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alotofpockets · 10 months ago

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Travel day | Arsenal WFC

Pairing: Arsenal x Teen!Reader & Kyra Cooney-Cross x Best friend!Reader

Summary: A travel day with Arsenal, where you and Kyra can't seem to sit still. [requested]

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | Words: 1k

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Ever since you had joined Arsenal at seventeen, you were deemed the child of the group. All of your teammates were immensely protective over you. Leah was the most protective, she had let you move into her apartment, the captain not wanting you to stay somewhere on your own. At first the overly protectiveness was a bit annoying but once you realised that they all meant it well, you started to enjoy the way the team had taken you in as their family member.

When Kyra had joined the team a year later, you were grateful for another youngling on the team. The girl had quickly gotten the “annoying little sister” status, and it was to no surprise to the team that the two of you got along great right away.

Today was a travelling day for the team, you were heading overseas for a day of training, and a match the day after. You walk into the living room with your suitcase, kit bag, and your backpack, plopping them all down next to where Leah had put hers. “Hey kiddo, got everything packed?” You nod and sit down on the couch. “Socks, pyjamas, and a charger too?” You get up and walk towards her, handing her the checked off packing list. “I packed everything you wrote down for me.” She looks over the list, and is pleased with all the check marks she sees on the paper. “Alright then, Lia will be here shortly to pick us up. Oh, before I forget. I made you some sandwiches, you can put them in your backpack.”

You take the sandwiches from Leah, “Lee, what am I supposed to do with this many ham sandwiches? It’s like a two hour flight max.” You laugh at the girl but put them in your backpack anyways. “You can share with Kyra, as I am guessing that the two of you will use up enough energy to need those later.”

A couple minutes later, Lia arrives to pick the both of you up. “Hey kid, ready for today?” Lia asks as she gives you a quick hug. “Yeah, I’m excited.” With your luggage in the car, Lia drives the three of you to Colney where the team would meet up to head to the airport together.

When you arrive at the airport, and have checked in your baggage and gone through costumes, you arrive at the gate. You drop your backpack to the floor where Leah sits down, and rush off to find Kyra again. When the girl notices you, she dropped her own bag next to Katie, and started running away from you. You sprint after her, chasing her around the gate.

The team watches the two of you run around amused, wincing when you’d nearly miss other airport goers. “Should we stop them?” Katie says to Leah, when you finally manage to catch up to Kyra, and tackle her to the ground. “I say let them tire themselves out, so we have a peaceful flight.” She said the last part as a joke, but seeing the amount of energy the two of you had at the moment, it was best to let some of it out now.

They let you run around, and go back to their own conversations. Occasionally someone films the two of you, many of the clips either ending up on their Instagram stories or on their Tiktok’s. You had no clue about any of it though, as you were having the time of your life running with Kyra.

You were grateful for the sandwiches that Leah made for you, when your stomach started growling. Grabbing both yours and Kyra’s backpack, you head back to her. She was sitting by the window, watching the planes move around in the distance. Like Leah had suggested, you shared the sandwiches with Kyra, getting through quite a few of them until Kyra pulled a ball from her backpack, with a sly smile on her face.

The two of you start kicking the ball back and forth for a bit, before you start to do keep ups together, trying to not let the ball hit the ground. That’s when Katie steps in, and grabs the ball from midair, “Where did you even get a ball?” The older woman asks. “From Kyra’s backpack.” You say in defence, raising your hands up in surrender. Kyra rolls her eyes at how quickly you threw her under the bus, but she would’ve done the same thing if it would have been Leah that stepped in. Katie takes the ball with her, as she sits back down next to Caitlin. “Kids.” She shakes her head, but looks in your direction with a smile.

Once the plane had taken off, it didn’t take long for both you and Kyra to fall asleep.

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leahwilliamsonn just posted to their story

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Only to be full of energy again as the both of you woke up when the plane landed. You were bouncing your legs up and down, waiting to be able to get off the plane. There was no time for you to let out your energy now, as you went straight to baggage claim and onto the bus that was waiting to get you to the stadium you would be playing in a couple of days.

However, the moment that you set foot onto the field, you were back to running around on the field with Kyra in tow. Occasionally either one of you would be taken aside to take a picture with some of your teammates, but you always found each other again.

Once Kyra was taken aside by Alessia for a picture, you ran over to Leah. The girl welcomed you with open arms, “Hi kiddo, having fun so far?” You step into her arms, and hug her tight. “Yes, I can’t wait to play here.” You stay in her arms with your head leaned against her chest.

Kyra walked back up to you with a ball in hand. You look up to Leah, “Yeah, go on. Have fun.” And with that you made your way onto the field with Kyra, finishing the game of keep ups that was interrupted in the airport.

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#arsenal wfc #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc imagine #kyra cooney cross #kyra cooney cross x reader #kyra cooney cross imagine #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics

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tiyawnyana · 1 year ago

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Kinktober: Day 16

Toys

A/N: I just about screamed while writing this

Pairing: Lo'ak x (fem) Human character

Warnings: teasing, toys, vibrating egg usage, nipple play, finger sucking, clit stimulation, jerking off, mutual masterbating (in a way?), cumming on chest

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The halls to the old compound are messy. Chairs strewn about. Boxes torn open for supplies. But it still echoes as you toss things aside.

"Damn, the air in here is stale," Lo'ak complains behind you. He huffs, but is thankful that for once he doesn't have to crouch as he walks.

"Right? Terrible, I wish they'd at least fix the air filtration systems, we come here all the time to grab supplies," you grumble in annoyance, before stumbling over a stray chair around the corner,"Fuck!"

Lo'ak thankfully grabs you, big hand wrapped around your midsection as he snorts, settling you back on your feet.

"Ever the graceful one, huh?"

"Can you shut up, I just saw you trip over a branch yesterday, Spider monkey," you stick your tongue out, thankfully without your mask in the way. It lays strapped on your hip. You look up before sighing in relief,"We're at the bunks, thank fuck."

Lo'ak nods after chuckling to himself, then follows you through the doors.

"Norm said I'd have better luck going to the far left section to find some old clothes, you're welcome to just look around, I dunno," you shrug, turning to the left to search.

He whoops silently, then walks off to check some stuff out.

"Don't touch the control panels- Lo'ak! Listen-"

"Yeah, yes, don't touch panels, I gotcha!" He yells back, snickering.

You fondly roll your eyes before heading down the hall. You check a few old rooms, browsing the old photos some of the women had strewn up, or books they had kept to the side. You're able to finally find some useful things, sighing again in relief and packing it away in your big bag.

You check out a few more rooms, stuffing clothes into the bag. You enter the last room in that hallway and put the bag down before heading to the dresser, finding a fresh pack of socks and muttering 'Score!' under your breath, before shuffling through.

You're surprised to find an unopened package, a box, so you put it to the side and quickly scour through the rest of the dresser and shoving the clothes into the bag. You look back to that box, then shrug, moving back over to open it with your knife. You're greeted with plastic packaging, a device that has what seems to be Spanish words explaining it. It looks to be a little remote, with two wires connected to two little egg looking things. You tilt your head in confusion before cutting open the container, moving to press the on button but nothing. You look back at the packaging and read that it needs batteries, and you grin in relief at finding batteries in the original box. You pop them in, seal the top, then turn it on and jump as the little eggs vibrate in your palm.

You gasp loudly, realizing what they were.

You would find yourself occasionally tapping into some of the old downloaded videos, obviously by the horny military guys, but still. Videos of girls on girls, guys with girls, too many to count quite frankly but they'd sometimes use devices like this to help their partner cum. Or just to tease them.

Your face grows warm just as a dull arousal begins to pool between your legs. You think for a moment of how you can use this for your own fun.. alone..

"What's that?"

You yelp, tossing the toy to the side. It clatters on the ground and those eggs vibrate loudly against the floor.

"Lo'ak! What the hell!" You gasp, clutching over your heart as it races,"Gonna put a damn bell on you, I swear."

You huff, moving to grab the toy in hopes to silence it and drop the subject so as to not embarrass yourself in front of your friend, but he beats you to it.

The toy looks tiny in his big palm, vibrating a small tickle. He snorts, quirking an eyebrow at you in a questioning look.

"What is this?" He smirks down at you.

You have to think quick. Come up with an excuse, play it off, who cares! Just don't tell him what they are!

"I'm not sure, actually," you play it cool, rolling your eyes,"I was trying to figure out what it was with the packaging, but it's in another language."

You grab said packaging, eyeing it. He peaks at it as well before snickering.

"Aren't those images evidence enough?"

"Huh? What ima-" you cough, eyes widening as your cheeks darken with blush.

Of course the packaging was going to have a universal language of boob imagery, specifically nipple action.

Lo'ak cackles out a laugh, covering his face as you sputter out jumbled words.

"Lo'ak! Shut up!"

Your face is red in mortifying embarrassment. You try to reach up and snatch the toy out of his grip but he lifts his hand, continuing to snicker.

"Lo'ak, c'mon man," you smack his arm, wanting this to end,"Just- put it down and we can go-"

He suddenly stops to grin down at you, that shit eating grin embarrassing you even further.

"I want to see how they work, though."

"You obviously know how they work now, seriously?"

"I want you to show me."

You inhale sharply. A beat of silence passes and you grow more and more flustered.

"What do you m-"

"Show me."

And he lifts one of those little vibrating eggs and trails it from your collar bone, down your chest and over your covered breasts. Even through the thin fabric of your cropped tank top and sports bra, you can feel those vibrations over your nipple, which now firms up.

You gasp quietly, backing up into the dresser, clinging to the drawer behind you.

"Lo'ak- mmph, wait-" you plead, voice already breathless and whiney.

He swallows thickly, crouching before you and grinning in satisfaction.

"C'mon, tahni, it's not like you have any reason to be embarrassed," he coos, head tilting and ears flicking,"I just want to be taught of earthly pleasure from my dear human friend."

His voice has you clenching your thighs, hot arousal coiling between them. He presses that stupid little, amazing, egg against your other boob, somehow pinpointing where your nipple is.

"Bullshit-" you grumble, panting heatedly,"You ass, you just like teasing me-"

"Oh, I love to tease you, for sure," he leans closer, eyeing you closely. He takes note of your scent changing, arousal clear from your thighs,"But this is a golden opportunity for both of us to learn. So show me, c'mon baby."

Your blush is inescapable, as is his stare. He eyes you up and down; from the averting of your gaze to the clenching of your thighs, covered by the shorts he hates so much.

You huff outwardly, grumbling low to yourself,"Fine, learning time," and your tugging your tanktop over yourself, soon followed by your sports bra. Your chest heaves, nipples hardening up in the cool, stale air.

Lo'ak then oggles your tits. Bigger, rounder, softer than the navi women he flirts with. He gulps, wanting to cup them in his big hands and give them a good, sweet squeeze. He so badly wanted to suck those perfect little nipples into his mouth. But he stifles it, despite his cock hardening up out of his sheath.

The bulge is obvious, and you see it out of your peripheral before snatching the toy from his hand. He only watches as you fiddle with the settings and reset the vibrations to a dull buzz, building up only to dull again. You didn't want this extremely hot moment, with the Sully boy that you'd been pining over since forever, to end too quickly.

You breathe hard as you take one of the eggs, trailing around your areola, teasing yourself.

"Humans tend to build up with these, from the videos I've seen." Your voice is soft, breathy.

"I thought you didn't know what it was," he teases softly, eyes not straying from your tits.

"Of course I knew- just didn't want to deal with the embarrassment," you grumble, before gasping softly as you trail it over your right nipple. Your body jerks, not used to the sensation at all but you sigh in pleasure, eyes fluttering shut as you hold it over the bud for a moment.

"Put it-" Lo'ak swallows, clearing his strained throat,"Put it over the other one."

You grin lightly, listening as you again, tease yourself by trailing it lightly around, then pressing it over your left nipple lightly, then adding pressure as you circle around.

"Mmph," you bite your lower lip to stifle your noise, but Lo'ak cups your jaw surprisingly and presses down on your chin to have you release your lip.

"We're alone," he gazes up at you with unfiltered lust,"Let me hear you, how good it feels."

You nod dumbly, and much to your surprise, Lo'ak takes things a step further as he prods at your lower lip before pressing his thumb into your mouth with a low command of 'Suck,' and boy do you, like your life depended on it. You think you almost envision it were his cock instead; which, gazing down between his crouched thighs, looks to be thick and heavy. God, you'd never wanted something down your throat more than you did now.

Your tongue wraps around his thumb, coating it in your saliva until he presses down on your appendage, holding it there with that look in his eyes. That look that makes you whine lightly around him.

He takes his thumb out of your mouth, touching your lower lip soft, almost sweet, before bringing that hand down to your chest where he cups your right boob, groaning low in his throat. He swipes his spit covered thumb over your nipple, the coolness of it making you jerk forward in surprise before he grabs at the other dangling egg and brings it up; teasing lightly then over your now cold nipple.

You moan in surprise, gazing down at him in shock and he smirks knowingly. He decides then, that he's completely involved in this 'experiment' especially when he yanks your other hand away from your left tit, then sucks your left nipple into his mouth.

"Ghk- fuck! Lo'ak, shit, wait, ah!" You're surprised, hand trying to find balance only to grip onto his braids. The growl and groan he releases around the nipple he sucks hard over almost feels like a temporary vibration.

Your pussy is pulsing by now, needy and you can't help the occasional buck of your hips.

Lo'ak pulls back, a thin string of saliva connecting your nipple to his mouth snaps and Jesus, that was almost pornographic. He grabs the other vibrating egg from your hand and presses it onto that nipple, hard, and you yelp, whining breathlessly.

You almost shriek out a moan when he figures out the settings and changes the vibration to be quicker, pulsing for longer durations.

You cling to his braids, panting and whining for what feels like an eternity, but all too soon he yanks them back, grips your midsection and tosses you onto the bed behind him. He smirks down at you, then leans over to tower above you.

"Wonder if these can be used elsewhere," is all he says before he yanks your shorts down your legs, thankfully your panties are soon after as well.

He spreads you open and gazes down at your glistening cunt like you were his last meal.

You pant, groaning with little patience before huffing,"C'mon, Lo'ak," you whine out.

He pinches your thigh lightly and chuckles at your yelp,"Patience, tahni."

You huff again.

But thankfully, he picks up those eggs and teasingly trails them down, over your ribs and across your belly. Unfortunately enough, he decides he's going to be an asshole.

He trails them around the skin of your pussy, not actually touching anything and you growl in frustration.

"Lo'ak, I swear-"

"Patience," he coos, a shit eating grin on his lips.

"Just- do it already! Please!"

He playfully rolls his eyes, mouthing 'Fine' before crouching even closer,

One empty hand reaches up, spreading your folds and with a grin, peaks at your clit, and he very quickly nestles that little heavenly toy right up against that bud and you nearly shriek yet again.

God, those vibrations are perfect. Just beyond your fingers or even, embarrassingly enough, your pillow.

And Lo'aks fingers are big, you can't escape them especially when he roughly gropes your tits, pinching at your nipples to harden them up again.

"Oh, god- Lo'ak, dontstopdontstop," you plead, back arching and neck craning back and you jerk in pleasure. He rolls it over your clit, even fiddling with the settings again to change the pattern.

BZZZ, BZZZ, BZZZ, bzzzbzzzbzzz

It's rough then soft, building you up gradually and thankfully he teases your nipples again, rolling it over before leaning up to suck a nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it then disconnecting to roll the egg over the spit slick nub. He repeats the action to the other, whilst still holding the other egg down hard on your clit.

You can feel it building up quick, too quick, you didn't want this to end but at the same time, if this was the only time something like this would happen, you needed to see his dick.

"Mmph, wait, Lo'ak," you shove at his hands, petting back his braids as you heave for breath. He gently takes the eggs off of you, surprisingly concerned.

"You alright, tahni?"

You grin lightly at the name, nodding quickly but clear your throat,"take off your tewng."

He looks surprised, evident enough in the way his ears perk up, but he listens and his tewng is tossed to the side quickly. You grab at him, poorly dragging him up to crouch on the bed but he gets what you're trying to do.

His cock is massive, and he grips the base, slapping it down over your pubic bone. You groan, gazing down at it with pure want.

Maybe you wouldn't be able to take it down your throat, but you're sure with some fingering and a lot of lube, you could ride him into next week.

But for now you put those thoughts on hold, a wild grin on your lips as you grip one of the vibrating eggs, grasp his cock in your palm, then press it against the tip.

He barks out a rough moan, body jolting against yours and you move up the bed with the force of it.

"Shit, shit, oh fuck," he moans, face pulled back in a pleasured grimace.

His hips roll against your body, cock rubbing across your belly as beads of precum drip down, leaving a mess over your skin. You can't help but moan at the sight.

He suddenly jerks back but thankfully still within grasp, grabs the other vibrating egg and nestles it right up between your folds to pulse hot against your clit again.

You moan loudly, bowing upwards before collapsing. You release his cock and he huffs, taking hold of your hand and bringing it back to his cock to hold that egg against the tip.

"Lo'ak," you drawl out in a whiney voice, blinking blearily at him.

He takes to lifting your thighs to wrap around his waist, hand going back down to press that toy harder against you.

You can't believe how unbelievably hot this is, breathing hard and moan at every single vibration at your clit.

Suddenly your thighs clench around his waist, your whole body tenses up as you grab at the blankets and shriek out a long moan. You cum hard, even somehow managing to squirt, coating Lo'aks thighs.

You breathe hard, vision blacking out as you slowly come back down.

He moans, whining lowly and your cunt throbs around nothing at that sound.

You whine, trying to reach down to move that toy away from your swollen clit, but he lightly smacks your hands away, muttering a 'Not yet'.

You blink quickly, gazing back down at his cock and finally wrapping your hand firmer around him to jerk him off sloppily and using your other hand to trail the egg around the tip, dipping into the slit.

"Shit- tahni, oh, fuck!" He jolts, hips bucking against yours roughly as he finally cums and it shoots up your chest. His release spews out over your tits, pooling into the valley in between, and even reaches up to cover your throat.

He whines as you hold that egg to his tip before jerking back, out of hold but still hovering above you, and thankfully grabs the egg away from your swollen clit.

He heaves for breath, eyes clenched shut. You sit there and breath for a while, basking in the glow of the best fucking orgasm you've had. You know now that you'll never be able to use your fingers again.

Lo'ak finally huffs out a breath, gazing down at you through lidded eyes with a dopey grin on his lips.

You almost think the moment is tender, until he opens his mouth and you snort.

"I'd say that was a successful experiment on human pleasure."

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A/N: I want him

Taglist:

@akoyaxs

(Lmk if you want to be added!)

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar imagine #avatar smut #avatar kinktober #avatar way of water #kinktober #lo’ak avatar #loak x reader #loak #lo'ak smut #lo’ak smut #loak smut #avatar loak #loak sully

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roosterforme · 2 years ago

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The Younger Kind Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You aren't surprised when Bradley asks you to babysit Noah so he can go out. But it throws you for a loop when he comes home from his date early and gets a little flirtatious with you instead.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (eventually 18+)

Length: 3300 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

You weren't too surprised to get a text from Bradley a few days later asking if you could watch Noah on Saturday afternoon for an hour or two. But as you read the message, your mind drifted again, as it had been doing since you met him.

Bradley was so attractive. Like honestly one of the best looking men you had ever seen in person. It was everything: the way he looked, his big hands, his voice, his mustache, how much he loved his son.

When you ran into Penny yesterday, you told her that you'd met the boys, and that you really clicked with Noah right away. She seemed happy that you would be watching Noah for Bradley occasionally.

She also told you that Bradley was getting back into the dating scene, and that's why he needed someone to watch Noah in the first place. How someone as good looking as Bradley Bradshaw ever managed to fall out of the dating scene was beyond your comprehension.

He would probably be a gentleman on a date. Pay for everything, open doors, lace his fingers through yours, maybe even kiss your cheek. You could imagine him waiting until the third or fourth date to invite you back to his place. Then he'd probably rock your socks off with his huge hands, amongst other things.

Oh, you felt a little warmer every time you thought about him. At least you'd barely see him when you were at his house. Just a quick hello when you got there, and then a quick goodbye when you left. You'd get to spend most of your time coloring dinosaurs and building castles with Noah. And that was just fine with you.

You agreed to be there at noon on Saturday. Noah usually went down for a nap after he ate lunch, and Bradley didn't want him to start his nap before you got there, and then potentially be confused about why you were there instead of his dad. You packed up a bag of snacks and a few things to read for your classes. Then you pulled on some leggings and a tank top and headed out.

You hoped Bradley had a coffee maker. Shit, you should have asked him if it was okay to use the stuff in his kitchen. Should you be bringing your own coffee with you? You'd find out all of this information and be better prepared for the next time. There was absolutely no time for you to stop for coffee now.

You parked in the driveway next to his cool Ford Bronco, grabbed your stuff and knocked on the door. When Bradley answered the door, he had Noah in his arms, and you smiled at both of them as they smiled at you.

"Come on in," Bradley told you, pushing the door open wider. "We just finished lunch, and someone is getting sleepy."

You watched Noah yawn and then promptly tell his dad that he wasn't tired at all.

"Maybe we can play blocks or color before you take a teeny tiny little nap? I brought you another coloring book," you said, rummaging in your bag. "This one is safari animals."

"Okay," Noah agreed with another yawn, and you led him into the kitchen.

You could feel Bradley's eyes on you as you turned to look at him over your shoulder. His eyes flicked up to meet yours. "You don't have to stay. I've got him," you promised, but Bradley followed you into the kitchen.

"If I leave now, I'll get there too early," he said, pouring a mug of coffee. "Want some?"

"I'd love some," you sighed, and he met your eyes with curiosity.

He got a second mug out of the cabinet that said Top Gun, Top Dad and handed it to you. You laughed, and he grinned at you. "There's sugar in the cabinet, and I've got milk and fancy hazelnut creamer. Please don't judge me."

"I love fancy creamers," you promised, opening the refrigerator and pouring a healthy amount into your coffee. Other than that and the milk, the refrigerator was pretty empty.

"I realize there's basically nothing to eat here, but if you see it and you want it, by all means, help yourself," he told you before sipping his coffee. "What's your favorite flavor of coffee creamer? I'll buy it next time so it's here for you."

"French vanilla. And thanks," you said, meeting his gaze again. His hands were so big, they dwarfed his oversized mug, and his eyes were the exact shade of your favorite iced macchiato from Starbucks.

You quickly turned away from him to sit next to Noah, and you helped him color a zebra orange and green.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Bradley fidget with the dishwasher and then finish his coffee before messing around with the stove burners. When he turned back to face you, he caught you looking at him.

"I'm just nervous," he muttered, huffing out a laugh. "I'll get going. Get out of your hair."

He kissed Noah on the top of his head and promised you he'd be back in about two hours. "No rush," you replied with a smile. "I'll put this little guy down for a nap soon, so really, take your time. Enjoy your date."

Bradley paused and looked at you with surprise. "How did you know I'm going on a date?"

"Oh," you said, suddenly afraid you had overstepped. "Well, Penny told me you were starting to date again. I didn't pry for more information though. Promise."

But he just shrugged and ran his fingers across his lips and mustache. "It's okay. I just haven't been on a date in years. And right now.... I am dreading this," he said with a laugh, his eyes silently pleading with you.

You nodded and handed a purple crayon to Noah. "Yeah, well, at least you're not going out with a twenty three year old guy," you told him. "At least I don't think you are?" you asked, giving him side eye.

He barked out a laugh that made you feel fuzzy inside. "Worse. I'm going out with a woman in her thirties who probably expects me to have my life together. As soon as I mention him," Bradley said, nodding at Noah, "it will in all likelihood result in a zero percent chance at a second date."

You scoffed. "Well, then at least you'd know up front that she's an idiot." You watched his eyes widen as he smiled. "Sorry. That was mean. I'm sure you must like her if you're going out to lunch with her."

"No, no. You're not wrong. And I barely know her. Plus she's a coworker. We're just getting coffee."

You looked him up and down, noting the nice fit of his gray chinos and fitted black shirt. "Well, you look really nice. If all else fails, you can probably just flirt with a barista and score a free drink."

He laughed again, but this time it was accompanied by a pink flush to his cheeks. Were you seriously making this huge, sexy man blush. Your heart was absolutely racing now as you absentmindedly colored a hyena. Bradley was running one large hand along the back of his neck and reaching into his pocket.

"Here, I made you a key for the front door," he said, handing it to you. His fingers felt warm and sturdy as they grazed your palm, and you just looked up at him for a few seconds. "There's always cash behind the TV if you need it. I'll leave my phone on if you need anything else."

"Sounds good. Try to have fun." You watched him nod and kiss Noah one more time before he left. But as soon as Bradley was gone, the house felt too big and too quiet as you sat in the kitchen.

Noah was absorbed in the coloring book, but he was also clearly sleepy. When you eventually suggested he just lay in his bed while you sang a song about going on a safari, he agreed. And soon he was fast asleep.

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Bradley didn't know how to do this. Grace was really pretty, but talking to her was tedious. She was his age, but she seemed immature. She was smart, but she didn't seem to understand his humor.

For every positive, there was at least one negative, and he just couldn't see how there would possibly be a second date.

"You know, Rooster," she said smiling at him across the table, "I'll only be down from Lemoore for the month. If you want to just make this casual, I wouldn't mind that at all."

So she just wanted to hook up with him. He could probably handle hooking up. He'd done it in the past with no problems. But then why was he even sitting in a coffee shop, trying to find someone who could love him and his son? He was actually lonely, and he was getting too old for this shit.

"Rebel... I'm not really into that anymore. I'm looking for someone who wants to meet my son and spend time around him, too."

"Oh," she said, clearly startled. "You have a kid."

"I have a kid," he confirmed. "Noah is three years old. Almost four."

She leaned away from him. "I didn't know that."

He just shrugged and played with his empty cup.

"Well, the hookup offer still stands. You can call me if you change your mind."

And then she was gone, and Bradley was sitting at the table alone. He checked the time. He'd barely been gone for an hour. He could just go back home to Noah. And you. Maybe just hang out for the rest of the afternoon. That really didn't sound half bad to him as he stood up and got in line again.

Once he had the to-go cup in his hand, he made his way back to his Bronco and drove home. He parked next to your car in his driveway and carried the cup with his name scrawled across it into his house.

He closed the front door quietly behind him and followed the sound of soft music coming from the kitchen. Noah must still be sleeping if you were listening to something so softly. He paused in the doorway; you were reading what looked like a textbook at his kitchen table and eating one Skittle at a time. He watched your fingers dip into the bag of candy and raise a purple one to your mouth. Your fingernails were painted blue. You had on that same lipgloss you were wearing the other day. And you were singing along to a song that he just so happened to love.

"How do you know this song?" he asked, and you jumped out of your chair with your hand over your heart. "Shit, I didn't mean to scare you." He took a step closer to you as you tipped your head back and sighed.

"I didn't hear you come in!" you said, pressing your glossy lips together and looking at him. "You were barely gone an hour."

He took a step closer to you, inhaling that wildflower scent that had taken over his kitchen. "Yeah... turns out my date was kind of an idiot."

Your eyes went a little wide. "She had a problem with Noah?"

Bradley shrugged. "Figured this whole dating thing would turn into a fiasco. Just didn't know it would happen so soon. Here, this is for you."

You eyed the cup in his hand, a confused look on your face. "For me?"

"Yeah. It's French vanilla. I flirted with the barista until they threw it at me in self defense. You were right, worked like a charm," he said, and you took the cup from him as your face softened while you laughed.

"Told ya," you whispered, looking up at him with such innocent eyes. Oh god, that feeling was back again. He didn't want to stop looking at you. You understood his humor, and you weren't boring to talk to. But worst of all, Bradley really liked the way your body looked.

He cleared his throat as you sipped the coffee and smiled. "You didn't tell me how you know this song."

"Everyone knows this song."

He shook his head. "Nobody knows this song. I love this song, and nobody ever knows what it is. It came out when I was a kid, way way way before you were born."

You giggled and said, "You're not that old. You couldn't be."

"Guess," he said with narrowed eyes.

"You want me to guess how old you are?" you asked, licking your lips. "What's in it for me? Because if I guess too young, you'll laugh at me. And if I guess too old, you'll be mad at me."

He shook his head. "Promise I won't laugh or get mad."

You bit your lip. "Thirty-three?"

He pointed up with index finger.

"Thirty-five?"

He pointed up again, and you looked surprised.

"You're older than thirty-five?"

"I'm thirty-six."

"You look younger than your age," you told him, picking up your coffee for another sip. You seemed to like the drink. He would probably get you one next time too.

"You look younger than your age, too," he said before he could consider his words. He already felt borderline inappropriate for looking at you so much, and saying you looked young would probably just make it worse. But he couldn't help himself. Your leggings were tight. Your tank top was his favorite color, and your skin looked so soft.

But you just smirked at him when he finally met your eyes again. "I look young? Then I guess it's a good thing I'm not younger. Or else you might be getting in trouble for where you're looking."

Bradley froze in place, lips parted and cheeks rapidly heating up. "Shit," he gasped, turning away from you. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you said quickly. "I was just messing with you."

"No," he said, swallowing hard as he headed for the hallway. Oh, he was so fucking embarrassed. He was twelve years older than you. He had clearly been checking you out. You were the babysitter. "I'll go check on Noah."

Bradley made a beeline down the hallway to Noah's room. When he peeked in, he saw his son's brown eyes starting to peek open. "You awake, bub?

Noah just nodded and reached for Bradley to scoop him up. He held onto Noah's warm little body and gave him a few kisses, carrying him to the kitchen to get a snack.

You were still there, packing your books up into your bag. "Hey, Noah. Did you have a good nap?" you asked, stroking his cheek and making Bradley's insides melt. "He really is such a sweet kid. We had fun right?"

"Yeah, we colored and read a book about the muffin man," Noah said. "Can I have the snack you made?"

"Of course," you told him, and Bradley watched you open the refrigerator and pull out a plate of carrot sticks with peanut butter and raisins on top. "There you go. Ants on a log."

Bradley set Noah down on one of the kitchen chairs and watched him eat the healthy snack you made. Now that Bradley looked around, he noticed you had cleaned up a bit.

He cleared his throat and forced himself to meet your eyes. At least you didn't look upset with him. "You didn't have to clean up in here."

"I don't mind. You're already paying me more per hour than I make at my work study," you replied, ruffling Noah's hair with your fingers. "I'm gonna go, kiddo. Maybe I'll see you again soon?"

Noah hugged you around the middle, and Bradley realized he was going to have to go on another date in order to get you to come over and watch Noah again. It didn't seem like a possibility to just invite you over to hang out with the two of them.

You picked up your things and headed for the living room. "I realize you're probably not going on a second date with her, but let me know if you need me again?"

"I will," he replied, taking one more good look at your lips.

"Thanks for flirting so hard that the barista made you my favorite kind of coffee," you told him with a smile. "Bye, Noah. Bye, Bradley."

As soon as you were gone, Bradley was eating an ant on a log and scrambling to open the dating app on his phone. He'd line up a date right this minute if it meant getting you to come over to his house again.

Then he froze as his fingers hovered over the photo of a woman who's entire bio was dedicated to her seven cats. He wasn't suddenly interested in you for any other reason than the fact that he'd had a shitty date and he was craving attention from a woman. He really just needed to connect with someone his own age and then get laid.

You weren't anything special. And you were way too young anyway. You just happened to be the only one who had really looked at him and joked with him in such a long time. No wonder he felt all mixed up.

He'd find a date on the app for real. Not just to get you to come over again.

"Let's go play outside," Bradley told Noah after he finished messaging three different women.

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

You had two problems. The first one was the fact that you had so much fun with Noah, you wanted to babysit him again. But Bradley hadn't texted you back in the last few days and asked if you were available.

Your second problem was the fact that you actually had a gigantic crush on Bradley and wanted to see him again, too. Even if it meant he only needed you to sit with Noah because he had another date.

He had been checking you out. You were so sure of it. He was so flustered. It all made you feel silly inside. But Bradley was really funny and witty, and you really enjoyed being around him.

And how flattering, a thirty six year old man softly flirting with you in his kitchen.

Every time your phone went off, you checked to see if it was Bradley. But it never was. It was always Greyson trying to get you to drive out to his place and hookup. It was Thursday evening, and you were just bored enough to take him up on the offer. You were in the middle of texting him back when you got a message from Bradley.

Bradley Bradshaw: Any chance you can come over again tomorrow night?

That meant he had another date. Unsurprising. The man was hot, funny, and liked good music.

What time do you want me? I can be there around 5 at the earliest.

You texted Grey back and told him you'd stop over in a bit. You started tossing some things into an overnight bag, along with your books for class the next day, just in case you fell asleep there.

Bradley Bradshaw: Come at 6? I'll have dinner ready for you if you want to eat here.

You replied to Bradley with a simple thumbs up, letting him know you would be there tomorrow. Then you sighed and walked out to your car, making the drive to Greyson's apartment.

As you watched him drink and play MLB The Show, ignoring you despite having asked you to come, you couldn't help but think about how your semi-employer treated you better than your on-again off-again hookup did. But you ended up passing out on his couch for the night after a few minutes of making out, because you knew nothing would ever happen with Bradley, no matter how much the idea enticed you.

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

She had equally flattering first impressions of Bradley...and now she has a crush. Enjoy your Daddy Rooster and babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster x female reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw x female reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine

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shegatsby · 1 year ago

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Hear me out — Reader saves Hannibal from some sort of “his ass was this -> <- far away from being caught by fbi & friends in the dumbest way possible” scenario. They don’t want his gratitude, money or gifts but instead worm their way into his office, home & kitchen — which we all know is his life. Disrespecting his desk by using it as a chair while he works, shuffling papers around, molesting his multitude of couches & books, re-arranging his coffee station, moving all the huge / weird and not nice to use cutlery to the bottoms of the holders. This plus other things that he doesn’t know if it’s slowly driving him insane or if he’s being brainwashed when he starts preferring their ways of organized chaos.

But then they also do less annoying things, like always walking around with only socks inside. Taking over a small section of his fridge / freezer. Tugging on his apron, jacket, sleeve - anything they can reach to get his attention. Pointing out the neighborhood cats that often sunbathe in his garden; with little recaps of some of their antics. Using non-metal cooking utensils in his pots and pans. Filling the bottom drawer of his desks with mini snack packs and tiny chocolates. Giving his patients or colleagues odd nicknames - usually to do with their actions or an item of clothing they were wearing when they accidentally met Reader. Playing videogames or reading on the top floor while he has patients & then making a short comment or 2 occasionally when they leave. Getting a very plush and huggable animal pillow and leaving it on his bed — the first few weeks it will get moved to the top of the dresser when he goes to bed, shooting it with untrusting side eyes. And then later it gets moved to the empty side. And every so often when he cooks Reader will sneak up on him & just hug him from behind, moving wherever with him and eventually letting go when they have energy for the world again or when their meal is ready.

Sorry this got so specific! You’re free to ignore any of it lol! I was thinking fem or GN reader. Reader also probably knows about his dietary quirks and isn’t that bothered - their own quirk is that they view vegetables as a luxury and will clear anything and everything he makes of the sort; while also making sure to leave some for their lunch the next day.

A/N; Hi! Sorry it took me a while to post, I was busy with work. Sorry for any typos, enjoy!

Warnings; None.

When Hannibal Lecter looked at you from afar, his mind went back to the time where you changed his entire life. 3 years ago he was in Italy, teaching and enjoying his time. Well, maybe he was enjoying his time too much, because in his entire life this was the first time he almost got caught, one of the professors at the university he was teaching got too cocky and last thing he remembered was he was holding a blood dripping knife in his dominant hand, there was a knock on the door, -the professors wife- and you climbed through the window to save him. You were his assistant at the time, carrying his bag and papers, grading papers for him, you were following him almost everywhere. That night, you had a hunch, and you followed that hunch which led you to this scenario. The rest is history…

After 3 years so many things have changed, you started to live with him, he didn’t know if he wanted to kill you or not because you saw him killing, and you proved yourself to be useful so decided to keep you. Your rooms were separate, not even on the same floor, but whenever Hannibal was stressed you were always by his side, it was like a marriage but without the any complicated paper work. He liked to take you to his office sometimes, or dinners etc. Whenever someone would ask about you Hannibal’s first instinct was to protect you and tell people that you were his partner. You were protected.

At the moment he was watching you, you were watching a movie from your laptop (which Hannibal bought) covered in comfy blankets, sitting on your bed, you looked so calm and focused. He wondered what would’ve happened if he killed you that day..

‘’Is there a room for me?’’ he said, he was startled by his own question, sitting with a young person and watching a movie together wasn’t like him but over the years he found himself doing things he could not imagine before.

You looked up to meet his maroon gaze, your bedroom door was open and he was leaning on the door frame, his hair was a mess and rolled up sleeves showed his tense arms, you didn’t say anything just moved from the center of your bed. He approached with lazy steps, sat next to you, ‘’How was work?’’ you asked, ‘’Psycho was a handful as usual.’’

Hannibal had a patient and he was something else and you named him Mr. Psycho

‘’He asked about you.’’ Hannibal said as he got comfortable, ‘’What did you say?’’ that patient was asking about you a lot lately, maybe he was interested in you but whatever that was it made Hannibal irritated. You could tell by a glance, ‘’I said they are busy.’’ Even his tone was irritated. You could feel a smile forming in the corners of your mouth. No matter what you knew that Hannibal would do anything and everything to protect you.

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titaniasfairy · 11 months ago

Text

oh simon’s so possessive…

cw: fem!reader, possessiveness, creepy men, slut shaming for a bit , possessiveness (again), breeding kink, aftercare

he doesn’t share food. his best mate could be starving and begging on his knees to just let his LT give him his mashed potatoes but simon would not budge. claims he needs the nutrients despite him eating 3,000 calories a day.

doesn’t share his tea either, but you could expect that from a brit. this man has a whole cabinet in the break room dedicated to his tea bags, sugar, herbs, etc. and don’t even think about using his milk when the regular gallon has gone bad or ran out. simon writes his name in bold sharpie across the carton, marking his property.

it’s like he was never taught the word ‘share’ in pre-school. you don’t even think you’ve heard him say ‘share’ before. it was no use telling him “sharing is caring” because that man in fact did not care and he’d scoff in your face if you uttered the phrase.

need an extra sip of water? sorry! simon’s already drinking the last bit while you’re asking him for some.

lost some socks in the drier and need to borrow one his millions of black ones? no can do! he can’t have an uneven number of socks! even if you pinky promise with a cherry on top he’ll tell you that he can’t trust you.

even down to the most minute of things, simon riley would not give up his stuff for anyone. you recall captain price asking him for a pen to sign some documents, but simon sent him packing.

but there was one thing he especially didn’t share: his lovers.

simon had never been broken up with in his life, he simply wouldn’t allow it. the relationship wasn’t over until he told his partner it was. so when you agreed to start seeing simon casually, it was like you were placed on lockdown.

it wasn’t like he didn’t trust you to be faithful, no no. he didn’t trust any man with eyes, hands, or a cock to be around you. you were just that precious to him.

despite you telling him repeatedly that this was only a “casual” thing (your definition of casual meaning occasional hookups and dates), simon treated the ordeal like you were a princess destined to marry your knight in a skull balaclava.

you were given the best treatment: flowers he picked from outside, dinner he cooked just for you, and not to mention the plethora of clothes and jewelry he donned you with. it was like having a sugar daddy- minus the creepy old man.

and the sex, oh it was heavenly. every time simon laid you down in bed you saw the pearly gates. his hands being the most holy thing to exist while he worshiped you at the altar of his bedroom and his cock blessing you with his love and mercy.

but this was most definitely casual, right? you were mostly in denial but would never come to terms with it.

when it came to you, simon was a different kind of possessive. not the “don’t touch my things” or “i’m not sharing” type, but the ravenous “i’ll gauge your eyes out and feed them to you” kind of possessive.

everywhere you go, simon’s not far behind. you will never be untouched unless you ask to be and there will always be a hand holding yours or an arm wrapped around your waist. it was like being with simon in public was like having a giant man surgically attached to you.

and so help him god, if anyone looks at you wrong they will hear about it! simon has no use to be scared of confrontation, given his massive size and downright scary voice. not to mention the whole skull mask was enough to get a grown man pissing his pants.

you two were in the grocery store, looking for ingredients for a new soup you wanted to make. while in the checkout line you could feel yourself needing to pee badly, and excused yourself to the nearby restroom.

on any normal day simon would wait patiently near the bathrooms, but seeing how long the checkout line was he relented on letting you go alone.

you peed, washed your hands, and reapplied some of your lip gloss in the mirror. before you left you adjusted the skirt you were wearing that fell to the middle of your thighs, simon loves it when you wear skirts, especially the ones he bought you.

after drying your hands you left to go find simon, before being startled by a man. he was about 5’10” to 6’0” with a medium build, but it was obvious he was a bit older. maybe mid to late forties.

“oh! i’m sorry i didn’t see you there.” you smiled at him and tried to move out of his way. he didn’t budge. “oh- excuse me sir.” still no movement.

“aren’t you a sight?” he stared down at you, eyes focused on your chest. you thought that he might be just trying to give you a compliment, some older men are like that.

“thank you mister, now if you’ll excuse me-“

“what’s your name baby?” god where was simon when you needed him?! you looked around and asked for help with your eyes, but no one seemed to notice you.

“i asked you a question, now.” you lied and gave him a fake name. ‘maybe he’ll just go away now’ you thought. he gave you a creepy grin and grabbed the hem of your skirt.

“isn’t that a little too inappropriate for a grocery store? or were you just asking for someone to-“

“what the fuck do you think you’re doin?’ you fuckin’ mad?” simon finally intervened the shit show that was unfolding.

“well your lady here needs to learn that if she doesn’t want attention then she shouldn’t dress like it.” he gestured towards your outfit. simon stepped in between you two to stop him from looking.

“she’ll dress however the fuck she wants to, and if you don’t get away from er’ , you’ll be dressing for your own funeral, lad.” simon put his hands on the man’s shoulders and you just can’t bring yourself to stop him. he just looked so much taller and bigger than the man that was just towering over you like a hawk watching its prey.

“you ever heard of keeping your hands to yourself?” simon’s accent gets thicker with each sentence while he begins to redden with anger, even through the skull balaclava.

“sir, that’s enough.” a store manager separates simon and the man. he takes your hand gently and leads you to the car.

“you alright, luv?” he only wanted you to be safe.

later that night, simon’s fucking you rough. his hands and gripping your hips like a vice and his cock his ramming into your sopping wet pussy. you can feel his fingertips begin to leave bruises while his lips work on marking your neck and collarbones.

“gotta make sure everyone knows you’re mine, darlin’”

your back arches and your freshly manicured nails are scratching his back, giving him the marks he oh so desires every time you touch him. simon’s name hangs from your lips like foliage once fell from ancient gardens, your eyes rolling back to your skull.

every sound you make just eggs him on further, his grip switching from your hips to the back of your knees. simon pushes your legs back to press up against your chest, giving him a deeper angle to thrust into.

“you feel unreal, babygirl. gotta keep you all to myself, you’re too good to give up.”

your moans are so pornographic to the point where the neighbors might complain. you or simon don’t seem to care, too caught up in the feeling of euphoria that only the two of you can give each other.

after a few minutes of ruthless fucking, the coil in your tummy begins to tighten and your legs shake in simon’s grip. you don’t even have to tell him that you’re close before he’s encouraging your orgasm.

“come on, luv. need to feel you cum on my cock, angel.” simon’s fingers graze your clit and you’re done for. your legs spasm and your hips buck into the air, releasing your sticky fluids onto simon’s pelvis and his cock. he lets out a visceral moan and pushes your legs farther back to behind your head, impaling you faster and harder then ever before.

“gonna fuckin�� fill you up. give you a baby, yeah? make sure everyone knows who you belong to. all mine. have you swell up with my kid. that’ll show em’ right?”

he fills you up fast while he’s speaking, simon’s cum shoots into your womb and you’re completely overstimulated. you cry out incoherent pleas while you clench around him with a powerful force.

simon shushes you and kisses you softly while you come down from your high. he strokes your face and tells you that he’s right here and it’ll be okay. this is what’s so special about him, his ways of ruining your body and immediately stitching it back together with a golden thread.

he lets himself sit inside your for a few minutes before pulling out and cleaning you up. but not before he gets all of his extra seed inside you, using his fingers to scoop up any excess. “gotta make sure it takes” he says.

simon doesn’t share, not even the things that are supposed to be casual.

#simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mwii #cod mwiii #cod mw3 #cod mw2 #call of duty

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stray-kaz · 2 years ago

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His Mistake : an Anthony Lockwood x f!reader drabble

The Gist of This: A drabble built around my headcanon that Lockwood would definitely say something stupid and/or offensive, unintentionally, when you’re on your period.

You groaned, lying prone on the couch in the sitting room, clutching a heated wheat pack to your stomach. Lucy sat with your socked feet in her lap, occasionally patting you in sympathy. George sat in another chair, absentmindedly flicking through a book while keeping half an eye on you, just in case.

Meanwhile, Lockwood watched you with a grim look on his face, almost inscrutable. He pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning on and stood over you with arms folded.

“Are you sure it isn’t your appendix?” he asked, more like demanded.

George blinked in surprise and Lucy glared up at Lockwood with narrowed eyes. You snorted in derision and then moaned again, pressing your face into the cushions.

“Appendicitis doesn’t cause you to bleed from your uterus, Lockwood” Lucy said tersely.

He threw up his hands in exasperation, rolling his eyes.

“Well, I know that!” he retorted.

“Do you?” George mumbled from behind his book.

Lockwood shot him a quelling glance he didn’t even notice and returned his gaze to you.

“We have more important things to do than sit around worrying about your contracting uterus. We have cases to complete! There are paying clients waiting on us!”

He knew the second he’d gone too far and physically started to back up, his feet propelling him backwards until he hit the closed door. He glanced frantically at George, who simply smirked back at him over the top of his book. You swung your feet off Lucy’s lap and stood up, wincing at the pain you felt with any and all movement. You stalked toward Lockwood, wheat pack all but glued to your front.

When you reached him, you prodded a finger into his chest with enough force to hurt.

“You have no idea what this feels like, Anthony Lockwood. If you did, you wouldn’t be pushing me so hard. But, boss, if you really want me fighting Type Twos while I am bleeding like a stuck pig, with a high chance of throwing up due to extreme exertion and pain, and therefore, with a higher chance of dying on the job, by all means, give the order.”

Lockwood stared at you with worried dark eyes; he had never looked more like Bambi, but as you pushed past him to go to your room, you pretended not to care.

An hour or so later, there was a somber knock on your door. Feeling a little less sore, you got up to answer it. Lockwood stood in the gap, shoulders hunched uncomfortably as he looked down at you. The top two buttons of his white dress shirt were undone, as though he had been fiddling, working up the courage to see you.

“I’m sorry” he said quietly, awkward. “It was my mistake.”

“Yes, it was” you agreed, propping your hands on your hips. “You’re lucky you’re cute and always apologise first.”

Lockwood released a sigh of relief and moved closer, his hands replacing yours on your hips.

“I love you” he said softly.

“You’d better.”

“And I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You smiled and reached up to link your hands behind his neck.

“I know. Now stop talking and kiss me, Lockwood.”

He did, too.

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co fics #anthony lockwood x female reader #liss writes

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coopigeoncoo · 2 years ago

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The Whole Dang Zoo

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Female Reader

Mentions: Female Reader, humor, fluff, nicknames, pet names, traditionally female animal nicknames, traditionally insulting animal nicknames, implied sex offscreen.

Summary: It wasn't hard for Todoroki Shouto to start using pet names. What was difficult was figuring out when he should stop.

"A rat, Todoroki? You called your girlfriend a rat?" Mina screeched in disbelief.

"They're actually very intelligent and clean animals."

Continue reading below, or follow the link to Ao3!

Back during his early days at UA, Shouto had to learn to navigate a great many new things: friendships, rivalries, and the beguiling labyrinth of unspoken social conventions involved with human interaction.

Shouto liked to think that he learned from his mistakes and adapted quickly. He no longer heated leftover fish in the communal microwave and only needed an occasional reminder that people found it intimidating and not a sign of intense interest when he maintained eye contact for extended periods of time without blinking.

But some situations proved more difficult for him to navigate than others because he simply did not have the appropriate context to frame them with. So when fliers appeared on the bulletin board by the front door of Heights Alliance advertising two different events happening at the same time, he simply chose the one that appealed to him more; a relaxing movie night in over a round of laser tag at a local arcade.

Shouto hadn’t even considered the possibility that these events had been organized with strict gender boundaries in mind because using any attendance criteria other than interest seemed wildly illogical. So when he appeared in the doorway of dorm lounge that weekend, clad in his comfiest pajamas and bearing a small caddy of his usual hair products as the flier requested, there was only a brief moment of shocked confusion on the girls part before they cheered loudly and guided him over to a huge nest of blankets on the floor.

Hagakure shared her lip mask with him, Ashido painted his toenails a stunning Prussian Blue, and Yaoyorozu had generously lent him use of her head so he could follow along with Uraraka's instructions on how to make a reverse fishtail braid. He'd had an incredibly lovely evening with the girls and had unknowingly chosen his side of the class gender divide. His unwitting decision was validated hours later when the rest of the Class A boys returned to Heights Alliance sopping wet and sporting a wide variety of injuries, from Bakugou's split lip to Kaminari's incredibly swollen double black eyes. Shouto watched them shuffle miserably, many sporting pronounced limps and moaning in pain while he snuggled down deeper into a fuzzy sherpa throw and sipped contentedly on a cup of lavender tea.

Sero broke away from the pack and stumbled into the kitchen, pulling a can of milk tea from the fridge before trudging towards Shouto, his wet socks squelching inside of his house slippers with every step. He held the can out to Shouto's left side with a pleading grin.

"Can you heat this up for me, man? It's been a long night."

Shouto took the can and steadily increased the temperature of his palm, gently heating the tea up and returning the can to Sero, who thanked him profusely before collapsing onto the couch with a groan. Sero popped the top of the can open and took a fortifying sip before rolling up the legs of his sweatpants, revealing large welts running up both of his legs.

"You look terrible," Shouto stated blandly. "What even happened tonight?"

"Well, uh- we thought it would be funny to throw Bakugou into a river," Sero laughed nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck. "And in our defense, it was! What happened after was way less amusing though."

"Oh? What happened after?"

"Bakugou made us regret throwing him into a river."

"Ah," Shouto said, examining a particularly wicked looking bite mark under Sero's knee. "That would do it."

From then on, Shouto was 'one of the girls' and joined them for their regularly scheduled activities. Shopping trips, smoothie runs, cookie decorating classes, Survivalist Training, volunteer dog walking, and plenty of movie nights on the days they were too tired to venture out into the city.

As the years passed and their responsibilities as Heroes increased they still did their best carve out time to meet up once a month when their schedules allowed. Sometimes only two or three of them would be available, but tonight was one of the rare nights when the stars had shifted into an auspicious arrangement (Shouto was unsure exactly about what celestial positioning that was, but Mina would likely explain it to him if he asked) and Shouto found himself once again reunited with all the Class A girls in Jiro's apartment.

Toru had been the last to arrive, toting along a large bag stuffed full of DVDs she had picked up at a rental shop near the station.

"Sorry I'm late!" She called, pulling out the DVDs and laying them down on the coffee table for everyone to peruse as they filtered in from the kitchen with drinks and snacks. "The station was crazy packed and I had to wait forever for an open car to show up!"

"Oh yeah, they shuffled everyone over from the circle line because of damage from a villain attack during rush hour," Ochako mused, tapping the cover of a romantic comedy excitedly with her finger. "This one, I think. I've wanted to see it for ages and missed it when it was in theaters!"

"That was when we got shipped over to New Zealand for the summer, right?" Tsuyu asked, snagging the DVD with her tongue so she could read the plot synopsis on the back cover. "Hmm. Looks fine to me. The run time isn't too long so I wouldn't be late getting home. What do you think, Shouto?"

Without sparing a glance at the cover, Shouto simply nods his acquiescence. "What we watch doesn't matter to me. I'm just here for the company," he said, ladling up mulled wine into a mug from the pot simmering on the stovetop.

Jiro groaned miserably as she plopped down into an overstuffed armchair. "I tried watching a Rom Com with Denki and he just made farting noises anytime someone's butt was on screen. Shouto just stands in my kitchen and talks about how the best part of watching a movie is my presence and I just- ugh!" Jiro screeches, solidly punching a throw pillow. "It's. Not. Fair! It should be illegal to be so sweet, Shouto!"

Toru paused, a handful of popcorn floating forgotten as she pulled out her phone. "Jiro is right. I have to report this crime on Hero Net. I'm sorry, Shouto. You're going to be a wanted man now," she tsked sadly, typing on her phone one handed.

Shouto furrowed his brow. "I wasn't wanted before? Then what was that "Most Desirable Man" award all about?"

Jiro decided to stop punching the throw pillow and opted for screaming into it instead.

Ochako shook her head, laughing. "Your girlfriend is so lucky, Shouto!"

"You think so? I worry sometimes," he sighed, rounding the back of the couch and taking his traditional spot on the right side of the couch with his warm side facing in for when one of the girls inevitably sought to warm up their chilled feet against him.

"Really?" Tsuyu prodded, sitting down next to Shouto. "What about?"

"Well, she's my first girlfriend. I just worry that maybe I'm not doing all the things she's expecting me to do?"

"Do you go down on her?" Mina asked as she popped the DVD into the player.

"Often," Shouto nodded. "And with gusto."

"Good man," Momo said, patting his shoulder firmly as she passed by on her way back to the kitchen to refill her mug.

"Pft, don't worry then! She's fine," Mina assured him, dropping onto the ground by Ochako's feet.

"Sometimes I wish that I had more experience. Maybe if I had dated someone else before her then I wouldn't be so worried about accidentally ruining everything," Shouto sighed.

“First relationships are definitely rough,” Ochako agreed. “But it’s not like you’re going in alone, we’re all here to give you advice if you need it!”

“Maybe they are,” Tsuyu mused. “But don’t ask for my advice. I’m a disaster in relationships. But I will take you out drinking if you break up though.”

“That’s a horrible offer and I hope I never have to take you up on it.”

Tsuyu shrugged and sipped her wine. “Eh, it’s there if you need it.”

“Ignore her!” Jiro shouted, her face flushing increasingly as her mug emptied.

“Yeah!” Ochako agreed. “Oh! Maybe you’ll get some ideas from watching the movie- like vicarious experience!”

“Do you think that would work?” Shouto asked, critically examining the smiling couple freeze-framed on the DVD menu.

Ochako shrugged. “We won’t know if we don’t try. Momo, hit play!”

By halfway through the movie everyone was well into their cups; laughing too hard at the trite one-liners and swooning every time the main couple made intense, unblinking eye contact with each other.

“When I do that people complain I’m intimidating them,” Shouto grumbled.

“It’s different when you're in love,” Momo sighed.

“Shh!” Mina hissed at them. “The best part is coming up!”

Everyone leaned in towards the screen, rapt with attention, as the couple drew close together, their lips a hair's breadth from touching.

‘Who could have predicted that the accidental fire at your pie factory would lead us here?’ The woman sighed dreamily, staring up into her co-star’s face.

‘It’s funny that it took losing all those desserts for me to discover something even sweeter,’ The man said, running a perfectly manicured hand across her cheek.

“That isn’t funny at all. People could have died in that fire,” Shouto chided.

“Shh!” Mina shushed him again.

‘You think I’m sweet, do you?’ The woman giggled.

‘I do. Why don’t you come over here and give me some of that sugar, Kitten?’

Shouto hadn’t been expecting the high-pitched squeals that the girls let out in cacophonous unison and was quite startled by their vocal response.

“Are you all okay?”

“Yes,” Toru sobbed. “It’s just- the pet names.”

“The…pet names?” Shouto asked, befuddled.

“The names you call people when you’re in love,” Momo explained.

“When used correctly, pet names can trigger deep emotional and physical responses,” Tsuyu clarified.

“Like ‘Kitten’?” Shouto questioned, his voice caressing the new term gently.

Jiro screamed into her misery pillow once again while Mina patted her leg comfortingly.

“Yeah,” Mina sighed. “Just like ‘Kitten’.”

The radio played softly in the background while you ran an impatient finger down your phone screen, desperately scrolling in an attempt to figure out where exactly the unnecessary backstory ended and the recipe actually began. Distracted on two fronts, you didn’t realize you were no longer alone in your apartment until two arms wound themselves around your waist, pulling you backwards and away from the kitchen counter with a firm tug.

“Woah!” you say, startled as your back impacts Shouto’s chest. “Hello, there! I didn’t realize you’d come in! I wasn’t expecting you this early.”

“A few of the girls have to be at work first thing in the morning, so we finished up earlier than we normally do.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. I know it’s hard for you all to coordinate everyone’s schedules.”

Shouto hummed in agreement, dropping his head down into the juncture of your neck, his lips barely hovering above the surface of your skin.

“Speaking of schedules, how’s the rest of your night looking?”

You spare a glance towards the counter where a handful of ingredients for dinner are waiting for you to chop and measure. “Well, I was going to cook dinner, but I haven’t started yet.”

“So, you have some time?” he whispered huskily, pressing his lips gently onto your shoulder.

Giggling, you reach a hand back and thread it through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Maybe I do. You have a specific activity in mind?”

“Nothing in particular,” he said, hand wandering under your shirt to stroke the soft skin of your belly. “Just wanting to spend some time with my girlfriend. Is that okay with you, Kitten?”

“Oh, yes,” you gasp, breath catching at the whispered endearment. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!”

Grinning madly, Shouto swept you up into his arms and carried you down the hallway towards the bedroom.

Sunlight was just beginning to creep in through the cracks between your curtains and the wall when you felt Shouto's lips press gently against your forehead once, twice, three times with a devastating softness that tickled your skin.

"Shou?" You mumbled, using clumsy fists to rub the sleep from your eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

"Mmkay," you agree readily, already snuggling back into your pillow.

"I'll see you later, Duckling," Shouto whispered sweetly, closing the bedroom door behind him with a gentle click.

"...Duckling? Wha' happened to Kitten?" You muse briefly before the creeping fingers of sleep on the edges of your consciousness drag you back into their grasp.

That Saturday you're out shopping at a flea market on the weird side of town when you saw it; an obviously unlicensed Endeavor figure with a hilariously misprinted face. His wobbly oval eyeballs stared off into wildly different directions and his lip color was offset enough that it looked like he was sticking his tongue out in distaste. You snap a picture of it and immediately text it to Shouto, moving to pocket your phone when it begins to ring loudly.

"Hello?" You greet, pressing the phone into your shoulder with your ear as you spin the Endeavor figure around in your hand, snorting when you realize that the body was actually recycled from an All Might figure and painted over with Endeavor's costume colors.

"I don't care how much that figure is. Buy it."

"Aren't you supposed to be patrolling right now?" You laugh, raising a hand to flag down the vendor before fishing around in your purse for your pocket book.

"I'm with Denki right now and he agrees that this is much more important. Hold on-," shuffling filters in from Shouto's end as he moves the phone around. "Denki says to give you his regards and to buy as many of those Endeavor figures as they have."

"Tell Chargebolt I say 'Hello'. And there's just the one figure, I'm afraid."

"Damn. Well, that's okay. It'll make a great gift for Natsuo."

The sudden sound of screeching tires fills your ear and you distantly hear Chargebolt yelling Shouto's name.

"I have to go now, duty calls. I'll talk to you later, Mongoose," Shouto says quickly, ending with a wet smooching sound before he hangs up.

You stare at the screen of your phone dumbly, Shouto's profile image smiling gently at you from his contact page.

"'Mongoose'?" You utter, completely baffled by the nickname as you clutch the dopey Endeavor figure tightly to your chest and wander distractedly to the next market table.

Your coworker sat across from you in the restaurant booth, rolling utensils up into napkins and sealing them with little paper rings while you worked on wiping down a large stack of sticky laminated menus.

"Okay, 'Duckling' was sweet, but I agree that being called 'Mongoose' is a little odd," she agreed, dropping her completed napkin rolls into the plastic bin beside her.

"Right? But those aren't even the weirdest ones! Just in the last week I've been a puffin, an armadillo, a fruit bat, and a chinchilla!"

"Chinchillas are cute," your coworker pointed out, rubbing at a water spot on a spoon with a spare napkin.

"Yeah, I didn't mind that one," you agree, spraying cleaner onto a menu. Your cell phone, stowed safely in the pocket of your apron, buzzed sharply as a new text rolled in. Bypassing your lock screen, you quickly examine the new message before groaning loudly and flipping the phone around for your coworker to see.

'Look, it's you!' The message from Shouto proclaimed right above an attached picture of a droopy-faced blobfish.

"Huh. I think I'm starting to get a little offended on your behalf."

The part-time worker, a somber and unexcitable teenager, was sweeping close to your table and you beckon her over. She pulls out her left earbud as she approaches your table, leaning heavily onto the broom at her side.

"What do you make of this," you ask, holding the phone up in front of her face. "I need a second opinion."

She examined the message carefully before leveling you with a serious stare.

"I think that Todoroki Shouto could call me the meanest, nastiest, names under the sun and I would still write him a thank-you card and take him to meet my Grandma the next day."

You and your coworker pause, considering her words.

"She's right," your coworker nodded, resuming her utensil rolling.

"Oh, yeah." you agreed, responding to the blobfish picture with a shower of emoji hearts. "One-hundred percent. Thanks for your perspective!"

The part time girl nods before stepping back towards her dust pile, pushing her earbud back into place.

"Anytime."

It had been a couple of months since Shouto had been able to make it to Girls Night, having been caught up repeatedly testifying in a long running criminal trial. It was a smaller gathering this time, just him, Mina, Ochako, and Momo crammed around a small Cafe table with flights of coffee lined up in front of them.

Mina sipped from a particularly dark brew, cringing at the bitter notes and quickly pushing it in front of Ochako for her to dispose of. Ochako smiled gleefully, picking up the relinquished mug and adding it to her collection of beverages.

"I'm so glad that you were able to join us tonight, Shouto," Momo said, spooning a helping of sugar into one of her cups of light-roast. "You've been so busy these past few weeks we've barely heard from you at all."

"I know," Shouto sighed. "Work has been crazy and I've been spending all my free time over at Emu's apartment."

Ochako choked on her coffee, coughing wetly as Mina thumped soundly on her back with a flat hand.

"Ah, 'Emu'?" Momo inquired with wide eyes.

"My girlfriend," Shouto replied, picking up the next cup of coffee to try.

"You- you're calling her Emu?" Ochako sputtered, still hacking into her arm.

"It's kinda' cute," Mina said, tapping her cheek thoughtfully. "Unusual, but cute. I mean, it's not like he's calling her Whale or Pig, right?"

The girls all laughed while Shouto shifted uneasily in his chair.

"What's wrong with Whale or Pig?" Shouto asked with a tight voice.

"Well, calling someone a whale implies that you think that they're overweight. And calling someone pig means that you find them disgusting."

Shouto's eyes widened and he made a pitiful whining sound deep in his throat.

"Oh, Shouto! Please tell me you didn't-" Momo begged.

"I did," he groaned miserably, dropping his head down into his hands.

"You can't just call your girlfriend random animals! There's precedent for choosing appropriate pet names!" Mina shouted, aghast at Shouto's unwitting faux pas.

"Well, how was I supposed to know that? I thought you just picked whatever animals you thought were cute!"

"You think whales are cute?" Ochako questioned.

"They have very soulful eyes!" Shouto shouted defensively, pulling out his phone and navigating to the past month's texts, pushing the device into Momo's hands.

"Read through here and tell me how badly I've messed up," Shouto begged.

"I'm sure it isn't that bad," Momo said comfortingly, scrolling down through the chat log and sharply wincing.

"What? What is it?" Mina called out.

"Ah- he called her a Cow. And a Rat."

"A rat, Todoroki? You called your girlfriend a rat?" Mina screeched in disbelief.

"They're actually very intelligent and clean animals!"

"Oh, God," Ochako moaned into her hands, mortified on your behalf.

Shouto whined pitifully and dropped his head onto the table with a loud thunk, barely missing a steaming mug of Arabica blend while the girls patted his arms and cooed comforting assurances as he wallowed.

Pulled from the bathroom by thundering knocks on your apartment door, you peer cautiously through the peephole before undoing the security chain and multiple deadbolts that had been securing your apartment for the night.

"Shouto? What are you doing here?" You ask with concern as you gesture for him to come inside. He was in a state of absolute disarray; his hair messed uncontrollably and panting for breath.

"Here," he wheezed breathlessly, pushing a half-wilted bouquet of hydrangeas and daisies into your arms. "I'm sorry they aren't better. The only place open this late was the convenience store by the laundromat and these were the only flowers they had."

Cradling the sickly bouquet delicately in your arms, you raise a hand to Shouto's face, cradling his cheek gently.

"They're lovely, Shouto. Thank you for thinking of me. But you didn't come by my apartment this late just to give me flowers, did you?"

Shouto clutched your hand to his cheek as he shook his head. "No, I didn't." He took in a deep, shuddering breath as he gazed at you desperately. "It has recently been brought to my attention that I have made a grave error in regards to how I address you."

"How you address- Oh! Is this about all the nicknames you've been giving me?"

He closes his eyes, wincing deeply as he nods. "I didn't realize that some animal names held derogatory connotations. I ran over here as soon as I realized how unintentionally cruel I've been. I couldn't stand the thought of you going a single minute longer thinking that I didn't cherish and appreciate everything about you."

"Oh, Shouto," you laugh. "Thank you for the apology, but I figured all that out pretty early on."

"You did?"

Humming in agreement, you press yourself into Shouto's embrace, resting your head against his sharply jutting clavicle. "You don't have a malicious bone in your body, Todoroki Shouto. It was pretty obvious that you were being sweet. Strange, but definitely sweet."

He sagged against you, awash with relief.

"Thank goodness," he sighed, pressing kisses to the crown of your head as he looped his arms around you. "I was so worried you were going to leave me."

"Please, it will take more than a few mildly insulting animal names to get rid of me."

He snorted into your hair. "I'm sorry I called you a Cow. And a Pig. And a Rat. And a Whale."

"Hey now, whales have very soulful eyes."

"Thank you!" Todoroki exclaimed. "That's what I was trying to tell the girls!"

Giggling, you wrap your arms around his neck and draw him backwards towards the couch.

"Speaking of the girls," he said, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a folded sheet of paper. "They helped me come up with this list of triple vetted, pre-approved, pet names that I can use."

You take the list from his hand, opening it up and scanning the contents before balling it up and tossing it over your shoulder.

"Hey," Shouto protested. "We worked hard on that list!"

"And I appreciate that effort, I truly do. But I don't want my nickname to come from Uraraka or Ashido. I want my name to come from you."

"Yeah?" Shouto beamed, letting you pull him down onto the couch so you were both lying together, him hovering above you while you discarded the bouquet with a gentle toss onto the coffee table.

"Uh-huh. Think about it; there are probably thousands of Kittens and Bunnies in Musutafu. But I'm willing to wager that I'm the only Blobfish."

"You're definitely my only Blobfish," Shouto laughed, pushing your cheeks together so your face was squished and puffy just like your animal namesake.

"Schtooop!" You sputter out from your smushed up fish lips, laughing.

"Not until I've kissed these irresistible Blobfish lips," Shouto said, sucking in his cheeks and making a fish face of his own as he lowered his mouth towards yours, your distorted lips slotting together bizarrely. He pulls back with an exaggeratedly wet smack, finally releasing your face back into your control.

"Oh, that was awful," you lament, swiping at the saliva smeared across your face from your sloppy fish kiss with the hem of your shirt.

"Yeah," Shouto agreed, wiping at his own face with his shirt cuff. "That was really bad. Let's never do that again."

"Agreed."

He pulled you close, running a tender finger down the slope of your nose, tapping the tip playfully. "You're still my beautiful Blobfish though."

"Whatever you say, my wonderful Walrus."

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x you #shouto todoroki x reader #shouto x you #shouto x y/n #mha x reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #pigeoncoos🕊#bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n

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garyroachsanderson · 2 years ago

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Task 141 best friend headcanon, celebrating readers birthday please ??

i’m going to assume it’s your birthday now or soon, so happy birthday you and everyone else who’s birthday it is!!!! 🎉

141 BEST FRIENDS HEADCANONS - BIRTHDAY EDITION

GHOST

i don’t think this man has ever forgotten anything in his entire life, but he’s probably a procrastinator, and he remembers at the worst time.

for example, in the middle of a heated fight after killing the enemy, he’ll see something that reminds him of you and be like “fuck”

quickly runs to a shop once everyone is asleep. he’d probably buy you a necklace, or a plushie or something you love (he doesn’t really understand the hype around plushes, but he knows you like them)

if they’re stationed in america, he’d probably drive to a walmart or something and browse the guns aisle

he wraps the gift very shittily but leaves it on your nightstand for when you wake up

he doesn’t really care about how expensive it is, he’ll probably mumble a ‘mitherin-’ at the price but it just makes him happy to see you happy

if the gift was apparel it makes him very happy to see you wearing it

probably wouldn’t do anything other than that tho he’d maybe brood on the sidelines while the rest get drunk for your birthday

SOAP

does the shopping MONTHS in advance. occasionally you’ll reference something you like and he’s like “fuck i should’ve bought that”

before buying he consulted with the rest of the team on what to buy and just spoke nonstop for 5 minutes until ghost called him a not so nice word

puts time and effort into choosing a wrapping paper that looks like something you’d like and tops it off with a plastic shiny bow

would buy you a real gift but top it off with a terrible gag gift on top. fake vomit ahoy

party planner CEO. even if you’re in the military he’s gonna fucking make sure the current base has streamers on the walls

yes, he packed two MREs that were little cakes with confetti sprinkles in them. why do you ask

overall, he makes the best of a shit situation. would probably both get plastered partying and then he’d haul you to bed

PRICE

“gaz what do people your age like”

he buys you a flip phone (unwrapped) that was made in the ripe year of 2007 (he doesn’t know you have a phone)

it’s the thought that counts

USE IT…

would be very happy when he sees you using it

would treat the force to a night out at a bar (everyone pays for their drinks but you get them on the house)

GAZ

he’d buy something related to something you said you liked 4 months ago

this man is up to date on the internet.. probably buys you a terrible shirt of the current meme or one that died 8 months ago for shits and giggles

knows your favorite bands (he saw your ipod once and noticed your favorite song had 3450 plays) so he bought some merchandise of that band for you

gets stupid drunk and then does stupid shit on your name

“this one’s for y/n” he yelps as he tries to dunk a piece of paper through a basketball hoop but doesn’t get 4 feet off the ground and falls

i’m going to be honest he probably wouldn’t shy away from buying internet currency points

ROACH

TIME and EFFORT

he goes out shopping and buys you decorations for your quarters, new gloves, stickers

would plan a surprise party much to the dismay of everyone else. i mean every party is a surprise party when ghost suddenly appears

he would stick a bunch of candles (the right amount) in a sock we don’t have cake

now of course since you’re in the military a surprise party is perhaps not a great idea. when they turned the lights on and everyone popped up you almost took everyone off the census

you didn’t though! yay

probably the only one who doesn’t get drunk because he’s too young for that

still a cute little birthday

#call of duty modern warfare #cod #call of duty #john price #modern warfare #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #simon riley #gary roach sanderson #soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader

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tuliptired · 6 months ago

Text

Cool Girl, The Kind your Mother Thinks are Trouble (Ch 2/3)

Pairing: Phoebe Spengler/Melody

Of course my computer had to freak out when I started this

I've never wrote the name "Phoebe" as many times as I have just now

read on Ao3 for better formatting!

The firehouse was cold. Gary thought he was doing her a favor by turning up the AC while they ran errands. Phoebe should be mad, she was benched, after all, pretty much tethered to her room. She was benched, and it was absolutely freezing. But she felt warm, the inside of her body sickeningly hot as she sat up from her bed. Fate, as she learned, was waiting on her.

Speak of the devil, the phone was ringing, shrill and high tone bouncing off the walls. How long had it been going? She rushed to answer it, socks sliding on the worn floor.

¨Hey.¨

The warmth she was feeling in her thorax spread across her entire body. Melody.

¨Hello?¨

¨I think we have a ghost. At the diner.¨ There was silence on both sides of the phone.

¨Can you come and save me?”

The phone was slammed down onto the receiver. Phoebe barely breathed as she squeezed her brown boots on, left on the right foot and right on the left foot. She left the front of her suit unzipped, proton pack haphazardly slung across her back. Melody Diner. Where was Melody Diner? It must´ve been somewhere near the park. She ran on autopilot, literally speed walking her away around with a trap in her hand. She didn't really know why she was in such a rush to get there. But she could bust ghosts, with…Melody there. That sounded a little more than nice.

She stopped in front of various buildings briefly, surveying their names. There? No, that's a laundromat. There? No, a Chinese restaurant. Her shoes came screeching to a halt on the sidewalk as she recognized the building. Melody Diner.

The overhead bell chimed as she pushed the door open, gingerly. She never did anything gingerly. ¨Ghostbusters,¨ she called out. ¨You called about…a ghost.¨ Duh.

Phoebe honed in on the jukebox in the corner, letting out a droning hum. As she reached for her gun, someone popped up from behind the counter, arms up above their head. Phoebe flinched backwards, proton pack making contact with the glass door behind her. Melody doubled over on the counter laughing, as she tried her best to catch her breath again.

¨Did I scare you?” Her smile was winsome. She had oddly perfect teeth. Phoebe’s eye twitched subconsciously.

She pushed up her glasses. “Sure.” Melody made her way around to the other side of the counter. That’s what she was wearing that night, a diner uniform, not a dress. “Where’s the ghost?”

“It flew away. My aunt’s on her lunch break. Are you hungry?”

So they sat in a little corner, eating fries made in the deep fryer Melody technically wasn’t allowed to use by herself. Phoebe had a question nagging at her as she could hear Melody’s black boots occasionally knock against the trap now under the table, but she figured she could wait until after the story about the cat family by the dumpster.

“How’d you know where to find me?” She wiped her hands, a hobby picked up whenever she ate.

Melody swallowed. “Your mom was on the news when your…ambulance thing ripped a tree out the ground. You have the same nametag,” she reaches across the table, pointing to the embroidery on her chest.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Phoebe leaned on her arms. She was supposed to be mad about the whole thing. But the feeling behind her words didn’t feel angry, it felt like relief. Like she wanted to talk to someone about this, and it’d be okay.

Melody shrugged. “I think I get it.” Phoebe blinked. No one’s ever really “got it” before, if anything they just made assumptions. But some part of her trusted Melody to get it.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She paused, eyes scanning Phoebe’s face like she was under a microscope. “Do you like doing it? Catching ghosts?”

Phoebe clenched her fists. “It’s what I live for.” Half truth. It was half of what she lived for.

“Then I think…you should keep doing it. Break the rules, if it makes you happy.” She said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. Phoebe puzzled over her easy morality- she knew what she knew was right and what she knew was wrong. Melody made life easy. Digestible.

Phoebe let herself laugh. “That’s all I’ve been doing lately.” As Melody’s grin grew, there was another chime of the front door. She leans out the booth, waving to the woman that must be her aunt. She can’t see Phoebe from where she is, and she somewhat prefers it that, if it’ll save Melody from getting in trouble. A few patrons came in once they noticed the diner was open again, and Phoebe discreetly pulled her upper body free from the flight suit and proton pack, tying the arms around her waist.

Melody eventually had to help her aunt again, reluctantly getting back to work, though making sure she stayed in Phoebe’s line of sight. Their conversation through eye contact made Phoebe appreciate being unseen, just this once. It wasn’t until there was a low rumbling from the kitchen that she used her voice again.

“Is it always that loud?” She questioned, not knowing what “it” was. Melody looked over her shoulder in the middle of wiping the counter, her expression not what Phoebe was hoping for. As she opened her mouth to answer, the sound of a deep freezer toppling over shook the restaurant, and a ghastly entity flew out. In the chaos, a customer managed to get their phone out and dialed a particular phone number.

Callie pushed the front door open, takeout in hand, though there was no time to eat. As she put it back on the receiver, she pushed the alarm button.

“Should we get Phoebe?” Trevor zipped up his flight suit, eyeing the ceiling. Callie shook her head, closing her locker.

The keys to the Ecto were still in her pants pocket, and she sighed as she had to zip down again. “She’s still pretty mad.” Callie fished them out, zipping up again. Her and the two boys piled into the car.

“She can’t just, like, sit in the backseat or something?” Trevor couldn’t help but feel a little bad for his sister. He could imagine how crappy she must be feeling all alone, all day.

Callie raised an eyebrow at that. “Like a dog? She’d hate me even more.” She palmed Gary the keys. “She’ll be fine, Trevor. Thank you for caring.”

Gary started down the streets of New York. “Poor kid. I hope she comes around.” Callie hummed in agreement. Phoebe was, generally, a good kid. A great kid, even. But she just…had a streak of reckless behavior when someone got in her path. She silently hoped to herself that she was in her room, cursing the world like every other angry teenaged girl as the car pulled up to the curb of a little diner.

Gary pushed the door open, and they rushed inside, guns literally blazing, examining the room.

“Ghostbusters,” Trevor started, sneakers slowing down as he noticed the calm atmosphere. Everyone in the room looked at them like they were aliens. “You called about a ghost?” Duh.

Callie looked around, stopping as she noticed Phoebe. Before her instincts made her yell, scold her for leaving home, she noticed a girl about her age sitting next to her, shoulder to shoulder as they both finished milkshakes. The blonde stranger said something, making Phoebe laugh, full and unashamed.

“Phoebe?”

“I already got rid of it,” she just short of rolled her eyes.

“You snuck out? Phoebe- you’re supposed to be-”

“Mom, can you calm down? I came to see my friend.” Her eyes pointed to the girl on her right, who gave Callie a polite wave. Her eyebrows shot up, before she remembered herself, waving back.

“I’m Callie” First name basis?

“Melody.” Callie nodded slowly, turning to Gary, who looked just as astonished as she did.

“Do you need us to take you home later, Phebes?”

“I can walk.”

She walked to the counter slowly, eyes flickering to Phoebe like she was a wild animal. “Trevor, are you hungry?” She pulled some spare cash out of one of her suit’s pockets.

“But we just got-” he was cut off as mom-shoes stepped over his toes, hard. As they sat at the counter, waiting on their food, they spared glances at the two teenagers.

Phoebe looked the best she had since she was officially grounded. She was smiling. A full smile, where both of the wolfish canines she inherited from her grandfather flashed themselves to the world. The line formed from her brows sitting along her eyes had virtually vanished.

“Sorry. About them.” Phoebe’s cheeks burned in the presence of her family as the trio finished and got ready to leave. Melody just ate the cherry out her glass.

“My family’s weirder, I promise,” she licked the ice cream off her thumb.

“Weirder than Trevor? Or Gary?” Phoebe looked at her incredulously.

“Maybe.” She bumped her shoulder against Phoebe’s. There was that warmth again.

“Is she sick?” Trevor speculated, pulling his seatbelt on. Callie smiled approvingly to herself.

“Sure.”

#ghostbusters #phoebe spengler #melody ghostbusters #phoebe spengler/melody #phoebe x melody #phelody #checkmatch #ghostbusters frozen empire #fanfic #ao3 writer #open requests #short series

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catofthecanals289 · 11 months ago

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Little max or mum talk? ❤️❤️

mumtalk --> it's a 17k drabble that might turn into a fic if I rediscover my writing ability. Here is a little excerpt

Maxy,” Daniel says on the other end of the line, tone cautious. He’s been busy packing for his flight later today, but the lack of rustling from his side tells Max he has paused, probably crouching next to his suitcase, pair of socks or something still in hand. “What- What is it that your mum said?”

“She said that we should be respectful,” Max says, chest feeling tight, cheeks hot. “Like we- I don’t know. Of course we are respectful. I do not know what she- She said that it is uncomfortable for him. So we should be considerate and stay in the bedroom. With bedroom things. Like, I think she does not want us to act like a couple. Because Stephen would not like it.”

Daniel is quiet for a moment and Max would worry about the connection having been lost if it weren’t for the occasional exhaled and background rustling. Maybe he is continuing packing. Maybe he has moved to sit on the bed or maybe he’s heading downstairs to figure out what snacks to take that will tide him over till his layover in Dubai. Daniel hates airport food and Max would much rather they could talk about that instead of Max’s mother’s boyfriend probably being an asshole.

“I think,” Daniel starts after a few long, long seconds have passed, “we can do that. Just keeping it lowkey and all that. We weren’t going to go full make out session in front of your family anyway, so.” He laughs a little, tinny through the phone. “I don’t think it’ll be a problem, babe. We’re good at keeping things chill, aren’t we?”

#my writing lorna #i tried lol #stephen is sophie's ficitonal boyfriend

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discount-limeade · 2 years ago

Text

Slipknot: A Review

This is a JOKE. That being Said.....

Conrad's Ratings On How much "Pull Game" The Knot Members Had. (And if they use Spray or Stick Deodorant)

This is 100 Percent Biased. This isn't a News source, welcome to My Hyperfixation.

Pull Game: We're gonna Loosely Define this as, If they could Hypothetically get bitches.

0. Sid Wilson

9/10

Starting Strong, Sid's got it on Lock. Docking One Point Because The Hyperfixations can Be DETRIMENTAL to getting bitches and Some people might not think Transformers are Cool.

Spray: Old Spice

1. Joey Jordison

8/10

Joey was For SURE getting Hoes in the Book. No questions. But this Specific picture (because I chose it), What in the 'Just Crawled out from under the Sink' is he doing.

-1 For Posture, tighten up man. Your neck is about to be at a Permanent Right angle. -1 for, idk I feel like he'd Say some strange shit.

Stick: He puts it on by going through the bottom of his shirt.

2. Paul Gray

7/10

Personally, LARGE fan of Paul. But we gotta think about this Logically alright. It's 2000, you're approached by this Man, he offers you a Cigarette. You take it OBVIOUSLY, he's just a being Nice.

-1 for possible Off puttingness. -1 Approachability (??). -1 When he lets you hit the bong he tells you it's not that bad and you end up coughing your eye out.

Stick: He looks like he has a Cool Sock Collection.

3. Chris Fehn

9/10

In our Hearts we all Know this man was a Ten. The eyebrows on His Mask Here are Very Good, which May Cancel out this lost Point.

-1 For Public Masturbation.

Stick: There's a Bite Missing

4. James Root

7/10

Now, if this was Blonde Jim, 10. I'd Find no reason to criticize, but it's not and this One picture will dictate his Entire Rating.

-1 Gay. Self Explanatory. -1 touched his balls and Wiped his hand on your neck. -1 pissed and didn't wash hands.

Does NOT wear deodorant and if he does it's that Paste organic kind.

5. 133

6/10

Once Again We All know he's Ten. Love a Strong Silent Guy. You know how this goes though, the picture selected Has Sealed his Fate.

-1 for, is this a school photo??. Update your portfolio. -1 I don't have my shots and those definitely have something. -1 he looks like a Train Guy. -1 beer cooler says 'for the boys'.

Stick. Looks like he tried to finger it.

6. Clown

5/10

Yo look how Whimsical he is. We got Elderman Shawn here. Physically, jumping this man's bones. Personality wise, he makes me MAD AS FUCK.

-1 if you pulled his hair it would come out in CLUMPS. -1 smells like fish. -1 definitely has a Foot Fetish. But I'm not talking NORMAL foot fetish I mean this man wants to put HIS feet on YOU. -1 says 'Honk Honk' when he grabs your Tits. Fucking YIKES. -1 keeps Muttering to Himself about The Circus, You should probably go...

Stick? It's Somewhere amongst his Things.

7. Mick Thomson

10/10

Any Day of the Week. He's just Got everything Going Right. Possible only downfall would be How strange his Wrist is Bent up in this pic but I will not Dock him for that.

Stick. He gets the Twin Packs to Share With Crew.

8. Corey Taylor

4/10.

Before you Say it, Yes, I would. But this isn't about That. This is about the fact that He gets NO BITCHES. And I'm not Talking about the Occasional, I mean this guy has never doesn't even know what Sex IS.

-2 he's COMING UP THE STAIRS FROM HIS DWELLING. -1 eats His own Ear wax. -1 how do you have lice and you only have Maybe 13 Pieces of Hair. -1 there Are Juice Stains around his mouth. -1 ate a mouse.

Spray. He likes to Stab The Cans So they Explode.

-----

In conclusion, I started Writing this at 4 am. It is now almost Seven. Have a Wonderful rest of your day.

#slipknot #sid wilson #joey jordison #paul gray #jim root #craig jones #shawn clown crahan #shawn crahan #mick thomson #corey taylor #review #rizzknot #yo that's ugly as FUCK #prophecy

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desertfangs · 1 year ago

Note

Daniel/Lestat '"I'm not going to do it again, this isn't a peep show."

This one is long and a little melancholy. I think I'm in a mood, ha! But I hope you enjoy it even though it didn't get smutty (I was trying to go there but I keep getting derailed.)

“I’m not going to do it again, this isn’t a peep show,” Daniel said, tugging his sweatshirt down over the waistband of his jeans.

“No?” Lestat leaned against the shelf below. Daniel glared from the ladder. He was trying to find the box they’d come for here in the archives of the Night Island cellar, and Lestat kept making lewd comments when his sweatshirt rode up and revealed his midsection.

“We didn’t come all the way to Florida so you could stare at my stomach.”

“Perhaps not, but there’s no sense in not enjoying the view.” Lestat smirked.

Daniel rolled his eyes, ignoring the flush that ran up his neck. “Do you want to see it or not?”

“And if I say no? That I’ve changed my mind? Then what?”

“Then you can get off of my island,” Daniel said, moving the ladder to the next shelf over.

Lestat dramatically clutched his heart, as if shocked by his harshness, and Daniel smiled.

He climbed up the ladder and found most of these boxes were labeled 83 and 84. That was the right time period, at least. He pulled one down and opened it. It was full of papers. Bills, mostly, long paid, with no reason to keep them. He dug through it vaguely out of curiosity but there wasn’t anything worth holding onto that he could see. He took the sharpie out of his pocket and wrote “Old Mail” on the side of the box.

Armand was a pack-rat of the highest order, and he’d been worse in the early 80s, keeping everything no matter how unnecessary. One of these days, Daniel was going to drag Armand down here and get him to go through this place and throw out the junk.

“You’d be better off doing it alone,” Lestat said. He was studying his fingernails, his rings glinting on his pale fingers. “He won’t miss what you toss.”

“That’s probably true.” Still, Daniel worried about throwing the wrong thing out and it coming back to bite him in a hundred years. Though what use Armand might possibly have for thirty-year-old utility bills was beyond him.

The next box was clothes. Old, ratty socks and underwear of Daniel’s, ones Armand had thrown out because they’d become too full of holes to be worth wearing. Or rather, Daniel had thought he’d thrown them out. Apparently he’d boxed them up and shoved them on a shelf down here in the storage rooms of the cellar.

Daniel saw Lestat watching him in his periphery. He closed the box and slid it back into place. The next one was more junk: matchbooks pilfered from bars, random keys to god only knew what, spare buttons, a few coins, a pair of sunglasses with one of the lenses missing, and a pack of Big Red gum that would probably crumble to dust if opened. Junk drawer stuff, as if Armand had dumped the contents of the junk drawer of their last house into a box when they’ve moved into the Villa. Which, now that Daniel looked at it, he clearly had.

“You know, I find it’s easier to remove the garbage from Louis’ collections bit by bit,” Lestat mused.

Daniel glanced down at him. “How often does he notice something’s missing?”

Lestat folded his arms over his chest. “More often than I’d like. He’s meticulous about his trash.”

Daniel laughed. “Or maybe you guys have different definitions of what should be held onto.” Daniel looked into the box one more time, detritus from a lifetime ago, and closed it up. So it went, Daniel trying to notate the contents of each box to make a future clean out easier as he opened them and put them back. Lestat watched, not bothering to help—“You know your maker’s organizational system best”—and occasionally making a comment about Daniel’s ass as he climbed the ladder.

Finally, two shelves down, Daniel found the box. He was suddenly glad for Armand’s almost obsessive need to keep things. “Got it.” He climbed back down the ladder, box under his arm, and left the ladder where he’d set it up. “Come on.”

Lestat followed him up out of the cellar and into the parlor. Daniel opened the French doors that lead to a veranda with a view of the ocean to let in some air and then took the box over to the coffee table.

Lestat bounded over with the enthusiasm of a puppy, eager and impatient. Daniel opened the box. He pulled out a stack of t-shirts and tossed one at Lestat’s head. Lestat laughed in surprise. It was tie-die, blue, purple and green. The stack had various experiments with colors, all mixed together in funky patterns.

Lestat unfolded the shirt and held it up his chest, over the plain blue shirt he wore beneath his leather jacket. “What do you think?”

“It suits you,” Daniel said. He lifted stack of Polaroid photos from the box. Armand, his auburn hair short, wearing the very shirt Lestat was holding. He looked so blank as he stared at the camera. He did that sometimes when Daniel took photos of him, froze into this neutral statue of a thing. Lestat came and sat beside Daniel, the shirt in his lap.

Danie flipped through the photos. Armand in a shirt that had not come out as well and was mostly blotches of color. Daniel in one of the shirts smiling awkwardly. Daniel with his back to the camera, standing on the veranda, a cigarette in his hand, wearing the orange-and-red tie-die shirt.

Lestat took the one photo where Armand was laughing, Daniel having managed to catch him at the right moment, still in the blue-purple-green shirt, dye standing his pale white fingers as he held them up and laughed.

Daniel’s heart squeezed. Those were the photos Daniel loved, the ones where Armand was natural and himself, how he’d been so much of the time.

“I suppose I owe you ten dollars,” Lestat said.

They’d been watching some TV special about the 70s and the tie-dye trend, and Daniel had bet that there were photos of Armand in a tie-dye shirt. Lestat hadn’t believed it.

“This was 83,” Daniel said. “Armand found the tie-dye kit somewhere, I don’t even remember. I only remember we spent like half the week making shirts.”

He dug into the box, pulling out even more shirts, some better than others, all arrays of colors and designs. They’d had to knot up the t-shirts in different ways to get different patterns on them. It had been a meticulous process.

At the bottom of the box was a VHS tape. Daniel frowned. On the side it was labeled “Tie-dye, 83.” Daniel vaguely remembered Armand filming with his camcorder but he did that all the time back then, filming random bits and pieces of their lives.

Lestat snatched the tape and examined it “Is this some display of your passions inflamed by tie-dye?”

Daniel snorted. “Yeah, totally, a tie-dye sex tape.” Although Daniel couldn’t remember what was on it. Sometimes there were little snippets of intimacy in their home videos. Most of them were unedited, just snippets of things Armand decided to film.

“Well if there’s video evidence of him wearing these hideous clothes, that’s worth quite a bit more than ten dollars.” Lestat grinned at him.

Daniel rolled his eyes. “He’s going to murder me,” he muttered. “Come on, I think there’s still a VCR in the den.”

The den was on the second floor, a smaller room as far as rooms in the Villa went, but sure enough, it still had a VCR and an old television. Everything in the room was covered in plastic and Daniel removed it before sliding the tape into the player. He and Lestat settled on the couch. Daniel hit play.

On the tape, they were on the veranda downstairs, the doors open. They had big plastic tubs arranged outside for making the shirts in and Daniel was squirting dye into one of them. Daniel watched as on the video, he dropped a t-shirt into the tub and swirled it around in the dyed water. His hand came up stained orange and pink. The tape cut and it was Armand fishing wet, freshly dyed shirts from the tubs. Then another shot of Armand wearing the shirts, telling Daniel to hold the camera steady. Daniel laughing from behind the lens.

Another cut. Daniel was frowning at the camera, smoking a cigarette. He wore the orange and yellow tie dye shirt, his blond hair messy, circles beneath his eyes visible even under his glasses. “Put on the the purple one,” Armand said from behind the camera. “It matches your eyes.”

Danie glared at the camera. “Let me finish my cigarette.”

“I’ll hold your cigarette,” Armand offered. The camera moved closer.

��“Jesus Christ, Armand, we’ve been doing this for three days, can you just give it a rest?” His tone was harsh, his words slightly slurred. The tape was grainy but Daniel could see how his hand was shaking and the exhaustion on his own face.

“Of course,” came Armand’s reply, his voiceless toneless in a way that indicated he was hurt.

On the couch, Daniel winced. But on the tape, it only irritated past Daniel further.

“You know, it’s easy enough for you to waste a week with this crap, but how many weeks do I have left? You fill our nights with this nonsense like I’m going to forget that my life is slipping out from under me and every day I get older and closer to death.”

Heavy sigh. “Don’t be dramatic, Daniel. You’re still young.”

“For now.” Daniel flicked his cigarette into one of the dye tubs and stormed past the camera, which lingered for a second on the empty space where Daniel had been before turning off.

Daniel’s stomach roiled. Lestat reached over and squeezed his hand, warm and reassuring. Daniel’s throat felt tight. “Sorry you had to see that.”

Lestat scooted closer, putting his arm around Daniel’s shoulders. “C’est rien. I’m grateful none of my fights with Louis are on film. I don’t think I’d enjoy that either.”

Daniel sucked in a shuddering breath. “We fought a lot back then. I was at my wit’s end, haunted by the specter of aging and death, and he was so damned determined that things could just keep going how they were.” Daniel shook his head. He didn’t even remember this particular fight but there had been so many like it that all blurred together, Daniel desperate to make Armand see that he should turn him or at the very least, that he was in pain, while Armand tried to pretend there wasn’t a problem. “God, I was such an asshole.”

Lestat laughed. Daniel looked at him, surprised.

“Danny, my boy, you were in a hard situation and faced with the little imp’s stubbornness. You handled it better than most.”

Daniel sighed. “Yeah, maybe. I just wish…” He shook his head. He wished he’d done a lot of things differently.

“We all have regrets,” Lestat said, his voice low and soft, as if thinking of a few of his own. “The key is not to dwell them on. And look, here you are! And now we have photographic evidence of Armand in the most hideous t-shirts known to man.”

Daniel laughed at that. Lestat smoothed his hair and kissed his temple before standing. “Come, let’s get back to New York. I want to lord those photographs over Armand’s head.”

Daniel smiled and stood. “Oh yeah, he’s definitely going to kill me.”

#this is so long and i'm sure i missed like 5 typos but anyhow i hope people like it #i love lestat actually being genuine with daniel when he's sad okay #lestat/daniel #lestat de lioncourt #daniel molloy #vc fanfic #my fic #night island #the night island #post-canon shenanigans #vc #vampire chronicles #first sentence game #this is like 2000 words i have absolutely failed at keeping it short lol #10 points if you know why Armand kept everything btw

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olympain · 1 year ago

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A strange, strange morning at the Taskmaster NZ house Stewart Sowman-Lund gains access to the north Auckland mansion where the TVNZ comedy gameshow is filmed and uncovers the secrets the cameras don’t see.

After four years, the Taskmaster house is a cast member in its own right. The mysterious and ever-evolving setting for the TVNZ comedy show is ostensibly just a house north of Auckland. But for fans of Taskmaster, it’s a memorial to the show itself. Hey look, there are the rafters that David Correos climbed into, in what was probably a health and safety breach. There’s the bar where Leigh Hart attempted to use a leaf blower to make a cocktail. And I think that’s where Urzila Carlson drank a lot of scotch while playing hopscotch?

Returning tonight, season four of Taskmaster NZ sees five new famous faces vying to win a gold bust of Jeremy Wells’ head: Dai Henwood, Mel Bracewell, Ray O’Leary, Karen O’Leary and Sieni Leo’o Olo (aka Bubbah). You’d probably expect that after three seasons, the incoming cast of comedians would be well-versed on how Taskmaster works. But as I found out on a visit to the Taskmaster set back in March, that might not be the case.

It’s a few weeks after Cyclone Gabrielle when I pull up outside the Taskmaster house and am greeted by Paul Williams. In the world of the show, Williams is the Taskmaster’s assistant, a meek and slightly awkward character whose entire purpose is to do whatever it is the Taskmaster, Jeremy Wells, demands. Largely, that means guiding the contestants through the absurd challenges they find written in wax-sealed envelopes. “They all really like me,” Williams says sarcastically of his relationship with the contestants. “I don’t annoy them at all.” (Karen O’Leary later describes Williams to me as “a bit of a dick”, though reluctantly admits that he could be helpful during some tasks.).

In real life, Williams doesn’t seem that far removed from the character he plays on the show, leading me to question whether he’s still in character while showing me around the Taskmaster house. We start our tour upstairs in the study, this season made over with dark green paint and jungle-like vines hanging from the rafters. Behind the desk hangs a Rene Magritte-esque painting of Jeremy Wells with a long bird’s beak.

The bookshelves have also been packed with an assortment of loosely-themed objects, including a cheetah, a pair of binoculars and a globe. Books about travel and exploration are stacked up too. To the side of the study, just out of shot from the cameras, Williams points out a curtain that conceals an assortment of extra props, like a spare print of the Wells bird painting made “in case the comedians damage the one on the wall”. Given this is Taskmaster, you really do need to prepare for everything.

The study leads through to a small bedroom that Williams, with the awkwardness of a teenage boy apologising for not cleaning up, admits is his. Occasionally he sleeps over in the Taskmaster house so as to avoid an early morning commute to set. Piled up in a drawer next to the bed are artefacts from previous Taskmaster seasons that should really be collected and donated to some sort of Taskmaster museum. The pile includes draft lyrics from a Guy Montgomery musical task in season two and a piece of paper with some frantic scrawling that could only belong to David Correos.

Downstairs, we stop at a washing machine. I’m not sure it’s meant to be part of the tour until Williams grabs out a solitary pair of sodden black socks, which he proceeds to carry around with him until remembering they need to dry.

We head out towards the dock, a small wharf that overlooks a swampy green pond, and the setting for a number of water-based tasks. It’s a surprising distance from the main house and along the way, Williams points out several iconic locations from the show. There’s a life-sized lion sculpture, replacing the cow featured in previous seasons (“the cow’s on loan, I think,” says Williams). We pop into the shed and see the fish poster made internationally famous by Rose Matafeo on Taskmaster UK stuck to the inside of the door. There’s the bathtub used for the infuriating final task of season three: “Relocate the water in this bath to that bath”. We pass through the “enchanted forest” and I’m uncomfortably reminded of Paul Ego’s sex witch.

All the while, Williams is carrying his all-important iPad (and the socks) which reminds me of a question I’ve always had for the Taskmaster assistant, one that has perplexed Reddit for years. “Can you tell me once and for all if the iPad actually controls anything, or if it’s just a prop?” I ask Williams, who looks at me coyly: “I cannot disclose the secrets of the iPad.”

Later, after Williams has been called back for some filming, I’m standing in a gazebo on the back lawn about to watch a team task involving Dai Henwood, Karen O’Leary and Bubbah. They’ve been instructed to weave their way, blindfolded, through a maze. I’m told the task should only take about 10 minutes, but nearly an hour later we’re still standing there watching the trio of comics flounder as they try to complete it. There’s talk of breaking early for lunch, but the contestants are determined to finish the task no matter how long it takes. A crew member tells me that quite often the team tasks don’t make it to air, but this one definitely will. Why? Because “the other team [Mel Bracewell and Ray O’Leary] did it on their first go”.

It’s part of the joy of Taskmaster that being really bad at a task is often as impressive as being really good at it. For Wells as Taskmaster, that means his job is often determining whether to give points to the best contestant – or the funniest. Bubbah tells me she’d never even heard of the show before being cast, let alone how it works, and that means her performance in the season hasn’t been tampered by any thought of actually winning points. “It was like halfway in when Paul was like ‘what do you think the Taskmaster’s gonna say’? I was like ‘Who the fuck is the Taskmaster’?” she says. “Obviously I have not been thinking about how he’s going to react.”

Henwood also went in largely blind, though at least he actually knew what the show was. He was originally set to appear in season one of Taskmaster NZ, but ultimately had to wait another three years before being cast. “I went ‘I don’t want to watch it’ because I didn’t want to be influenced’. I purposefully kept myself in the dark and now I’m going to binge watch the old ones and go ‘I should have prepped for this’,” he laughs. Karen O’Leary was perhaps the most prepared – but she was hardly a diehard Taskmaster fan. She’d watched snippets from previous seasons and admits to trying to appeal to Wells’s ego in her performance. “I think he’s someone who is quite pedantic… My aim is to try and find my own exception to what the tasks are by mucking with how they have been worded,” she says. “I’m sure Jeremy will understand, but time will tell.”

#taskmaster nz #taskmaster #paul williams #jeremy wells #mel bracewell #ray o'leary #dai henwood #karen o'leary #bubbah #guy montgomery #david correos

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