is the likelihood you’d find yourself stuck in a car in the middle of a Colorado snowstorm with none other than Javy Machado? You’re unsure who you should blame because the universe clearly has it out for you.

Well, it's either the universe or Natasha Fucking Trace. Honestly, between mystic powers controlling everything that has been or will be and Nat, you’d pick her any day. A part of you has some sympathy for her. It can’t be easy dating a guy and knowing your best friend and his can’t stand each other. It’s the truth, too. You can’t remember why or when you started to get angry at the sight of his smiling face. Still, it was probably sometime between when he asked you if you needed a booster seat to see out of the cockpit and when he blitzed you on the first of the many flights you’ve taken with him. 

Why the fuck isn’t he going home to Louisiana? That’s what he usually does. God, if there’s anyone who’d know, it would be you. After all, you’ve been flying with Coyote Machado for the better part of the past decade. Every year, he’d cash in all his leave and fly home. Like clockwork, he’d return after the new year more infuriating than ever. But your knowledge of his behavior doesn’t explain why he’s in Colorado. You were both on an aircraft carrier in the Philippines, for fuck’s sake. There had to have been a transport to Louisiana via the East Coast. But against all odds, the two of you had been on the same transport and flight, hell, even the same bus to the terminal once you landed in Denver.

Now he’s staring at the same board you are, with flickering red signs as flight after flight gets marked as canceled. Including the one you were supposed to be on. It’s just your luck that Tash and Jake are reporting to Norfolk Naval Base right now. It’s just your luck that the only transport you’d been able to get on had landed in San Diego. And it’s just your luck that the cheapest flight you could get had been via Denver in the midst of what has to be the worst snowstorm the region has ever seen. Reception is spotty, but you huddle in a corner, praying to all the gods you don’t believe in that your call connects.

“Tash?” Her voice is grainy and barely audible, but god, if it doesn’t make you want to cry. “I’m in Denver, yeah. There’s a colossal snowstorm blowing in. My flight’s been canceled.”

“I don’t think I’m going to make it in time.”

“I know.”

“I know. I’ve missed you so much. But I don’t see a way for me to get out of here and get there in time?” 

“Yeah, Javy’s here.” You can’t control your eye roll as you say his name. “Yeah, I’ll give him the phone.”

“Yo, Machado. Tash wants to talk to you.” He takes the phone from you like he doesn’t want to touch you, which shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

It’s loud and crowded at the airport, so you can’t hear a word of what he says to Nat. There’s nothing else to do but stand at the window and watch the snow fall and fall and fall. There’s already close to a foot accumulated on the ground, and while you’d been wishing for the snow in the heat and humidity of the ship, you hate it now.

“Here, Gypsy.” You accept the device with a half-smile. “Tash had a pretty good idea, y’know?”

You can’t help raising your eyebrow. Javy swallows, more than a little discomfited at your gimlet gaze. “She suggested we rent a car and drive out to Norfolk together.”

Eighteen hundred miles, and he wants to spend all of that time and distance stuck in a car with you? You scoff, “You couldn’t pay me to do that, Machado.”

“Yeah, I know.” There’s something sad and haunted in his eyes. “I know. Believe me, I do. But this isn’t about you and me. This is about Jake and Nat. They want us there, celebrating Christmas with them. So don’t think about doing this with me. Think about how you’re doing this for them.”

Damn him. Damn him for being right. “How are we going to get a car in this?” People are yelling at the poor airline staff behind the counter, kids are screaming, and Christmas Carols are pouring out of the speakers. It’s chaos - loud, unmitigated chaos.

“You leave that to me. You have your bags?” Before you can think or even respond, he’s cutting a swathe through the crowd, and you’re left standing near two Navy standard-issue duffel bags and your one small rolling suitcase. It takes half an hour before he comes back. In that half an hour, you find you’re glad you’d opted for carry-on bags because the mob at the counter waiting to collect check-in bags descends into an outright fistfight.

Javy’s rumpled, his sweater mussed when he lopes back to you, thankfully with car keys in hand. “I got ’em. We have to head down to the main concourse.”

“Anything to get out of this shitshow.” He chuckles and grabs your bags and his own despite your protests.

The car is old but functioning. It’s tiny, though. It's so small that you’re not sure he’ll fit behind the wheel. It can’t be comfortable when he does end up in the car. It looks like his knees are pressed against his chest, even with the seat pushed back as far as it can go. You’re in the passenger seat because he refused to let you drive, and as expected, you’re surrounded by snow the minute the car leaves the parking garage. Visibility is shit, and it feels like the car is moving at a glacial pace. You’re surprised the roads are open at all, and to add insult to injury, you’re sitting in silence. The radio isn’t working, there is more snow - this time of the feedback variety, ironically - and the car is old, so there is no auxiliary cable or USB cable to connect your phone to. And, well, you’re not a fan of the man you’re stuck in the car with for the next 24 to 36 hours, so the less conversation you have, the better. It’s not even like you can read. You’ve only been on the road for an hour at most when the sun sets. But the roads are still open, and traffic is still moving.

As the minutes turn into an hour on the dark, snow-covered roads, you feel your exhaustion setting in. You’ve never slept well on planes - go figure that ninety percent of the time you’re in a cockpit, you’re flying - but flying commercial somehow makes it work. Strap yourself into a jump seat on a cargo plane, and you’re out like a light. Sleeping on a carrier with planes taking off round the clock and midshipmen screaming outside the door, you’re snoring like a baby. But flying economy? Forget about it. So, besides the few hours of fitful sleep you’d gotten on the cargo plane - because you can’t sleep where Javy Machado can make fun of you - you’ve been awake for nearly 48 hours. Your eyes feel itchy and hot, each blink torturous as you fight exhaustion. The car is so warm, and Javy's silent. Even he can't object if you rest your eyes a little, right?

You wake up to a roar of the word, ‘SHIT’, echoing through the car. You startle, and if you were a cat, you’d be stuck to the upper upholstery, fur ruffled and back arched. A coat covers your lap, the soft, rich wool imbued with spicy cologne. It has to be Javy's coat. When did that get there? The visibility out of the windshield is even worse, if possible, and Coyote’s arms are corded as they clutch the wheel in an iron grip.

“Hey, how long was I out?” He doesn’t even look at you when usually he’d be more than ready to tease you on how you probably have drool on your face.

“Coyote? ‘Yote? Hey?!”

“Javy? What’s going on?” You place your hand on his arm, pretending not to notice how firm and warm it is under the bunched-up sleeves of the soft sweater he’s wearing. “Javy, you’re scaring me. C’mon. Tell me what’s happening. What’s a wingwoman for if she can’t help?”

“We’re somewhere in Kansas, and the snow makes this really hard.” There’s something unreadable in the expression on his face as he snarls at the other, far slower drivers on the road in front of you.

“We should stop for the night then.” 

“No.” He snarls the words at you, and that’s when you know something is wrong. “No, I can keep going.”

“Javy, maybe you can, but I can’t. I need to take a break, hit the head, and stretch my legs.” 

He doesn’t respond, content to make you worry the longer the silence spirals between you like an oppressive living thing. He pulls off the highway when the next exit presents itself. The motel he pulls up to on the side of the road is rough-looking. It’s small and old, but at least it smells clean, or well, at least clean-ish. As luck would have it - because your luck couldn't be any shittier - there’s only one room left for the night. You slap your credit card down on the counter before he can object. He’s Javy Machado. You know what he’s like better than almost anyone else. You may not like him very much, but you can read all of the signs. He’s not the type to let a woman pay for anything, not when he can pay for her. He can take it up with you when he’s not acting weird.

You push him into the shower once you’re in the room, content to just sprawl out on the bed until he’s done. Really, all you're hoping is that the hot water is enough to snap him out of this eerily quiet, angry mood and back to the pain in your ass you're used to. When he steps out, it’s wrapped in one of the motel’s paper-thin towels, and you have to avert your eyes. There’s just a shadow of a smirk on his face as you pass under his arm with all of your clothes bundled up against your chest, trying and failing to avoid making eye contact with all of his wet, glistening muscles. It takes you far too long for your brain to reboot after that sight, and mortification and anger are your companions as you hurriedly strip off your snow-laden clothes.

You’re grumbling the entire time it takes the shower to heat up because it is not fair that Javy Machado looks like that under his uniform. No wonder every girl within a ten-mile radius of base wants to get into his pants. You step into the shower nearly too early, stifling squeals as the too-cold water splatters across your skin. After a few minutes of determined shivering, you finally step under the warming water, coming out in a steady, roaring stream. At least it’s getting hot now, though it’s not as hot as you’d like. You let the spray beat your muscles into submission, relishing the first moment you’ve had by yourself since you left the carrier fleet hours ago. But you’re left in peace only for a few moments. Unbidden, your one-track mind finds its thoughts consumed by Javy Machado again. It starts off with an innocuous thought, “How did a man that large fit into this tiny shower? He could probably see over the curtain rod!” Then you’re wondering if he’s alright. But as your soapy hands trace over your skin, you start to imagine other things. 

You start to imagine water droplets sliding over the ridges of his muscles, skating over defined abs, and collecting in the dip of his collar bones. His hands are big and calloused as they lather soap across his skin and then over yours. Shit! When did you start dreaming of yourself in the shower with Javy Machado? There’s an ache in your pelvis as you clench your thighs together as you dream of how those calloused fingers feel on your skin. You get yanked violently out of the vision when the water goes cold on you. It feels like you’ve been immersed in one of the snowbanks outside. You almost fall as you step out of the shower, but it’s silent. Your face is flushed in the fogged-up mirror, your eyes fever bright as your blood pulses in your veins in the same rhythm as your aching cunt. You inhale and exhale raggedly, trying to get your libido under control. Please let there be a bar near Nat and Jake’s place - please - you need to get fucked so bad that you’re fantasizing about your wingman, of all people, now. 

It’s getting cold in the bathroom as the steam dissipates when you finally pull yourself together and get dressed fast in a bid to escape the cold. But it is still silent outside the bathroom - almost too silent. You expect laughter at the very least when you open the door because your warmest pajamas are covered in dancing penguins. Instead, Javy’s sitting on the bed, staring out the open window at the milling snow, looking for all the world like he’s lost something he’s just found.

It’s cold in the room, the motel’s shitty heating is barely able to combat the frigid snow outside, and he’s not wearing a shirt. But he doesn’t even notice the gooseflesh on the smooth, broad expanse of his back and chest. The cold blue light reflecting off of the snow piling up outside makes the room even colder, casting deep purplish shadows over his face and making the room eerie. You check that the door is latched and bolted before walking back towards Javy. He doesn’t move a muscle when you take his hands in your own. They’re like ice. He doesn’t even seem to care when you put the pillows down and fish one of your warm fleece blankets out of your bag. Bless Nat and Jake for not having a fully set up guest room yet because there’s no way you’re sleeping in this bed using sheets you’re not sure are clean. The blankets you brought are going to be perfect for the night. He doesn’t move or do anything until you intertwine your fingers with his own and tug on his arm's broad, burly expanse. He lists to the side without protest, and now you know something is wrong. Javy's not the type to do anything quietly. He's the type to shit-talk all the way while flirting endlessly. He turns towards you as you tuck the blanket around his big form, and when you move to pull another blanket out, his hand tugs you in until you’re in his arms.

The pinched furrow creasing his brow finally dissipates slightly. Something’s wrong, and you’re not sure what it is. If this helps, you’ll stay where you are. After all, you’ve slept in far more uncomfortable beds with much worse companions. Javy smells incredible, like soap, cologne, and something you can't place. You curl in closer despite yourself, letting him drag the blanket even further up around your shoulders. Everything is muffled around you. All you can hear is your breath and the soothing thud of his heart. It would be easy to curl in and fall asleep, but you can’t until you know your wingman is alright. But he seems content to lie there, brown eyes glittering with emotions you couldn’t read even if you tried. There’s barely any space between the two of you. Every breath you take has your chest brushing against his.

With the howling wind and the tink of snow against the window, you feel like you’re in a dream. Finally, Javy’s eyes close, even if he is still indescribably tense. You can feel it in the arms wrapped around you and in the muscles jumping in his jaw. His eyes fly open when your fingers trace the stressed tendons lightly.

“What’re you doing, Gypsy?” You’re unsure how to respond; instead, you trace your fingers over the furrow in his brow. Maybe your touch will wipe the stress frown away from his usually jovial face?

“You’re being awfully sweet, Gyppie.” You snort at the diminutive form of your already short callsign. “And here, I thought you hated me.”

Your gasp is barely audible, but you’re sure he can hear it anyway. “You never let it affect things between us when we fly, but I know you can’t stand me.”

“I’ve spent over a decade wondering why.” His next exhale is a harsh whoosh of breath. “But you’ve never told me, and right now, I think I know exactly why. It’s just me, isn’t it, Gyp? Just me and everything that I am.”

Your voice feels stuck. Trapped, lost, chained up behind a decade of hatred, hatred which wavers like it’s standing on a stool that may just have had all of its legs cut out from under it. You curl into Javy’s embrace, wrapping your arms around his waist like it’ll show him you feel differently. Because you do. At first, you had hated Javy Machado. You hated his effortless grace, charm, and ability to pick up concepts you’d had to work to understand yourself. But then he’d been persistent, and you’d been thrust into his company by the presence of Nat and Jake. 

That’s when you’d been able to see past the bravado, the mask he put on every day. That’s when you’d fallen headlong into a more profound and long-lasting crush than any relationship you’d found yourself in. But by the time you realized your feelings, he’d picked up on your stand-offish behavior and realized he couldn’t befriend you. Your crush never faded, but it’s evident that Javy had noticed your initial feelings and acted accordingly. But why would he blame everything that happened on himself?

“I know you’re probably wondering why I’m not home for the holidays right now.” What does that have to do with what he was just talking about? “Just chalk it up to another textbook case of me being myself.”

“I can't say I didn't wonder. But it's not my place to poke and pry. Why you're not heading home to Mama Machado is your business.”

“But you can't deny that you're curious, can you?” You shrug as much as you can with your arms wrapped around him.

“Of course you're curious. But how could I have gone home, Gyppie? How?” There's so much pain in his voice as he growls the words out.

He goes silent then, a frown creasing his face as his jaw moves under your fingertips. Your gentle touch doesn’t seem to bother him, just like the prickle of his stubble doesn’t bother you. In another world, in another life, could you have been sleeping every night in his arms like this? You’re not sure you deserve it. Javy was right earlier. You’ve been rude ever since the day you met him. Would anything have changed if you’d acted differently? If you’d been shy and withdrawn instead of angry and argumentative? That water’s long since flowed under the bridge. Too much time, too much history, too much animosity. All you can hope to do is listen. For your wingman, that’s the least you can do.

But your little nap in the car hadn’t been of much use. The longer you spend pressed against the human equivalent of a space heater, the sleepier you feel. You have to stay awake. This could be your one chance to go from rivals or enemies or colleagues to friends. Maybe you could even casually ask Javy to grab a beer after the holidays? But the first step to all of that is to stay awake.

His hands slide up until they're cradling the back of your head, pulling your face level to his own.

“You're not falling asleep on me, are you, Gyppie?” You shake your head wordlessly, captivated by how you can feel his breath against your lips, practically taste the mint from his toothpaste, and how you could kiss him if you leaned in just a bit further.

“It's okay if you do. You barely slept on the plane. My problems don't mean a thing in the face of your exhaustion.” Once again, you're speechless. How is he so selfless? How did you not notice before this very moment?

“I'm okay, Javy. Tell me one thing that's bothering you, the most important thing.” Your voice is the barest whisper, a sigh as he maneuvers you closer and traps your feet between his calves.

“Well, your feet are like itty-bitty ice cubes, Gyppie. The fuck did you do? Stick ‘em in a snowbank before you get into bed?” You gasp and growl playfully at him, pushing at his chest until he pulls you in even closer.

“But in all seriousness, you've been wondering why I didn't go home.” His words are expelled on exhales of breath, just as quiet as yours were earlier, spilling out in stops and starts. “I can't go home, Gyppie. My brother's wedding is on Christmas Day. But it's not that I'm against my brother's marriage. It's more like his fiancée is against having me there.”

You can’t believe anyone would go so far as to ban Javy from his brother's wedding just because she didn't want him there. You cup his jaw gently, letting your hand curl around to cradle the back of his in a position mirroring how he's still holding you.

“You want to know the kicker, Gyppie? She was my fiancée first. She dumped me because she couldn't stand the deployments and fell into bed with my brother days after.” 

“What a stupid thing to do.” You're no longer looking into his eyes, focused on his collarbones. “That was a dumb move, and you know it, Machado. She just alienated herself from most of your family. Your Mama first and foremost.”

His laughter has you giggling, too. When your laughter and his finally taper off, you're left to marvel at how much things have changed.

“You want to know the best part?” You hum in response. “The reason why we broke up was because I was already in love with someone else.”

He doesn’t wait for you to ask or even allow you a chance to get past your shock. His hands tip your head up again until you're face to face, and he kisses you, slow and sweet. Your moan takes you by surprise as you try to pull him even closer, letting him imprison you in his embrace.

“Fuck, this Christmas would've been so different if I'd just told you how much I loved you before we left flight school, Gyppie.” 

This time, you tug him in, kissing him slow and sweet until there's molten lava in your veins and there's snow in your mind. It's beginning to feel like a holly jolly Christmas indeed.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @footprintsinthesxnd @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @mak-32 @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

[harry-styles-obsessed]

Daddy’s girl

Request: hi! I was wondering whether you could do something with Harry as a dad? Something just really cute? Thank you!

Dad!harry x fem!reader

Trigger warnings: none

“Evelyn baby!” Your voice rang out as you crouched down to welcome your daughter into your arms, you had the duty of picking Evelyn up because Harry had to do a photoshoot but you didn’t mind at all. Harry was your husband of four years and you absolutely adored him. You loved him because he was himself, not just for his looks… for his personality, his kindness, his love, his vulnerability but especially for the love he had for your daughter. The moment she was born they were attached at the hip practically, he was always holding her, most of the time after you had gotten out of the hospital he held Evelyn in his arms saying his only priority was for you to get rest and that he would look after her and he did. Harry was very big on “skin to skin” contact and so often when Evelyn was a newborn held the small girl on his bare chest just so she could feel safe and at home with him. His interactions with her were simply the biggest reason why you absolutely adored him. “Mama!” Her small voice said excitedly as she wrapped her arms around you gripping onto you tightly, she was 5 years old and had finally settled in to her pre-school that she struggled in because she was shy and struggled with making friends but soon realised her peers there simply wanted to be her friend.

“Did you have a good day?” You asked smiling down at her, her head nodding furiously “Uhuh! We made Easter hats!” She exclaimed excitedly with a grin and you smiled pressing a kiss to her forehead “that’s great sweetheart,” you said happily before lifting her up into your arms carrying her back to your car “daddy?” She soon asked and you smiled “daddy’s having a photoshoot. But we’re gonna go see him okay?” You said smiling at her her smile growing at your words “cheese! Daddy’s saying cheese?” She asked and you chuckled gently, you and Harry had taught her that when you got your pictures taken you had to say cheese and it simply stuck with Evelyn and she couldn’t quite pronounce photo or photoshoot so whenever she wanted a picture taken of her or if she wanted to take a picture of you and Harry she often just yelled ‘cheese’ even in the most strangest of places which got a lot of strange stares but in reality it was just adorable.

You put Evelyn in her booster seat as you made sure she was strapped in before you strapped the seatbelt around her, kissing her cheek “wanna see daddy!” She shouted and you gently shushed her “inside voice please honey, we’re going to see him now.” You assured before closing the door quietly, the toddler starting to play with her sensory toys which often helped to keep her quiet and distract her on long car journeys but she sometimes also played with them when bored or nervous. You got into the car as you immediately began driving to the studio where Harry was having his photoshoot. He not only needed some new album covers but he also had other things coming up too so wanted some good photos to use, plus his Instagram profile picture was looking a tad bit boring and he wanted to brighten it up more.

Soon enough you arrived at the studio and you quickly got Evelyn out of the car as you slowly made your way into the studio, you heard Harry’s voice instantly and so did Evelyn a soft squeal leaving her lips as she kicked her legs slightly to be put down “okay careful baby” you said before setting her down onto the floor as you followed after her. Harry’s outfit was beautiful, he literally looked like a god. Jesus Christ were you obsessed with how he looked. He looked so pretty. As his eyes landed on you he smiled at you Evelyn’s screams of excitement being heard as Harry smirked softly “oh I wonder who that is… can anyone else hear that?” He asked the photographer continuing to take pictures of him as he had asked prior to you arriving, he wanted the camera to picture him as himself. “Daddy! Daddy!” Evelyn shouted excitedly her small hands gripping at his jeans lightly tugging at the material and he looked down, gasping as if he hadn’t seen her “oh my goodness… is this my princess? Princess Evelyn!” He lifted her up into his arms her giggles getting louder as she smiled at him her small hand resting on his cheek and in that moment you couldn’t help yourself as you took a quick picture of the two, your heart instantly melting “I missed you dada” she said her hand remaining on Harry’s cheek and he smiled pressing a kiss to her forehead “i missed you too honey…” he held her close before turning himself and her towards the camera “say cheese baby” he said and so she did, “cheeseeee!” She exclaimed the flash from the camera lighting both Harry and Evelyn’s eyes up and you watched the interaction your heart continuing to melt as you beamed happily. You then looked down to your phone as you immediately put a picture of the two up on your Instagram, both Harry and your daughter were your biggest inspiration and most important thing in your life so your Instagram was full of pictures of them, you had grown quite the following too but that didn’t matter to you. All that mattered to you was Harry and Evelyn.

Evelyn soon began running around the studio, being chased by Harry as you watched a soft smile on your lips and once Harry had made a full circle round he appeared beside you again his arms wrapping around your waist “mm.. hello.” He spoke pressing a kiss to your cheek and you smiled running your fingers through his hair gently “hi… I think she missed you more than I did.” You teased and he glared at you playfully “I’m kidding.. I missed you tons.” You said holding onto him tightly, Evelyn constantly tapping Harry’s leg but he didn’t mind his attention soon turning to her “yes miss Evelyn?” He asked and that set the girl off in fits of giggles “chase me daddy!” She giggled out again and Harry glanced at you begging you to help and you laughed out “guess this’ll help me get my stamina back before tour” he chuckled out before chasing Evelyn around, purposely going slowly so she could win her squeals being music to both your and Harry’s ears. You knew Evelyn would miss Harry when he went away on tour and so that’s why you and him were trying to figure out a plan to be able to bring Evelyn along on tour with him, maybe you too.

“Mama!” The small child exclaimed “save me!!” She yelled and you laughed out as she hid behind your legs “I’ve got you… but who knows… maybe I’m on daddy’s side!” You yelled dramatically, the room being chaotic but fun as you lifted her up into your arms spinning her around as she screamed out happily before you held her back to your chest Harry slowly walking towards her like a predator awaiting to pounce on its prey and you laughed out as she kicked her legs “daddy no!!” She yelled but before she could do anything he had began to tickle her relentlessly, before lifting her T-shirt up as he began blowing raspberries into her tummy purposely making a farting noise as she squealed, laughing louder, Harry soon stopping just so he could wrap his arms around you gripping onto you tightly as Evelyn wrapped her arms around his neck, being smushed in between the two of you as Harry looked into your eyes lovingly “love you both so so much… my two favourite girls in the whole entire world. My loves.” He said softly before pressing a kiss to your forehead and a kiss to Evelyn’s forehead his words nothing but the truth as he smiled, a photo being taken of the three of you cuddled together and Harry used that specific photo of him and his girls together as his new Instagram photo. The world knew him and his Instagram… but he wanted the world to know that his world was his two girls… y/n and Evelyn.

[comfort-person]

Daddy’s girl

Request: hi! I was wondering whether you could do something with Harry as a dad? Something just really cute? Thank you!

Dad!harry x fem!reader

Trigger warnings: none

“Evelyn baby!” Your voice rang out as you crouched down to welcome your daughter into your arms, you had the duty of picking Evelyn up because Harry had to do a photoshoot but you didn’t mind at all. Harry was your husband of four years and you absolutely adored him. You loved him because he was himself, not just for his looks… for his personality, his kindness, his love, his vulnerability but especially for the love he had for your daughter. The moment she was born they were attached at the hip practically, he was always holding her, most of the time after you had gotten out of the hospital he held Evelyn in his arms saying his only priority was for you to get rest and that he would look after her and he did. Harry was very big on “skin to skin” contact and so often when Evelyn was a newborn held the small girl on his bare chest just so she could feel safe and at home with him. His interactions with her were simply the biggest reason why you absolutely adored him. “Mama!” Her small voice said excitedly as she wrapped her arms around you gripping onto you tightly, she was 5 years old and had finally settled in to her pre-school that she struggled in because she was shy and struggled with making friends but soon realised her peers there simply wanted to be her friend.

“Did you have a good day?” You asked smiling down at her, her head nodding furiously “Uhuh! We made Easter hats!” She exclaimed excitedly with a grin and you smiled pressing a kiss to her forehead “that’s great sweetheart,” you said happily before lifting her up into your arms carrying her back to your car “daddy?” She soon asked and you smiled “daddy’s having a photoshoot. But we’re gonna go see him okay?” You said smiling at her her smile growing at your words “cheese! Daddy’s saying cheese?” She asked and you chuckled gently, you and Harry had taught her that when you got your pictures taken you had to say cheese and it simply stuck with Evelyn and she couldn’t quite pronounce photo or photoshoot so whenever she wanted a picture taken of her or if she wanted to take a picture of you and Harry she often just yelled ‘cheese’ even in the most strangest of places which got a lot of strange stares but in reality it was just adorable.

You put Evelyn in her booster seat as you made sure she was strapped in before you strapped the seatbelt around her, kissing her cheek “wanna see daddy!” She shouted and you gently shushed her “inside voice please honey, we’re going to see him now.” You assured before closing the door quietly, the toddler starting to play with her sensory toys which often helped to keep her quiet and distract her on long car journeys but she sometimes also played with them when bored or nervous. You got into the car as you immediately began driving to the studio where Harry was having his photoshoot. He not only needed some new album covers but he also had other things coming up too so wanted some good photos to use, plus his Instagram profile picture was looking a tad bit boring and he wanted to brighten it up more.

Soon enough you arrived at the studio and you quickly got Evelyn out of the car as you slowly made your way into the studio, you heard Harry’s voice instantly and so did Evelyn a soft squeal leaving her lips as she kicked her legs slightly to be put down “okay careful baby” you said before setting her down onto the floor as you followed after her. Harry’s outfit was beautiful, he literally looked like a god. Jesus Christ were you obsessed with how he looked. He looked so pretty. As his eyes landed on you he smiled at you Evelyn’s screams of excitement being heard as Harry smirked softly “oh I wonder who that is… can anyone else hear that?” He asked the photographer continuing to take pictures of him as he had asked prior to you arriving, he wanted the camera to picture him as himself. “Daddy! Daddy!” Evelyn shouted excitedly her small hands gripping at his jeans lightly tugging at the material and he looked down, gasping as if he hadn’t seen her “oh my goodness… is this my princess? Princess Evelyn!” He lifted her up into his arms her giggles getting louder as she smiled at him her small hand resting on his cheek and in that moment you couldn’t help yourself as you took a quick picture of the two, your heart instantly melting “I missed you dada” she said her hand remaining on Harry’s cheek and he smiled pressing a kiss to her forehead “i missed you too honey…” he held her close before turning himself and her towards the camera “say cheese baby” he said and so she did, “cheeseeee!” She exclaimed the flash from the camera lighting both Harry and Evelyn’s eyes up and you watched the interaction your heart continuing to melt as you beamed happily. You then looked down to your phone as you immediately put a picture of the two up on your Instagram, both Harry and your daughter were your biggest inspiration and most important thing in your life so your Instagram was full of pictures of them, you had grown quite the following too but that didn’t matter to you. All that mattered to you was Harry and Evelyn.

Evelyn soon began running around the studio, being chased by Harry as you watched a soft smile on your lips and once Harry had made a full circle round he appeared beside you again his arms wrapping around your waist “mm.. hello.” He spoke pressing a kiss to your cheek and you smiled running your fingers through his hair gently “hi… I think she missed you more than I did.” You teased and he glared at you playfully “I’m kidding.. I missed you tons.” You said holding onto him tightly, Evelyn constantly tapping Harry’s leg but he didn’t mind his attention soon turning to her “yes miss Evelyn?” He asked and that set the girl off in fits of giggles “chase me daddy!” She giggled out again and Harry glanced at you begging you to help and you laughed out “guess this’ll help me get my stamina back before tour” he chuckled out before chasing Evelyn around, purposely going slowly so she could win her squeals being music to both your and Harry’s ears. You knew Evelyn would miss Harry when he went away on tour and so that’s why you and him were trying to figure out a plan to be able to bring Evelyn along on tour with him, maybe you too.

“Mama!” The small child exclaimed “save me!!” She yelled and you laughed out as she hid behind your legs “I’ve got you… but who knows… maybe I’m on daddy’s side!” You yelled dramatically, the room being chaotic but fun as you lifted her up into your arms spinning her around as she screamed out happily before you held her back to your chest Harry slowly walking towards her like a predator awaiting to pounce on its prey and you laughed out as she kicked her legs “daddy no!!” She yelled but before she could do anything he had began to tickle her relentlessly, before lifting her T-shirt up as he began blowing raspberries into her tummy purposely making a farting noise as she squealed, laughing louder, Harry soon stopping just so he could wrap his arms around you gripping onto you tightly as Evelyn wrapped her arms around his neck, being smushed in between the two of you as Harry looked into your eyes lovingly “love you both so so much… my two favourite girls in the whole entire world. My loves.” He said softly before pressing a kiss to your forehead and a kiss to Evelyn’s forehead his words nothing but the truth as he smiled, a photo being taken of the three of you cuddled together and Harry used that specific photo of him and his girls together as his new Instagram photo. The world knew him and his Instagram… but he wanted the world to know that his world was his two girls… y/n and Evelyn.

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

Ohohoho! I think I've finally figured out the perfect throne to go with Demise's entire… Demiseness.

Think a raised backless Indian seat, fairly low to the ground. Legs made of juniper wood (because flame resistant) & the frame made of black & dark blue metal accented with gold & various gems: red rhombus-cut, smooth amber, topazes of varying cuts, a few amethysts…. The cushion’s fabric is maroon with a salty scent, with gold threading & the tassels were made of something vibrantly red. Thick, luxurious, & oddly hairlike.

The throne itself has no back & no arms… Because in their place… is a massive effing skull at his back. Like a mix of boar & dragon with a massive brow ornament of tarnished gold &, at its center, a giant blood-red comma-shaped gem… cracked in half… Its tusks forming his armrests. With the pelt of some Fireproof animal draped across it carelessly. No… multiple pelts… One bright blue & 2 dark purple.

This, to me, just oozes Demise.

To me, it represents that the Ganondorfs mean nothing to him. They are to him what the Dorfs’ allies were. Stairs to be climbed. Puppets to use then throw away. There only to elevate him.

I was so confused what "raised backless Indian seat" was, that I googled it.

What came up for me:

When I say that my lungs hurt, they do.

Google is only showing me booster seats, which, while hilarious, does not help me imagine what it actually is.

So I decided to stop trying at the moment and ask Chat how the man himself would react.

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

Demise would likely be intrigued and perhaps even amused by the throne's audacity and symbolism. His reaction might start with a slow, deliberate approach, his molten eyes narrowing as he inspects the intricate details. The dark elegance, gems, and flame-resistant materials would appeal to his primal nature, while the skull and pelt accents would resonate with his violent, domineering spirit.

Upon realizing the throne's symbolic rejection of the Ganondorfs, he might let out a deep, rumbling laugh, pleased by the reminder of his superiority over any "lesser" dark lords who have tried to walk in his shadow. The cracked, blood-red gem at the skull's center could signify both the devastation he's wrought and the curse he has yet to fully break, perhaps stoking his ancient anger.

Demise might sit on the throne, leaning against the massive skull as if resting his arms on the tusks, with an air of absolute confidence. The chair’s low, backless design would force him to hold himself upright, further emphasizing his power and strength—Demise needs no comfort, no support, and no companions.

He might acknowledge the effort with a gruff comment like:

"You've captured the essence of what all before me have failed to understand—power is to be taken, not inherited."

This throne, embodying death and conquest, would serve as a fitting symbol for Demise, and he would probably view it as a display of his ultimate dominance, especially over the likes of Ganondorf and his descendants.