#Yeah if you read all this—sorry to be a bum about it but I needed a way to rant out these feelings

[cameronspecial]

Hey could you do one where rafe x reader have sex for the first time. Virgin!reader. SMUT!!

In the morning she wakes up and can’t move her body because she is so sore. 🥰 “I can’t get up”

He carries her to the bath they have together.

Do You Want Those Things?

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: HARD SMUT and Name Calling During Sex

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.6K

Masterlist

Y/N wasn’t planning on losing her virginity today, but it all happened so fast. Rafe always thought his girlfriend was innocent when it came to sex. It didn’t bother him. He knows she isn’t waiting for marriage, just the right person. He respects her choice and doesn’t push her, letting her come to him if she ever feels ready. The boy didn’t think his girlfriend was interested in anything sexual; she reads most of the time for heaven's sake. All her thoughts must be so pure. Right now, she rests between his legs, back pressed against his chest. Her focus is on her book while he just listens to the sound of the music. When her legs first move, Rafe thinks nothing of it. She must be trying to get comfortable. Yet the second time she readjusts her legs, he notices how the movement is actually about creating some pressure between her legs. This surprises him. She’s never gotten this worked up with him around and he wants to know what is getting his innocent girlfriend so wet. He concludes it must be what she is reading, so he looks at the page and reads the words on the paper.

His eyes widen at the practically pornographic words. He never would’ve suspected that this is what his girlfriend likes to read and it’s driving him crazy that he isn’t the one bringing arousal to his girl. He doesn’t want to push her to do something she isn’t prepared for, but he needs to be the one to make her pussy wet. “Do you want those things done to you, Princess?” he whispers in her ear. Y/N freezes in his hold, uncrossing her legs and looking up at him with doe eyes. She knows she has been caught and honestly, she considers taking up his offer.

They love each other. She knows it. He knows it. She trusts him, so what is stopping her from feeling the pleasure she craves to read about? She closes her book and flips herself in his hold. Her chest presses against his and she can feel his hardening length pressing against the area just above her vagina. Her need for a release increases at the feeling. She nods a little, “Yeah. Rafe, I want you to make me feel good.” Rafe grins down at her, resting his hands in the dip of her back, just above her bum. “Is that right? Do you want me to be nice and sweet with you? Or do you want me to bring your fantasy to life and fuck you as he does to her?” he questions. She knows it is her first time, but she desires to recreate the impurities written in her book. “Fuck me like the little whore I am.” Rafe couldn’t possibly get harder at her words. Before he gives in, he needs to make sure she knows this isn’t a locked-in commitment, “Okay, Princess. I need you to know though, that if you ever want me to be gentle instead, you say yellow and if you want to stop at any point, you say red. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Rafe. Now, please, make me feel good,” she pleads with want dripping from her voice. A dark glean crosses over his eyes and he flips them over so he is on top of her. All she is wearing is his shirt, so her hardened nipples are peeking through the thin material. He needs to feel the skin of her breast against his bare skin. His hands meet at the neckline of the already fraying shirt and she gasps as he rips the shirt apart. She feels an ache between her legs at what just happened. His lips meet her right nipple. His fingers play with the other. Her head throws back at the feeling of his warm tongue circling her bud. Her hair threads through his hair, “Please, Rafe. I need you in me.” 

He removes himself from her skin with a shake of the head. “I’m sorry, Princess. Not yet. I need to make sure you are nice and ready for me and then I can fuck you like the little slut you want to be,” he promises to her, moving down her body. His eyes land on her lacy pink underwear. The pretty little bow at the top makes it feel like it’s the wrapping of a gift for him. He tears her underwear off of her body and throws it into the trash. She won’t be needing those again. He sits up and brings his fingers to her mouth. He forces his index and middle finger into her mouth, using her own saliva to get his fingers ready to penetrate her vagina. His big fingers shove to the back of her throat and she gags a little at the feeling. “You wanted to be treated like a whore. This is what they get,” he growls into her ear. After a few seconds, he pulls his fingers out of her mouth with a string of saliva connecting the two still. He brings his hand down between her legs and shoves them into her hole. Not checking to see if she is wet enough to handle two fingers yet. Fingers aren’t a foreign feeling to her, but his are definitely different from hers. Y/N knows Rafe thinks she has never done anything remotely sexual. He is wrong though. She wasn’t immune to her own sexual desires and had masturbated many times before.

This is a new feeling though. She is being shown a new side of intimacy when it comes to fingering, even though his movements are fast and rough. The first moan she lets out is when he curls his fingers to meet her G-spot. Rafe’s teeth nip at her ear, “Those beautiful sounds are all mine. No other man is going to get to hear you like this, Princess. I’m going to be your first and last. You got that?” “Yes, Rafe. I’m about to cum,” she cries out. His movements stop, causing her to complain. “My slut cums on my cock when I tell her. If you don’t, then you get punished.” He pulls away from her, ordering her to take off the ripped shirt while he gets up to take his clothes off. He is left in his boxers. His dick straining to be released and touched by his girl. 

He points down to his crotch, “Come here and show me what you can do with that mouth of yours, Princess. Show me how much you want me.” She doesn’t know what she is doing, but she scrambles onto her knees in front of him. Her hands eagerly tug at the waistband of his pants. His cock slaps up against his stomach and she stares at it with a little worry. How was all of that going to fit inside of her? From what she’s read, she knows she needs something to lessen the friction, so she spits in her hands and wraps them around his shaft. She starts moving her hand slowly up and down. “Like this?” she seeks his approval and he nods with his head falling back. He ruts into her hands and she figures he needs her to go faster. She speeds up her movement, but he takes her hands off of him. He takes his cock in one hand and moves it to her mouth, pushing it past her slightly opened lips. He doesn’t ease into her mouth; instead, he thrusts until she can feel him hit the back of her throat. She knows she needs air, yet all she wants to do is make him feel good. 

She lets him thrust into her mouth, drool forming at the corner of her lips and her eyes pooling with tears. “Look at you taking me like a good girl. You feel so good,” he praises. He continues his thrusts until he feels his release is imminent. He pulls her head off of him even though her lips itch to stay wrapped around him. “Tsk, tsk. I know you want more, Princess. But the only place that gets my cum is that sweet pussy of yours. It’s what he does to her in the book, isn’t it?” She manages a small nod as she pants for air. “Then that’s what my princess deserves. I’m gonna show you how much better I am than him.”

He pulls her to stand up and pushes her onto the bed on all fours. His hands rub the skin of her smooth, round ass and he can’t help but give it a harsh slap. This causes her to flinch forward in surprise with a moan. “You like that? My little whore likes to be spanked,” he laughs, giving her another hit on the butt. He keeps spanking her until a red print in the shape of his hand blooms across her skin. At the last slap, his hand rests on her butt cheek, giving it a squeeze as his other hand lines himself up with her hole. She can feel the tip being teased against her and she tries to force herself onto her boyfriend’s length. Rafe lets out a low chuckle, “Damn, my princess is desperate to feel me.” With that, he slams into her at full force. The stretch she feels from him being inside her hurts and feels uncomfortable, but he doesn’t give her time to adjust. He does as he promised her and thrusts into her as hard as he can. He pulls back so his tip is the only thing left inside, snapping his hips back against her ass in an instant. At this pace, she can’t keep staying up on her hands and drops down to her elbows. This causes a delicious arch in her back, which provokes Rafe to place his hands on her hips to bring her down on him harder. The pain starts to ebb and pleasure creeps in between her legs. This is when her quiet whimperings start to turn into screams of pleasure. “God, Rafe. This feels so good. Keep going,” she yells, feeling confident enough to start meeting his movement without any help.

“Yeah? Am I making you feel that good? Look at you, my sweet little virgin acting like a freak on my dick. Is that how good I am? I’ve corrupted you?” he questions with an edge of arousal to his voice. “Only sluts like to be fucked without any emotions. Without facing each other.” Y/N wants to reply but can’t seem to find anything else that wants to fall off of her lips except for her breathy moans. The building pressure in her lower stomach has returned and she is focused on chasing that feeling to her release. “Aww, is my princess speechless? How does it feel to be cock drunk for the first time?” he teases with a slap to her ass. He can feel his climax is nearing and he wants to bring her to the edge at the same time. Normally, his stamina is way better, but the newfound intimacy he gets to have with the woman he loves and the previous ruined orgasm shorten his abilities. 

He needs more skin contact with her, so he brings his arm under her armpit to bring her back up to his chest. His hand goes up to her opposite shoulder to lock her against him. He can feel her tightening around him. “Is my little whore going to cum? That’s it. Keep getting tighter around me so that I can show you how good you are making me feel,” he demands. She can only groan at his remark. His hips stutter as his semen comes out of him and flows into her. He places his head in her neck, so he can give her soft kisses. He slows down as he lets them come down from their high and collapses on top of her. He rests on his elbows so his full weight isn’t on her. He slips his dick out of her with both of their fluids following. She turns in his arms with a sleepy look in her eyes and cuddles into his neck. He wants to get up to get her to the bathroom, but sleep takes them before he can 

———

Y/N awakes to a different type of ache between her legs. One that makes her question if she’ll be able to stand or even walk. She wants to stay in bed with Rafe; however, her bladder is calling for the bathroom. Plus, the dried-up cum in between her legs is in great need of being washed off her skin. She doesn’t want to wake Rafe because he looks so peaceful, so she tries to get up by herself. She makes it a few steps toward his bathroom, looking like a spinning top about to collapse, when she falls to the ground with a thud. Rafe immediately bolts up and looks toward the source of the sound. He sees his girlfriend on the ground and concerns flood him. “I can’t get up,” she complains, reaching for his help. He scrambles out of bed and scoops her into his arms, trying his best not to keep how turned on he is by the sigh of a slight bruise forming on her hips and bum. He doesn’t want her to feel obligated to help relieve him of the growing tension in his stomach now that their sexual relationship has begun. 

She softly asks him to set her down on the toilet and he does so once they get to his bathroom. He lets her take care of her business while he gets a bath drawn for them. She finishes up and waits for Rafe to take her to the sink to wash her hands. This is all down in comfortable silence. They can clearly see how tired the other person is from last night. Rafe has a million questions running through his head, except he knows they need to wait. He gets the bath bombs and bubble solution from under his sink and drops both into the tub. They watch as the warm water slowly fills up the tub. The water reaches up almost to the brim when he stops it. His hand pushes past the bubbles to check the temperature of the water. It’s perfect. Hot and on the verge of turning warm after a few minutes. He picks her up and sets her into the tub. She does her best to sit forward as she observes him getting in behind her. The water spills over the edge but neither of them cares. The towel on the floor can handle that. He brings her to rest against his chest. 

“I didn’t go too hard on you last night, did I? You didn’t use either of the safe words but I should’ve double-checked while I was doing it,” he starts to worry. “It was your first time. I should’ve gone slower and been more gentle. I’m sorry, Princess. I just wanted to give you what you wanted.” He can feel her head shake against his chest, “I’m okay, Rafe. Don’t worry. It hurt a little bit at first, but I did say I wanted it to. You made me feel so good. Thank you for being so amazing last night.” His fingers laces with hers. “You’re welcome, Princess. All I want is to serve you.” They sit in the tub for an hour, just spending the intimate moment together and taking care of each other’s needs. Y/N couldn’t have asked for a better first time with the man she loves. 

Taglist: @loves0phelia

#let me angel #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron series #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron smut #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe imagine #rafe smut #rafe fic #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe #outer banks rafe #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #outerbanks #obx #obx x reader #obx fic #obx imagine #obx fanfic #obx fanfiction

[mimisplayground]

Jealous Jealous Jealous Boy ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

Tags: Hookups, Jealous Toji, Rough Sex, Dumbification, all fully consented!!, Orgasm denial briefly, dacryphilia, Mean Toji

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

Toji Fushiguro was a lot of things.

A womanizer.

A sleaze.

A bum.

And most importantly to you, a great fuck.

Which was really all you cared about, if you had to think about it. When he was behind you, and his pace was downright cruel, you found yourself caring very little about the rest of the things that Toji was.

Because out of the two men you kept on speed dial for a quick hook up, Toji was certainly the one you frequented most. His thrusts bordered onto brutal and the huffs and groans he made when you two were fucking like dogs in heat, it was nothing short of pure bliss in your opinion.

And there was rarely any real talking involved. Small words exchanged before he would demolish you and then leave. The other hook up was better at talking. But you really shouldn’t be thinking about that guy. Speak of the devil and all of that.

Though, you had a feeling the real devil was the man behind you, when you caught a glimpse of the frown on his face as he stared at your now ringing phone. And yeah, maybe “Quick Hookup #2” wasnt the most discreet name, but how were you supposed to know you would have to be discreet on your own phone? The glare Toji had was deadly, and his thrusts had completely stopped.

A silence overtook the room at that point, the phone finally finished ringing before a ding spiked through the silence. You hear Toji hum to himself, reading off the text in his head before his voice, with a cruel tone to it, read it out loud. “Had fun last night babe, wanna link again tonight…” he finished off like it was just something in the news.

You quickly go to crawl away, caught off guard by the hand that pushes you down, and stayed firm on your back. “Why you runnin’ away, babe?” His voice downright murderous and you could only let out what could be described as a squeak in response.

When your silence rang out, Toji laughed. An insincere, mean, and angry laugh. And when his hips snapped forward and you let out a harsh wail at the unexpected movement, the laugh turned to more of a growl.

“Now you wanna make a noise,” He huffs, your phone abandoned and both hands gripping your hips harshly “now that I’m fucking you the way you needed, ain’t that right slut?” His words are cruel and his thrusts are even crueler. Your moans and sobs are echoing through the room, barely able to get louder than the slapping of skin.

The room smelled of sex and sweat and you couldn’t possibly think straight, nothing could fix the almost broken babble streaming out of your mouth. Small and pitiful pleas of “sorry” “didn’t mean it” “gonna cum” and indecipherable babble between it. A tiny please peaking through some of the rambling if you listened hard enough.

“Oh you’re sorry? Sorry but you’re still begging for this dick, fucking whore.” He grunts out, his grip getting tight enough that you could expect bruises there in the morning. And right as you were at the peak, teetering that edge, he stopped.

You let out a broken sob, pleading for him to continue before your phone was held in front of your face, with “Quick Hookup #2” pulled up on your phone in your contacts. “Block ‘em. Or I’ll quit fucking you right now.” Toji said firmly, letting your hands grasp the phone and fumble with it, dropping it once or twice before finally managing to click the block button.

When your phone was pulled from your hands, you let out a sigh of relief as the thrusts picked up again. “If I ever find out you go fucking someone else again, I’ll kill them and fuck you so hard you’ll forget your own name.” He huffed, and then the brutal thrusts started again, and his skin slapped against yours. And even as you reached your peak this time, he didn’t stop.

He fucked you through your first orgasm and sent you hurdling straight towards a second one, dismissing your twitches to get away in favor of your pleads for more coming from your mouth.

And that night you learned something else about Toji Fushiguro that you never knew before.

He was an extremely jealous man.

——————-

I HOPE YOU ALL LOVED IT!! DIFFERENT FROM WHAT IVE WRITTEN BUT STILL!! HOPE IT WAS AMAZING!! TELL ME IF U WANT MORE!!

#jjk #toji fushiguro #toji smut #toji x reader #fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #toji x you

[finelinevogue]

paparazzi nerves

summary - you get nervous around the paps

word count: >1k

pairing: boyfriend!harry x reader

You noticed the paparazzi before anyone else did

It had been easy keeping your holiday location a secret from fans, but somehow the paparazzi always seemed to be able to find you.

Harry’s tour had finished only days ago and now you were spending time together, relaxing and having fun. It had been hard to really dedicate time to one another when Harry had been touring every other day, but now it was time for rest.

Harry had rented a couple of small boats to drive over to a little island he had read about in one of his Italian travel books.

Now you were all arriving and soaking up the glorious sunshine, only to be rudely interrupted by the faraway lenses of the paparazzi.

Harry was on another boat, talking to James and Tyler, whilst you remained on a different boat with Gemma.

You and Gemma weren’t the biggest fans of the sun and the heat, so any opportunity to sit in the shade was taken instantly.

Gemma was sat in her pink dungarees, whilst you were sat in your yellow summers dress. The one that Harry said made you look like a summers dream.

As Gemma continued to read, you kept getting distracted by the paparazzi on a boat in the distance.

You’d never been one to really acclimatise to the constant clicking of photos. No doubt they would be focused on taking photos of Harry - especially when he’s sitting there shirtless, but part of you still remained uneasy.

“I might go and see if there’s a toilet nearby.” Gemma said, standing up and rocking the boat slightly.

You nodded, standing up too.

“I’ll go over there.” You pointed to where Harry was. “Just so I’m not alone.”

“Alright.”

Gemma wandered to the front of the boat, but before she can clamber out Harry has made his way over and is now standing at shin length in the sea.

“Y’alright Gem?” He asked and you couldn’t help but smile at how much of a gentleman he was. Always keen to help out and lend a hand.

He offered his hand for Gemma to hold and step out of the boat, which she took gladly.

“Yeah. Just going to the loo. Your missus needs company, though.”

“Oh does she now?” He turned to look at you once Gemma was out safely. He smiled brightly at you, checking you over and admiring how much you were glowing in the Italian sun.

Gemma kissed Harry on the cheeks before leaving.

Harry then jumped the boat and you bit your lip to hide a laugh when he nearly lost his footing. The idiot was trying to show off, not that he had to for you.

“Y’need me, do you?” he asked, walking over to you where you were still standing in the shade.

“Didn’t want to be sat here like a loner. I’d have been like that one photo of Taylor where she’s sat on the back of a boat by herself.”

Harry laughed at that, finding his arms wrapping around you to pull you in for a hug. He squeezed tight and you sighed into his warm chest. His hugs were always the best. Like your own personal teddy bear.

“Never would let you feel lonely, baby.” He kissed your head.

“I know.” Your lips kissed his chest as you spoke, due to how smushed against him you were. “Have you put suncream on?”

“Yes.” Harry whined.

“Oi, I’m just making sure you still look appealing when we’re older and not some wrinkly ball sack.” You explained, making Harry laugh again.

“Is that all I’m here for? Huh? Appeal for you?”

You tilted your head back to face up at him. “I thought you knew that already.”

Harry squinted his eyes and shook his head at you playfully.

What’s worse is that he brought his large hand down to your bum and gave it a pinch through your dress. The moment only lasted a second, but it was enough for you to step away and push him off of you.

“Harry, don’t.” You said sternly.

Harry knew you meant it too, because you used his actual name and not some other endearment.

“Hey, baby, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He said.

You sat down where you had been sitting before and huffed. You ran your hands over your face and tried to breathe slowly.

“No, i’m sorry.” You shook your head.

“What for?” Harry was confused. He sat down next to you, but made sure you had your own space until he knew what he was in for.

“I noticed the paparazzi here before and now I’m just paranoid. I mean, y’know I don’t deal well with them.”

Harry looked around you and only then noticed the small boat of about five photographers. Luckily he was wearing sunglasses to hide his dark stare, but he was severely pissed that they were here. Invading his private time.

What’s worse is that they were making his girlfriend uncomfortable.

“Hey, look at me. Y/N, honey. C’mere.” He twisted your legs to dangle over his and moved your body so that your back was to the paparazzi. “I’m here. Just us.”

You looked at him and noticed how he was only focused on you. You reached to move his sunglasses and pulled them down for a second to look at his eyes. His pupils were dilated slightly with the look of love he had for you. You pushed his glasses back up and settled in closer next to him.

“Just us.” You nodded.

Even though it wasn’t just you and the paparazzi would be taking photos of this moment no doubt, including the one of Harry pinching your bum, it was settling to know that Harry was here and he was doing this with you.

“Screw them. If I want to touch my girlfriend in public, I will.” You gave him a look. “W-with consent of course.”

You laughed then. “Harry I don’t care when, how, why you touch me. I.. I just… Let me know beforehand if we’re in public settings or if the paps are around. Please?”

“Promise.” He nodded seriously.

“Love you.” You reached for his hand and held onto one of his fingers with your entire hand. His hands are massive compared to yours - something the fans are always pointing out and crying over.

“Love you too.” He encompassed your hand with his and rubbed small circles into the back of your hand.

“Can y’kiss me now?”

“Never going to say no.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles blurbs #harry styles italy #harry styles yacht #harry styles girlfriend

[withleeknow]

cats and soup.

note: i have a newfound obsession and it's cats and soup so this might be a little niche but it's meant for me and i just wanted to word vomit lmfao

cats and soup, that's your latest obsession. all it took was five minutes of your friend introducing you to the game before you were completely captivated by the world of cute little animated cats making soup on your phone.

so much so that you had to show your boyfriend.

obviously. it's a game about cats. who else would you rather squeal about it with?

though, much to your disappointment, minho doesn't seem very impressed as you try to get him to look at your phone screen for more than ten seconds.

okay. little meanie.

"why would you need to play a game like this when you have our actual babies right over there?"

"i have them in here too!" you'd argue. "look! i named them soonie, doongie and dori. aren't they so cute? soonie is on soup duty, doongie is chopping carrots, and dori is grating cabbages. i even got them cute little hats!"

the mention of his cats featured in the game gets minho to spare you a glance, intrigued for a fleeting moment before he's turning away again.

you'd scowl at his refusal to entertain you but then you'd admit defeat pretty quickly in favor of immersing in your phone once more. it's cats !! making soups !!

it's not unusual for you two to be in separate bubbles while sitting side by side. you're not one of those couples who has to do everything with each other, but you did kinda hope that this would be something for you to have fun with together.

but oh well, if minho isn't interested, then you can't force him. the game is still fun though. even though you go to bed that night a little bummed out, you still fall asleep thinking about getting a black kitten and naming it mimo. it'd be cute, maybe you'd even put him on lemon squeezing duty.

fast forward to the next morning, when he literally shakes you awake at the ass crack of dawn, calling your name frantically.

your first thought is the house must be burning down, because lee minho never acts like this.

"i finally got you!"

"you got me what?"

"i got your cat!"

"what?"

actually, on second thought, the only time that you've seen him this hyped up was when you'd gotten you two matching pjs with soonie, doongie and dori printed on them.

"see?!" then the guy is full on shoving his phone in your face, the sudden brightness of his screen almost taking your eyes out that you have to push his hand away.

"min!"

"sorry. here."

he'd lower the brightness and hold the device a safe distance from your face, impatiently waiting for your eyes to adjust to whatever it is that he's trying to show you.

it's a cat.

an animated cat.

specifically, a cats and soup animated cat, named after you.

"you named a cat after me?"

"yeah i was waiting for ages to get another black cat. i got one first and named it after me. now we can be a black cat couple. look at the cat tower i got us-"

"minho, what the fuck? when did you even start playing?"

"i downloaded it after you fell asleep."

"have you been playing all night? did you even sleep?"

"no, but that's beside the point. look, i'm trying to show you!"

you love him, you do. truly. completely. most ardently. you recognize that this is one of the cutest things that he's done. but jesus christ...

"it's sunday. it's 6 in the morning."

"yeah i know, but-"

"i'll look at it later."

"you're up, you can look now. i got you a potted plant that grows from your head and-"

"lee minho, let me fucking go back to sleep!"

you may have unintentionally created a monster.

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken @extrhotjne

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #lee know #lee minho #blurbs

[therhythmafterthesummer]

hard thought :

chris feeling his rut coming, his girl coming home with her male coworker’s scent on her, chris fucking her brains out and painting her cunt in his cum, breeding her to bits, fluffy aftercare.

HELP THIS IS GONNA BE ON MY MIND FOREVER!!

anon i hate you (i love you) because this ask.... THIS ASK.... i couldn't stop thinking about this ask. it literally made me black out and next thing i knew there were words in my google docs and.... yeah. again, might as well share it JKSDFHSKJDFH (this is barely proof-read, sorry, i was literally possessed writing this sdfhsjkdf)

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader (one of the main pairings of my WereRoomies series, but you don’t really need to read any other instalments to understand/enjoy this one). | Word Count: ~2k | Warnings: smut · established relationship · chubby/curvy MC · Chris’ POV · mandatory Christopher is Intense™ warning · pet names · possessiveness · unprotected penetration (no barrier method, but BC is used) · praising · creampie · breeding kink · copious amounts of fluids (concerningly so. but this is some monster fuckery, what else would you expect?)

It wasn’t enough. Nowhere near enough.

“C–Chris, b–baby…”

“Hm? What is it, pretty? Want me to stop?”

You shook your head, nuzzling your face on the bed sheets. Chris could feel his heart swell in his chest, you were just how he wanted you to be… moaning, whining, saying his name and only his name.

But, still, it wasn’t enough.

Whenever you came home from work, with the smell of your coworkers all over you, he typically didn’t mind. It was only natural for you to smell like other people after spending all day with them, just like he probably did, too. But today, the smell of your male colleagues on you triggered something in him, something primal that was usually perfectly kept at bay.

You didn’t even question it when he wrapped his arms around your waist and held you from behind while you washed a pot in the sink. After all, it wasn’t uncommon for him to cling to you.

‘Are you a wolf or a koala?’ you’d ask him sometimes, which always made him chuckle.

Today, Chris didn’t chuckle at the question. He simply buried his face deeper in the crook of your neck, kissing and licking your skin, trying to get rid of any traces of foreign scents–or rather, trying to leave his behind.

Sneaking a hand under your shirt, he held your soft belly, squishing and kneading your flesh while his other hand was too busy caressing your hips. ‘…Right now? I’m a wolf, pretty. A very horny wolf’.

Which was how you both ended up here.

With a hand between your shoulder blades, Chris kept your upper body pressed to the mattress, while the other diligently rubbed circles on your clit, making you clench harder around his length, ripping a low growl from deep within his chest. The sound was barely audible, but it was certainly there, mingling with the slapping of skin that seemed to bounce off of the walls as he kept fucking you from behind.

The feel of the soft, supple flesh of your bum against his skin was absolutely delectable, and the squelching sounds coming from where your bodies met were starting to make Chris lose his mind. How many times had he come? Two? Three? He wasn’t sure. The only thing he was sure of was that it wasn’t enough. 

“You’re so fucking perfect, baby. Perfect”, Chris’ pace picked up, eliciting a desperate whine from your lips. “Perfect and mine. Right? Just mine?”

Tightening your grip on the bed sheets, seeking his forearm with your free hand, you simply nodded, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts.

“Say it”, Chris spoke between gritted teeth, speeding the movement of his fingers on your clit, determined to get you to your peak. Well, to another peak…

How many times had you come? Three? Four? He didn’t know, and at this point, he didn’t care. Once again, all he knew was that it wasn’t enough.

“Y–yours”, you could barely speak, and had Chris been a bit more coherent he would’ve probably slowed down. But as it was now, he simply couldn’t. If anything, the faintness in your voice made him go faster, chasing not only the feel of your skin hitting his, but also the delicious feel of your tightness dragging back and forth around him. “Close…”

“Close?” Chris could certainly tell you were close. The smell of your arousal wrapped around every single one of his nerve endings, your heart was beating so fast and loud in your chest it was mingling with his own heartbeat in his ears.

The vice grip of your cunt clouded his mind, the feeling of you around him had him salivating, grunting, groaning… Tingles of pleasure ran up and down his spine, and he could feel his own orgasm nearing increasingly fast. 

“Can you take another load, pretty? Hm?”

He knew you could. After all, you’d already taken everything he had given you so far. But still, he desperately wanted you to say it, he needed you to say it.

You nodded again, whining, and something akin to the word ‘please’ left your mouth. That simple sound got him so incredibly close, so close he was starting to lose the little composure he had left in him.

“Need to…stuff you full, baby”, you didn’t say anything after the words left his mouth. You honestly didn’t need to, he could feel how hard you clenched as soon as he said it. “You like it, don’t you, love? When I fill you up? When I fuck my cum back in as deep as it can go?” 

You nodded, so eagerly he could feel his head start to spin.

That was exactly what he’d done this entire time, shoot his load into your warmth, only to keep fucking you even when you were already filled to the brim. It didn’t matter, though, because doing it once, twice, thrice, just wasn’t enough. Chris needed you to be as full of him as you could, he needed to give you more, as much as his body was capable of. And judging by how he’d not gone soft once the entire time, he just couldn’t stop until that primal need was fulfilled, until his inner wolf was satisfied.

Finally, you moaned his name, so prettily he almost felt blessed that he was able to hear you over and over again. With an assortment of loud swears, your whole body trembled with your release, and Chris finally removed his fingers from your sensitive nub. Instead, he brought both of his hands to your hips so he could pull you back to meet his thrusts when you clearly couldn’t do it on your own anymore.

He vaguely registered praising you for it. He could feel his heart swell with pride, not only because of how good he’d made you feel, but also for how well you’d done for him, for how well you’d taken it all. Satisfied mate, perfect mate, mine, just for me, soft mate just for me…

“Gonna–Fuck, pretty, gonna stuff you so fucking full…”

With a low, drawn out growl, Chris finally let himself go. The undeniable satisfaction of an orgasm always seemed to triple whenever he got to pump you full of his cum, and today, at this very moment, nothing had felt quite as fulfilling as this did.

Even when he came, though, he didn’t stop moving. He vaguely registered the sting of overstimulation, but he just couldn’t stop. All you did was take it. Take anything and everything he had to give as quiet whimpers fell from your lips and your nails dug on his forearm. 

“Need to…” He was panting, groaning, and he could barely hear anything over his beating heart in his ears. “Need to make sure it sticks….”

Chris was delirious, for sure. Nothing would stick. It never did, you were protected in that regard, but his numerous orgasms had his logical, human mind completely disconnected from reality. All he had left were his wolf instincts, those instincts that urged him to claim you in the utmost primal way possible, those instincts that urged him to give you a part of himself, that urged him to breed you.

One, two, three, four thrusts, and he finally stilled, groaning. A shiver ran up and down his spine, and before he could even stop himself, he collapsed, squishing you between his body and the mattress when your knees finally gave out under his weight.

Even through the haze, he couldn’t help but wonder if you could feel how hard his heart was beating against your back.

“Fuck, baby, you okay?” Chris was panting still, his mind foggy, oscillating between this moment in your shared bedroom and somewhere deep within himself.

You laughed. A hearty laugh, albeit a bit strained. “Are you?”

The sound brought to the forefront of his heart all that undeniable love he felt for you, dissipating some of that fogginess in his brain. Chris couldn’t help but laugh as well. 

Carefully, he peeled his body away from you, leaving the warmth of your inner walls in the process, which honestly shouldn’t have made him feel this irrationally sad. His erection was finally going down, he’d been hard for so long, but only now did he register how sore he was.

As soon as he kneeled on the bed, with his hands on your bum, spreading you open to see bucket loads of his cum trickling out of your abused hole, he felt himself twitch, and for a microsecond he feared the cycle would start all over again.

Thankfully, it didn’t.

Chris simply heaved a sigh of relief, absentmindedly staring at your centre, at your mixed fluids oozing out of you and soiling your bed sheets in the process.

It dawned on him then just how desperately needed this, which puzzled him a bit. Sure, he’d be the first to admit he loved to be all over you, but he genuinely felt like he couldn’t breathe until he stuffed you as full of his cum as he possibly could.

“Baby?” Your voice snapped him out of the daze he was in, making him blink. 

Looking back at your face, he was met with a teasing–yet a bit tired–smile on your lips. “Hm?”

“You weren’t listening were you?” 

Chris felt himself flush. Had you spoken? He hadn’t heard a single thing. Was he that pussy drunk? He supposed he couldn’t blame himself for it. Not when you were the girl of his dreams, not when you were almost glowing in your post-orgasmic bliss, not when he was this unequivocally in love.

He simply shook his head in response, ignoring the heat he felt spreading from his chest to the back of his neck. 

“I asked if you were enjoying the view, Christopher”, you chuckled, and it made him smile.

He licked his lips, returning his eyes to your drenched folds, just in time to see more of him coming out. You totally did that on purpose, and he couldn’t help but scoff a chuckle, finally letting go of your buttocks so he could land a smack on one of them, right before he laid down next to you and pulled you into his arms. 

“I was”, he admitted, because what would be the point of lying to you? If there was one thing he could be with you, it was being honest. Chris pressed a kiss on your forehead, holding you tighter. “I love you”.

“Mmm… Love you, too”, was all you mumbled back, tucking your head under his chin, and draping a leg over his hip, pulling him closer to you. “I’m okay, by the way”.

“Good”, with his index and thumb on your chin, he pulled your face up, enough so he could kiss you. Probably the softest kiss he’d initiated since this all started. “I’m okay, too. More than okay”.

You both stayed there for a while, just kissing, cuddling, sharing some warmth, until Chris asked if you’d like a bath, to which you immediately agreed.

Now, with his back against the tub, and with you between his legs, your back against his chest, he simply held you close as you told him about your day. Chris listened intently, massaging your soft body under the water in an attempt to soothe your achy limbs while you spoke to him. 

In here, all he could smell on you now was your floral scent and the smell of your shared home, which probably meant you also smelt like him. The realisation, along with the sound of your voice, helped his muscles relax. Finally, he was at ease.

Chris told you about his day, too. Nonessential information about things he’d done, or office gossip that he knew you’d enjoy listening to. Even when you eventually turned to face him, grabbing his shampoo and lathering your hands.

“Babe”, your fingers glided through his hair, massaging in his shampoo on his scalp. Chris would admit he enjoyed this more than he thought he ever would. Just looking at your face this close, feeling the soft movement of your hands on his head… It always felt incredibly intimate and soothing. So much so he was sure that, had he been in his wolf form, his tail would be wagging right now. “I think your rut is coming very soon”.

His eyes widened. He started doing the math in his head, had that much time passed already? “Shit, you might be right”.

“Might?” You chuckled, using a cup to gather water from the tub so you could rinse the shampoo out of his hair. “I am right, baby. You don’t just pump me full of your cum four times in a row for no reason”.

A smile made its way onto his lips. He looked you in the eyes, relishing the galaxies he could see in them, ignoring how fast his heart started to beat at the sight. It wasn’t the feeling he needed right now, not when he wanted to tease you effectively. “You were begging for it, too, though”.

Finally done with his hair, you cradled his face in your hands, staring right back at him. “That’s ‘cause I love it when you stuff me full of your cum, Chris”.

The fine hairs at his nape stood on end, and he had to make the conscious effort not to shiver. Bringing his hands to your waist, Chris pulled you closer. “Pretty, if I fuck you again today I’ll have to be hospitalised for dehydration. Don’t just casually drop that on me, God…”

You chuckled, leaning in, kissing him tenderly, and he simply melted under the soft movement of your lips on his.

You were right, though. His rut was surely coming soon, probably sometime next week… He’d have to start making arrangements soon, just like you had to, too.

Food had to be prepared, drinks had to be bought, PTO had to be confirmed, and any sexual activities had to be stopped to make sure your body was well rested enough for what was to come. Chris couldn’t let himself go like he did today, he didn’t want to inadvertently hurt you later because of his idiotic wolf urges…

Everything else could wait until tomorrow, though. Tonight, the only thing that mattered to him was enjoying your company and your warmth.

© therhythmafterthesummer 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

figured i’d tag anyone that wants to be tagged in my wereroomies instalments. if you don’t want to be tagged in little ask responses like these let me know ! If you want to be added to the tag list, you can fill in this form. be aware that you must have an indication that you’re an adult in your blog if you want me to tag you in my works

@222wonnie · @staaa96 · @oiminho · @straylightdream · @starshine-moon · @biribarabiribbaem · @100layersofdaddyissues · @dearalice · @alexis-reads-fics · @xcookiemonsteer · @knowleeknow · @chanlovesme · @liminaldaydream · @sstarryreads · @svngiem · @notastraykid · @princelingperfect · @violetpenguinkris · @leedunno · @peepeepoopooharrie · @aestheticsluut · @skzhomiehopper · @cessixja · @mimzibee · @hipsdofangirl · @djeniryuu · @floatingcoffecup · @minnysproutgriffinteddy · @moonmooncr · @phobia0325 · @leebitsimpracha · @viviixlyy · @casualenthusiastexpert · @kileidoscope · @kpop-bbdoll · @crispytigerearthquake · @meloncremesoda · @amaranth-writing · @fawnpeaks · @dalamjisung · @comet-falls

#stray kids supernatural au #stray kids fantasy AU #stray kids werewolf au #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfiction #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan fic #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #werewolf chan #werewolf bang chan #✨🌙✏

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: Just some HC's about what aftercare might be like with some of the boys (don't @ me, they're FICTIONAL, first of all. And go read my pinned post -> everyone is at least 18, but I imagine them 25 or older. Just a friendly reminder! Thanks!)

I have some more ideas lined up for a 2nd part//or whatever but I'm not gonna do them if this doesn't fall into the laps of people who really enjoy it. Y'all know what I'm talking about.

C/W ::: Hanma/Chifuyu/Baji/Kisaki/Kazutora/Draken x F.reader, talk of sex, and things that go along with it. Hair pulling, dirty talk (not in detail really) ... if anything wasn't listed and you just know it should be (like the world will end if I don't include it), let me know!

WC ::: 1,289 (I can't stop. And no, I'm not sorry.)

PART 2

Ⓗanma ::: He would kiss all the red, splotchy spots he made on your body. Rubbing your bum to soothe the burn of where his hand came down so hard, so many times. You'd be laying there totally enjoying the sweetness that he's giving you until you feel his cock press into your hip. You look at him with that quirked brow, narrowed eyes, and smirk on your lips, just daring him to push you for "one more". Hanma has his hands out in front of him, almost like he's defending himself against the look on your face. "I - promise. I promise to be more gentle this time." He leans down to kiss your tits and take a bright and swollen nipple into his mouth, sucking gently and trying to convince you that he will, in fact, go easier on you this time. "YOLO, hana. C'mon." He runs his fingers over your still soaked cunt. "You're a real bastard, y'know that, Shu? Fine. But this time, I'm beating your ass."

((*Hana -> Blossom in Japanese))

Ⓒhifuyu ::: He's going to have whatever you could need or want already at his place. Obviously, you have what you need at your place. But sometimes you're not home. So it's nice to have him prepared. He'd have stuff for you to take a nice bath after he wrecked you. There would be a pretty, mirrored tray in his bathroom with a variety of essential oils and little vials of bath salts for his baby to use at her leisure. Chifuyu would low-key do some research on which oils did what. Peppermint was uplifting and good for headaches. Lavender was good to calm your mind and ease muscle aches. He would be the kind of guy to pull your hair while he's fucking you from behind telling you "Turn ... turn your head so I can see how fuckin' beautiful you look while you're takin' this cock. Fuckin' love you so ... fuckin' ... much, angel. Make me feel so good. 'M I makin' you feel good, too? Yeah? Fuck yeah, want you to cum all over me with that gorgeous pussy of yours."

Ⓑaji ::: He is the wildcard and the surprising one when it comes to aftercare. Sometimes 97.9% of the time, his aftercare evolves into more sex. Whether it's oral (he likes to lick up the cummy mess from your puffy little pussy - and moan a little about it - which fuckin' only turns you on more so it's partially your fault that you guys fuck again when he was planning on taking care of you ... just in a different way). He loves you, though. He loves the pink glow of your cheeks (face and ass - and it doesn't matter if you're fair-skinned or a darker tone - dude WILL make sure he changes the natural hue of your flesh). Baji enjoys seeing his large handprint on your ass and thighs. Also will kiss at all the bite marks he's left on your body - your whole body. There is no discrimination when he sinks his teeth into you. Man will just kind of let his heart guide him and he'll bite wherever his mouth lands. He does a bunch of little things for you: He'll bring you your favorite drink (which he learned right away), he will order takeout if you're hungry (he knows what to get), he lays with you and holds you close to him if it was a particularly rough and raunchy romp. Secretly enjoys the closeness almost more than you do.

Ⓚisaki ::: Is a dumbass ... at first. The first time you guys fucked he hopped up and took a shower. Liiiiike, no, dude. Wrong. Answer. Asshat. He's pissed that Hanma told him that he was an absolute idiot for doing that. Like, how did that shit ass know more than him!? However, once Kisaki is made aware of what is expected (but NOT expected, however, much appreciated), he is almost a changed man. After a slow and close afternoon rendezvous at his place, you're both laying there, basking in the afterglow. He stays in bed with you for a while and kisses your cheek, rubs your hip with the palm of his freakishly warm hand, giving you a squeeze occasionally. "You uh, *aheh*, can I get you anything, ningyō? Water, tea? Are you hungry? Anything you want." He smiles at you nervously, trying to recall what Hanma instructed him to say. "No, Kisa', I think right now I just want you to be here with me. Is that ok? Will you stay?" He nods his head, "Of course. But I still want to shower." You roll your eyes but appreciate the time he's sharing with you anyway.

((*Ningyō -> Doll in Japanese))

Ⓚazutora ::: Seems to think that aftercare = afterplay 🔁 foreplay. It's not such farfetched logic. But you love how fucking sweet on you he is. He kisses all over your body; your neck is his favorite place to kiss you when you're in the kitchen working together toward the level of aftercare you both deserve. He'll stand behind you and run his hands all over the expanse of your hips, back, waist, chest. Then he'll start salivating a little heavier at the thought of sucking on your nipples. How hard and squishy (HOW THOUGH) they are between his lips. Kazutora will dip down under your arm and stand between you and the counter as you're cutting up something and start kissing you - quite heavily. And you don't mind, but you're still kind of wiped out from the hour and a half you two just spent in bed. But his big, curious eyes just have this effect on you and you stretch out your neck when he starts to nuzzle his nose in there and whisper how much he wants to go down on you again make sure that pretty little pussy isn't still sore. He wants to give you a "massage" to ease any discomfort. "You won't have to lift a finger - un-unless you want to, momo. Please?" He will just pick you up and carry your ass back to the room and take his sweet, sweet time with you. AGAIN.

((*Momo -> Peach in Japanese))

Ⓓraken ::: D-R-A-K-E-N *sighs dreamily*. This big fool. The things you do to/for each other are out of this world. Your bodies were made for one another. Period. Not only does he have you down to a science while he's fucking you, his aftercare is top notch. Draken is the kind of guy who will pull your hair so your ears are closer to him and he'll whisper the filthiest and most nasty shit to you. He's also the kind of guy who will hold your hand to the shower (once you're able to walk again) and wash your hair to ease any residual burning on your scalp. He'll gently brush it out while you sit at your vanity in the bathroom and bend over to whisper incredibly sweet things to you. He's not trying to cancel all the things he did to you (for you??) but he likes there to be a balance. He doesn't want things to get too off kilter. So expect an equal or greater reaction from him in the aftercare routine. Draken will also pay attention to small cues from you and if you ever seem bothered by anything - he doesn't care how small or stupid you might think it is - he always gets you to tell him. So don't waste time. Just fucking tell him so he can go back to being the best boyfriend to you.

Taglist ::: @kazutora-kurokawa @katkitkats @arlerts-angel @viburnt @darkstarlight82

#tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokrev #draken #ken ryuguji #x reader smut #keisuke baji #baji x reader #chifuyu x reader #chifuyu matsuno #tetta kisaki x reader #kisaki #kazutora hanemiya #kazutora x reader #hanma shuji #tokyo rev x you

[fadedin2u]

pick up and roll the dice - ch. 3

read in between the lines, i know you love me…

summary: you plan a surprise for ellie’s birthday, and ellie’s doesn’t know what to do about her overwhelming feelings for you.

content: college!au, childhood best friends!au, dealer!ellie, fem!reader, modern!au, ellie is a simp (not surprising), ur also a simp, art major!ellie, kinda slow burn??

word count: 2k

warnings: none really for this chapter!! expect nsfw chapters in the future so MDNI 18+

notes: it bums me tf out how little attention ellie fluff gets on tumblr, but i love writing this series, so if u like to read it, like/reblogs are SO appreciated

read chapters one and two here!

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

The day after the party, Ellie’s a wreck. She barely got a wink of sleep that night, unable to stop ruminating on how much she’s fucking up her friendship with you by having this soul-consuming want for you. It’s not like Ellie doesn’t know how bad this could all end. You’re not only her closest friend, one of the few people she actually trusts, but you’re her goddamn roommate. If Ellie fucks this up, there’s no escaping the awkwardness that would inevitably ensue, plus risk losing you completely.

So, she texts Kylie.

E: hey, sorry for going MIA lmao, things got busy, would u wanna grab dinner w me on friday?

Ellie sits down on her bed and rubs her temples. She doesn’t even like Kylie very much, but she’s available, and she’s clearly interested in Ellie, so at the very least Kylie can be a distraction from you.

Ellie feels a black hole of guilt swirling in her stomach from leading Kylie on, but it dissipates as quickly as it came on when you burst through into dorm, kicking off your shoes that you wore to your morning classes. Ellie, usually, is still asleep when you leave for classes, but this morning, she was just lying in bed, completely awake, as she listened to you getting ready, pushing through your hangover.

“Happy 20th Birthday eve!” You exclaim, giving Ellie a bright, cheeky grin.

She rolls her eyes, trying to conceal her smile, “You’re such a fucking dork.

You shrug and laugh, “Hey, it takes one to know one.”

You notice the dark circles under her eyes and frown slightly, “You look like shit.”

Ellie huffs a laugh, “Thanks.”

You sit across from Ellie on your own dorm-style twin bed. “You’re free tomorrow, right?”

Ellie nods, “I’m getting breakfast with Joel that morning, but yeah, I’ll be free after.”

You grin, and mischievous look on your face, “Good.”

Ellie raises an eyebrow, “Should I be worried?”

You shake your head, “Nah, you’ll love it. I just can’t wait to see your reaction. Just make sure you’re here at the dorm by 5pm, okay?”

Ellie puts up her hand, raising two fingers, “Scout’s honor.”

You snort, standing up to walk to the bathroom, “That’d probably mean more if you were actually a Scout.”

Ellie scoffs, “I know way more about survival than any of those dipshits, I’m basically an honorary scout, if you think about it.”

You rolls your eyes and laugh, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Els.”

—————

The next day, Ellie’s playing the guitar that Joel made her for her birthday when you walk into the dorm at 5pm sharp.

“Happy Birthday Ellie-Bellie!” You exclaim, knowing her deep-seated hatred for her childhood nickname as you throw a handful of streamers in her direction.

She keeps herself from laughing, “You’re cleaning that up, right?”

You give her a look, “No, I was planning on making you my maid on your birthday. Now come on, we need to get going!”

She puts her guitar to the side and stands up, smoothing out the wrinkles in her t-shirt and cargo pants with her hands.

“Is that from Joel?” You ask, motioning to the guitar.

Ellie nods and smiles wide, “Yeah, he made it for me, it’s super sweet.”

You examine the guitar’s craftsmanship as Ellie laces up her converse.

“You’re not driving right?” She asks.

You give her another look, “I have to, it’s a surprise destination. You can’t drive somewhere you don’t even know you’re going to.”

She groans, “And to think I didn’t even give Joel a proper goodbye.”

You kick her shin playfully, “Shut up, you’ll be fine. I’m an… okay driver.”

Ellie starts walking out of the dorm building with you, “Does an ‘okay driver’ almost commit vehicular manslaughter twice?”

Your face goes hot, “Those kids appeared out of no where, and I stand by that. Besides, the key word is ‘almost’, babe.”

Ellie doesn’t look convinced.

“Besides, you get to be my passenger princess for today,” You say with an obnoxiously cocky grin as you walk into the parking lot.

Ellie rubs her face, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

You giggle and walk up to your car, opening the passenger door for Ellie, to which Ellie rolls her eyes at, but you can see that she’s trying not to smile.

You hop in the driver’s seat and say, “Birthday girl gets aux.”

Ellie plays a lot of 80s music during your drive into the city to her surprise destination, her taste in music developed during her years living with Joel. Halfway through Take On Me by A-ha, you pull into a parking lot.

You and Ellie get out of the car and you start leading her to a large building. Once you two can see the sign that reads “The Hansen Planetarium”, a giddy grin breaks out on Ellie’s face.

“Oh fuck yeah, we’re going to the planetarium?!” Ellie asks, walking faster.

You laugh and catch up with her, “What can I say? I know my girl.”

Ellie’s face goes a bit pink and she tucks some loose hair from her half-up bun behind her ear, “Yeah, I guess you do.”

You show the person at the planetarium’s front desk your confirmation for the tickets you bought beforehand, and you go inside.

Ellie stops to read nearly every blurb that’s written in front of each display, and you patiently wait for her, wanting her to take her time and fully enjoy the experience.

In between reading and examining the exhibits, Ellie is listing off factoid after factoid.

“Y’know, Neptune’s only made one full orbit around the sun since its discovery.”

“There’s actually some gravity on the International Space Station, which is kinda weird honestly.”

“Dude, do you know that the moon is really shaped like a lemon?”

You raise an eyebrow at that one, “You’re lying.”

Ellie laughs, “I am not! It’s fucking crazy! It looks round in the night sky, but I swear on my life it’s really shaped like a lemon.”

You shrug, still doubtful but accepting that Ellie’s probably not wrong, knowing her long-time obsession with space.

By the time you’ve made it through the all of the exhibits, Ellie is a little bummed.

“I almost wish there was more to look at, I don’t wanna say goodbye yet,” she says and your lips quirk up into a knowing smile.

“Yeah, it sure is too bad that there’s nothing else to do. On an unrelated note, follow me.”

You lead Ellie to the entrance of the Dome Theater inside the planetarium, and Ellie’s eyes light up when she reads the sign.

“Rock the Dome? Dude. Is this a laser show?”

You laugh and nod, glad that you guessed correctly that Ellie, the nerd she is, would be genuinely excited about this.

Ellie pulls you into a tight hug, “What the fuck? You know me too well.”

Your cheeks go hot and you giggle a little, “Well, at least we can agree on that.”

You give the Usher the tickets you pre-paid for, and let Ellie pick your seats in the Dome Theater, the night sky projected onto the curved walls surrounding you.

When she sits, you sit next to her and she immediately grabs your hand.

“Thank you. Seriously. This is… Genuinely one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.” Ellie says, squeezing your hand with a soft look in her eyes.

You squeeze her hand back, hoping you don’t look as flustered as you feel. “It’s seriously no big deal, Els. You’re my best friend, you deserve this.”

Ellie looks down at her lap and smiles a little, but doesn’t let go of your hand as the laser show starts, fog machines starting to pump out misty clouds into the room that makes the light from the lasers almost look solid.

Your mind is racing as the music comes on, mesmerizing the crowd with the lasers dancing in coordination, ‘This is platonic, right? This has to be platonic. Ellie’s just being appreciative of what I did for her. Jesus fucking Christ, maybe this isn’t platonic?’

You decided to not think about it too much at that moment, and try to enjoy the spectacle of color and light before your eyes.

———

The show included a lot of classic rock from the 80s, including Queen, the Stones, Bowie, Talking Heads, and The Clash. Ellie was awestruck, singing under her breath to every song that she knew, while you tried not to smile too big at how cute she was being.

By the time you two are back at the dorm, Ellie is completely over the moon.

“This was seriously the best birthday I’ve had yet. A new guitar from Joel, planetarium, and a laser show? This day fuckin’ ruled.”

You giggle and go over to your closet, “Well, it’s not quite over yet.”

Ellie narrows her eyes, “No way. You’ve already done so much.”

You pull a thin, wrapped gift from the top of your small closet, and bring it over to where Ellie’s standing.

“I wanted to do so much,” You say, rubbing the back of your neck.

Ellie takes the gift from you and sits down on her bed, intrigued.

“Can I open it?” She asks.

You laugh, “No, I just brought over your birthday gift so you could check out my wrapping job. Go open it, dumbass.”

Ellie chuckles and tears open the wrapping paper, her face morphing into shock as she sees the Special Edition “Savage Starlight” comic book in her hands.

“Holy fuck,” Ellie says, staring at it a second longer before nearly lunging forward to hug you.

You stumble back a bit, laughing as you wrap your arms around her as well.

“I’m guessing that was a good choice?”

Ellie guffaws, “Are you fucking kidding? It’s perfect. How the fuck did you find this, dude?”

You shrug , smiling to yourself, “I have my ways.”

Ellie pulls back from the hug, her freckled face a little pink as she looks back down at the comic book.

“This is too much. Like, way too much.”

You shrug, “Once again, you deserve it.”

Ellie looks down, smiling to herself, “Still. You’re just… This is so fucking thoughtful.”

You laugh a little, feeling flustered by this whole interaction, “What can I say? I have a lot of thoughts in this head, I gotta make good use of them.”

‘So fucking dumb, oh my god,’ you think to yourself, wincing at your response.

Ellie rolls her eyes at you, but her grin is huge and pure. “I’m gonna use the bathroom super quick, but do you wanna read it with me after?”

You smile wide, sitting on her bed, “Absolutely.”

Ellie races to your shared bathroom, and as she’s gone, you pull out your phone and scroll absentmindedly.

You’re pulled away from your phone when you hear Ellie’s phone buzz on her bedside table, right next to you, the screen lit up.

Before you have time to shame yourself for intruding on her personal business, you glance over at her screen, where a text is shown:

Kylie: I would love that! :) what time were you thinking?

Your stomach fills with dread and complete embarrassment. You should’ve known better than to think that Ellie holding your hand was anything more than platonic, that Ellie would ever see you more than her best friend. You knew that Ellie has never, and will never see you the way you see her, and you still let yourself get butt hurt over something as stupid as her getting a text from someone else.

‘I’m so fucking dumb, this is my own damn fault for getting my hopes up.’

You try to go back to scrolling through your phone, but your churning stomach keeps distracting you from thinking about what’s on your own screen, still thinking about the text you saw on Ellie’s.

When Ellie comes back in the room, she tears open the plastic packaging on the comic book and tosses herself onto her bed, pressed against you.

You move away from her slightly, “You ready?”

Ellie’s chest pangs with slight hurt, seeing you distance yourself from her.

“Uh, yeah! Let’s see what the Traveler’s are up to this time,” She says, trying to cover up how let down she is that you clearly don’t want to cuddle with her as usual.

You cross your arms and legs, leaning against the wall against Ellie’s bed. You’re barely able to see the full page of the comic book, but you don’t really care, it’s not like you’ll be able to think of anything except for that text.

Ellie glances over at you, her face crestfallen as she bites her lip, before pulling it together and getting into her “narrator” voice.

“The year is 2186, light years away from planet Earth…”

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

read texts w/ reader and ellie here

i realized i don’t have a taglist for this so lmk if you’d like to be added!

taglist: @elsbabyxx @mikellie

#rose writes #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #tlou2 #tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie fluff #ellie williams fluff #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader

[ddollfface]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘅 𝗙𝗲𝗺!𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

Trigger Warnings; bad writing, lovesick behavior, reader is called 'my girl' multiple times, reader is described as more 'curvy' (in LoveSick!Bimbo's specifically), fluffy, nothing too bad. If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡ Hey, I'm sorry I've been so absent recently, but that's just because of personal issues. And I'd also like to say that I'm not going to be the most active writer on the app, sooo um sorry 'bout that. I'm just not very motivated to really do anything, so yeah. I hope ya'll enjoy :)))

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𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙎𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝘼𝙩𝙝𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚

All of the Above. Any way he can show you affection, he will. Nothing is holding him back from hugging you, kissing you, or holding your hand. He has no fear. I mean, what are you going to do? Push him away? Yeah, right. And this is when his ego gets in the way. He can't comprehend why you wouldn't want to touch him, besides, he wants to touch you! He wants to love you, hold you, and protect you! Why wouldn't you want that?

He also enjoys buying you things. Whether it be a fancy dress, some makeup, paint, hell, it can even be a football or something! He doesn't judge (though he'd prefer you to be pliant, little you, someone he can protect). If you need something, whether it be for classes, a hobby, or anything of the sort, he'll pay for it! First date? Nope, don't even reach into your bag; he's got you! Want a coffee/tea/etc.? Babe, I better not see your card out right now. Who do you think I am? A bum? I take care of my girl.

He likes spending time with you, too. You're practically his best friend, after all! He likes to bring you to his practices, and games, wanting you to watch him. The majority of the time, whenever you're there, he'll purposefully show off, wanting you to know that he's husband material! He can protect you and your future children, don't worry! Just let him take care of you!

But he'll also come to any events you're a part of. Say you do theater, he's coming to every performance, the same if you do any performing art. If you do a sport (he'd be ecstatic btw), then he's coming to your practices, teaching different tips and tricks, and most importantly, he's giving you a "good luck kiss" (as he likes to call them). And if you're an artist or some sort, then he'll offer to be a model for you. He's not afraid to strip if it's for you. No matter how far you two are in the relationship, there's no hesitation in his voice when he looks at you, snarkily saying, C'mon sweets, paint me like I'm one of your French girls, yeah?

His affection doesn't stop there. I've dabbled in this concept before, but LoveSick!Athlete also loves to call you nicknames, and they're never-ending. He'll think of a new one for you every day! Honestly, it's interesting to see what he'll think of next. He has a wide variety and they span from how pretty you are, to your ass, and back to your sweet personality!

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙎𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙋𝙤𝙚𝙩

Gift Giving. LoveSick!Poet is far too nervous to talk to you. He'd shit himself if he ever called you something sweet like 'baby' or 'sweetheart', he thinks that his heart would implode. That's far too much for him. You're too much for him, too good to him, so he resorts to giving, giving, giving. He'll sneak you little poems he made about you, all flustered when you compliment his writing, how good he is. He'll get you a bouquet of flowers, all purple lilacs. LoveSick!Poet will go down to the nearest bakery, your favorite bakery, and leave you a small box of conchas, a sticky note stuck to the top of the box. It read 'I love your dress today, it looks beautiful on you :)'. He's so sweet, isn't he?

Quality Time. Similar to gift giving, it's a way for him to be affectionate without facing you. LoveSick!Poet doesn't have the best image of himself, finding your relationship with him to be a miracle, something to be worshiped, and admired. You want to go to the mall? Okay, he's on his way. Want to go out to eat? Where? When? He'll be there, but bare with him. He's not the most well-off man in New York, money's tight, right? And don't get him wrong, he feels bad. He'll constantly tell you so, going on about how he really wants to take care of you. And I'm sorry that I can't take you to the East Side, and we're stuck at the small cafe... I want to treat you, you really deserve the best, d-darling...

He just enjoys your presence overall, so any time he spends with you is a good time for him. LoveSick!Poet doesn't mind just sitting in silence, watching you do what you love. If you work at a cafe, restaurant, or anything of the sort, he'll show up to your work and just watch you do your thing. Depending on how you take his constant staring, he'll ask you for your number or how you're doing. He'll order something and have some, albeit awkward, small talk with you, wanting to know that you're doing well.

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙎𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝘽𝙞𝙢𝙗𝙤

Physical Affection. LoveSick!Bimbo is very, very, very affectionate with most people, but it's doubled whenever she's around you. Honestly, she can't help herself. She has to be touching you at some point. She just finds you to be so adorable! She wants to show her appreciation for you and your body! Of course, she'll always let you cop a feel, if you want.

She wants to have a hand on your thigh, intertwine your fingers, and even hug you. She'll always have her chest pressed against your arm, not matter you height. And believe me, she's a tall girl, but she doesn't seem to mind the stares you get from men and some women.

Verbal Affection. Not only is she physically affectionate, but she's also very sweet with her words. No matter what time of day it is, or where she is, she'll always be calling you some sweet name. She likes to compliment you and your body, making sure you're never feeling insecure. After all, she can't have her darling feeling bad about themselves when they look like that! You're always beautiful and she'll make sure you know it. She can't help but let compliments slip out, saying how your body is just so perfect! You're literally like my missing puzzle piece, babes! Like what would I do without ya' curves!!

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙎𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙

Verbal Affection. Now, she's not complimenting you constantly (like LoveSick!Athlete and LoveSick!Bimbo), but she does give you affirmations. If you did well on a test, then she'll tell you how you're so smart. I'm just so lucky I got stuck with a sweet girl like you. You make me so proud.

She'll never hold back saying 'I love you', nope, never. She's very caring in that sense, seeing as you've been friends for so long. She knows what you like, after watching you and your exes interact. LoveSick!Friend isn't afraid to pat your head and kiss you on the cheek, but it's not her go-to, y'know? So she always falls back on giving you assurance, that way you'll never doubt yourself. You're doing so great, babe. Just keep doing what you're doing, I'm here to help.

Acts of Service. LoveSick!Friend washes the dishes, does the laundry, and cooks the dinners. If you're ever feeling under the weather, then she'll become your little servant, always at your beck and call. She just wants you to be taken care of. She wants you to know that she's always going to be there for you, and you don't need some man to be here. All you need is her, so you should just delete that dating app, no?

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙎𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝘼𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩

Verbal Affection. LoveSick!Artist is sweet with his words, knowing just what to say to get you all flustered and embarrassed. His voice is deep, soft, and comforting. He'll give you reassurance and soft words, speaking softly to you. He doesn't call you pet names too often, though he'll sometimes pull out 'sweets' or 'baby' if he's feeling extra nice that day. Most of the time, he prefers to use your name, finding it to be comforting. He likes your name, pleased by how the syllables roll off his tongue. It's the name for you, he prefers that you use his given name, instead of 'babe' or 'bubba'. It makes him feel closer to you and he'll tell you that. He'll go on about how, y'know, you're voice is real sweet, just prefer hearin' ya' say my name all the time. Makes a guy all giddy inside.

Gift giving. He likes to draw you, a lot. Whenever you pop into his mind, which is every waking second, he'll draw you, having to express his thoughts somehow. Sometimes, he'll have you right in front of him, modeling for him.

He likes to give you these drawings, well, only the PG ones. After all, he doesn't think you'd be able to handle it, getting too flustered and overwhelmed by how detailed he can get. But that's not the point, the point is that he likes to draw you, and for you. He draws the world around him and then gives it to you, wanting to share his talent with you. And you're always excited about it, enjoying your boy/friend's (depending on the timeline) talent.

Quality Time. Listen, LoveSick!Artist is very monotone, preferring to be calm, and by himself. He doesn't like parties, being in big groups, or loud music. He just wants to be with his close friends, you. It doesn't have to be a shared activity, where the two of you are talking. Actually, he prefers to do his own thing, and you do yours, just the both of you enjoying each other's presence. He'll be painting and you'll be doing homework, cleaning, reading, writing, whatever. He doesn't care too much.

It's like that one friend, the one where you can not talk for months and months, but when you two reunite, you're acting as if nothing changed. That's exactly how he treats your relationship. He doesn't need to be with you 24/7, if anything, he prefers to have some alone time.

Now, for this last part, I'm not too sure what category this would be under, but LoveSick!Artist is quite built, meaning he works out a lot. He's very strong. And he gives off scary dog privileges, much to your content. He enjoys protecting you, holding you close, and making sure no man is giving you any funny looks.

I think that may be described as physical affection, but it still doesn't feel right to me. LoveSick!Artist isn't necessarily the most touchy person, seeing as he likes to keep to himself, but that won't stop him from getting possessive. He's very, very, very aggressive towards other men, especially when you're involved. He already doesn't trust men, but when he sees the way they look at you, it causes him to spiral. Out of all my LoveSick!Characters, I think that LoveSick!Artist is the most likely to kill in your name. C'mon don't be like that, did ya' see how he was looking at you? Like a piece of meat, is what.

#𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙥𝙤𝙚𝙩 #𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡'𝙨 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚'𝙨 #𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚 #𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 #𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙗𝙞𝙢𝙗𝙤 #lovesick!poet x reader #bad writing #lovesick #yandere oc #yandere oc x you #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x you #x reader #obsessive love #yan blog #wlw #fluffy #fluff headcanons #i'm so sorry guys #𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩

[bellewintersroe]

Daniel Ricciardo x HornerDaughter! Reader

part 13 - dramaaaaa y/n gets upset when reading some of the weird comments after a little group holiday goes viral and secrets are starting to be exposed. Little bit of a time jump here, I wanted to get to the nitty gritty parts. Also I realised I accidentally wrote the last chapter in first person instead of third? (Or second I can’t remember wtf each one is) oops!!!! Here’s the LINK to part 12.

warnings: mentions of sex, inappropriate touching (consensual ofc) nothing too graphic, hate?? comments& crying. Mentions of readers and Daniel’s age gap, but again the ages are up to you, I’m going no lower than 22/23 because I feel kinda weird about any younger.

“How are you so tanned, Daniel?!” The almost-as-tanned girl sat down on the Australian’s bare lap. Hence the almost, being from England and from a ginger father, she was always naturally pale and tended to use spray tans to make up for the translucency of her skin.

“It’s called being Australian, baby.” Daniel cheekily grinned, holding her bum cheek and giving it a quick squeeze as soon as she sat. “Yeah, but…” y/n scooted forwards, playing with the strands of his hair. The Ibiza sea had somehow made his hair even curlier, even hers had a beachy wave to it that Daniel thought made her look like a mermaid (as he told her 5 times over). He thought she looked beautiful- he didn’t think she could get anymore beautiful until he saw her bikini cladded, in her natural form, cannon-balling off the side of the yacht they’d boarded for the night.

“You’re like so nice and dark, can’t you give some to me?” His eyes, fell to her chest, the baby pink pushing up the swell of her breasts. He just wanted to nuzzle his face deep inside of- “Daniel…” she warned.

“Right, sorry… yeah, I would if I could.” With his eyes back on her freckled face, she offered him a smile, nudging to leave his lap. Daniel’s hands tightened with a soft, “no.”

“What? You wanna have sex… again?” Her brow perked, Daniel felt hot under her gaze, and he couldn’t deny the semi that was growing in his swimming trunks.

“No- yeah.” He couldn’t even lie. They’d been at it like rabbits, and especially on this yacht, on the deck when nobody was watching, all over the bedroom, in the water (comment if you acc want me to write a smut based off this lmao). She was sore from the amount of action she’d had the past two days, but she wasn’t complaining, y/n just thought she needed to give certain areas of her body a rest.

“Daniel.” She groaned, head dropping on his shoulder. “Can’t help my girlfriends fucking sexy as fuck.” His lips pressed to the inside of her shoulder, at first she was about to shudder from the action, but the specific use of girlfriend threw her into a frenzy of excitement. “Oh, I’m your girlfriend now?” She tried to play it cool, but both of them could hear the giddiness oozing off her voice. “Uh huh… if you wanna be?” Daniel nodded up, a closed mouth smile growing on his face. “Yeah.” A giggle escaped her lips.

“Yeah? I already thought you were, you… sausage.” He teased, bouncing her slightly on his knee. “Mmmmh, whatever.” They shared a loving kiss, one that wasn’t helping Danny’s situation in his pants. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“Ok, babe. I’ll get in after you, I’m just gonna go back on deck with the lads for a bit…” The good thing about the pair of them was that they could spend as much time together as possible without getting sick of one another, Daniel felt like she was apart of himself that he’d been missing his whole life- not to sound cheesy. But spending their own time together was so important, and space for y/n felt vital, especially when she wanted to have silent time, scrolling through her tik tok. At least, she thought she wanted some time to herself. Things were going well until a specific video of an overwhelmingly recognisable yacht came up on a video. Her stomach immediately dropped, pictures of her and Daniel, engaging in nothing to explicit, but a few kisses, touches, hugging. Clearly somewhat intimate moments that they kept concealed to the public eye. She swiped furiously, concerned as to what else had been captured. Daniel untying her bikini top, the two of them making out…

Y/n felt her breathing intensify and skin prick with beads of sweat. The comments were what she feared the most- the exploitive pictures were guaranteed to bring unasked controversy.

A mixed response was guaranteed, of course people were shocked, some ecstatic, others doubtful of their age gap. It wasn’t that which bothered her, it was the intruding questions and statements of complete lies and assumptions that rattled her. It didn’t take long for tears to form when people began comparing her to Daniel’s ex’s. Questioning ‘what age’ the relationship started, pointing out insecurities on her body, commenting on their visible intimacy.

Y/n was shaking when Daniel returned into their bedroom. She froze, phone still in hand, automatically turning off her phone as though she intended to hide this from him. “Still in your towel?” He attempted to tease, reaching out to nudge it off her head. The lack of response had him confused, stepping forwards with a slight hesitation.

Daniel questioned if she was crying, before shaking it off, but when she sniffled he was falling to his knees in front of her. “Hey…” he crouched in front of the saddened girl. He reached out, both hands resting on her lap comfortably, feeling a punch in the chest when he caught sight of her tear stained face. “Somebody’s leaked pictures.” She blurted out, voice heavy with upset. Daniel felt his breath hitch.

Without saying another word she handed over her phone, allowing Daniel to see for himself. “Nothing like- really bad, but… I don’t know.” She watched his reaction through the corner of her eyes, using her towel to wipe at her damp eyes.

“Oh, y/n/n.” Daniel sighed. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” She let out a sad laugh. “It’s just- it’s so invasive and the comments-” her voice became choked up once again.

“Ah, babe, you know not to read them. Fuck all that, it’s not even important.” He slung an arm around her, pulling her instinctively into his chest. “Like the most people are fine- but I-i don’t care it’s just the awful ones, Daniel. How have- why has somebody followed us on a fucking boat?” Her torment was something that angered Daniel. Not towards her, but to whoever the fuck stalked them, whoever decided to be a creep and take these pictures of her- not to forget the people who sent spiteful messages.

“People just like to ruin it for their own gain. I’m sorry, baby.” Again, Daniel sighed, feeling a little lost for words as y/n cried quietly in his arms. “Don’t-dont cry, y/n/n. C’mere.” She shuffled further onto his lap, wiping at her eyes in a subtle manner. “Like now my dad has to see that, everybody’s just gonna see and-” her voice cut short to avoid becoming too distressed. Daniel felt the tension that began to grow in his muscles.

“I don’t know.” She managed to exhale after. Daniel pressed a lingering kiss to her head, and squeezed her again. There was a moment of silence which fell between the pair. Daniels mind now began lingering.

“What did they say?” He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help it.

“Just stupid shit.” He was already reaching back for her phone, glimpsing through a few of the weirder comments. “Oh, I can’t even read that shit.”

“Don’t read it then.” She muttered, biting down on her thumb. “Honestly fuck them.” Daniel inhaled, lifting up her cheek. One kiss was pressed to the rounder part of her cheek. A small, angelic kind of smile managed to peak through her sadness, even just for a second or so.

“I love you. So much, nothing in those comments will change that, will it?”

“No.” She agreed, swiping the last of her tears. “I’ll sort it out. Don’t worry.” He then nodded, a slight sense of reassurance filling her. “Are you sure?”

“Positive, baby. I’m not gonna let that slide, not when it’s upset you like this…”

————————————————————————

taglist: @dinodumbass @mccall-muffin @allabouthappiness @benbarneslut @ricciardhoe-3 @headinthecloudssblog @f1wintermoon13 @hrlzy @topguncultleader @victoriaholland @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @j-cat @lovzmez @laneyspaulding19 thankyou guys so much for commenting and following along I appreciate it, I love reading all your comments!!

#daniel ricciardo fanfiction #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #Daniel ricciardo #f1 x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #Daniel Ricciardo x Christian Horner daughter

[compacflt]

For the requests/open inbox, this may not be the lane you're looking for, but you made a throw a way mention in a response to the ask about Ice's enforcement of DADT that Bradley and Ice probably got into it at one point about Ice being totally okay with DADT as a policy (which I love your read on Ice being like, 'yeah, nobody should ask and nobody should tell. what's the problem here?') I would love to see that argument go down. Or honestly, just any Ice and Bradley interaction after the reconciliation that suits your fancy. I find that dynamic in your world super interesting. Bradley sees him as a father, Ice sees him as the person whose father I killed. I love the drama.

Five times Ice was so obviously Rooster’s dad + one time he explicitly wasn’t.

[Carole. 1994.]

He’s such a nervous man. Usually that’s not the word people associate with him. Nervous? Never! But he is. Carole Bradshaw’s more a religious woman than a spiritual one. She’s never put any stock into “chockras” or “ouras” or whatever the other girls her age were fooling around with in the late sixties and early seventies. But she does believe that you can understand a person just by looking at him or her, and when she looks at Tom Kazansky, she sees a little anxious creature, shivering in the cold, like one of those tiny spindly dogs who always needs a sweater. Maybe it’s her southern maternal instincts, something primal and animalistic inside her, I need to take care of you—and when he nudges her with a nervous shivering shoulder and whispers, “Can I bum a smoke?” —she reaches down to take his hand and says, “I only have one left. We’ll have to share.”

She knows she makes him nervous. His ears are red, and so’s the back of his neck. It’s early on a Saturday morning, and the church is crowded, and he’s self-conscious about the fact that she’s holding his hand. Good. It’s so rare she gets to make a man nervous anymore. She waves to Bradley, proud in his little striped button-down and his little blue bow-tie, where he’s lined-up with all the other aspiring pianists against the stage along the far wall, under the bare postmodern crucifix. The recital isn’t going to start for another five, ten minutes, and it’s organized by age, so Bradley’s somewhere in the middle. If Tom Kazansky needs a smoke, Carole Bradshaw will bum him a smoke.

They exit out the side door, and the low murmuring of the other proud parents in the church fades to the quiet of the alley. Birds chirping nearby. The sound of a latecoming car on gravel somewhere far away. Her cigarette and the flick of his lighter, her eyes on his mouth and his puff of smoke—it’s lit. He takes a drag, closes his eyes, then passes it to her. “Sorry to make you share,” she says, and she’s watching the red flush creep up the side of his throat with a silent pleasure. When she takes her own pull, she looks down to see that the filter’s gone the sweet red-pink of her old lipstick. Kind of like a kiss, sharing a cigarette.

“That’s okay,” he says. Nervous spindly little dog. “Uh, what’s he playing?”

“Beethoven. ‘Für Elise.’” Then, before he can think to judge, she goes on quickly: “It’s more complicated than you’d think. Goes up and down and all over the place.”

“It’s a good song,” Tom Kazansky says, “though I don’t know too much about piano.” He pauses. “I’m learning a little German, though. I think it’s E-leez-ah. She must’ve been an alright girl if Beethoven wrote a song for her.”

Carole Bradshaw doesn’t know what to say to that. So she says this instead: “Thank you for coming. It made Bradley—well, over the moon, I guess.”

Tom Kazansky smiles shyly. “Sorry Maverick couldn’t come. I know he wanted to.”

Of course he brings up Pete Mitchell. Drags her back into reality. “He’s in Washington again, isn’t he?”

“Correct.” He reaches out for the cigarette; she gives it to him. “TOPGUN’s biggest advocate. I keep telling him he should go into politics. I just talked to him yesterday—he told me he went to the Natural History Smithsonian on Wednesday—he bought Bradley a dinosaur picture book, I think. Does Bradley like dinosaurs?”

Carole Bradshaw shrugs. What nine-year-old boy doesn’t like dinosaurs, but… “He’s more into sea life these days. Whales, sharks, fish.”

“Some fish used to be dinosaurs, they think,” says Tom Kazansky, clearly just trying to fill the silence. Ears red, lips red. Smoke out of his mouth like a fire-breathing dragon.

Carole Bradshaw doesn’t know how much dinosaur history she actually believes. So she says, “It’s still really nice of you to come. You know, Bradley—Bradley thinks of you and Maverick as his—well, his fathers, I s’pose. So it’s nice for you to be here.”

She watches his reaction—just nervousness. Straight anxiety. He doesn’t meet her eyes, like she’s just kicked him in the ribs. He does not want to be Bradley’s father. 

She says, “You don’t have to sign any papers, Tom. You don’t have to put a kid seat in your car. I’m just saying. Don’t worry about it.”

He says, “I can hear the kids starting inside—we should probably go back in.”

So Carole Bradshaw drops the cigarette butt to the ground and steps on it with the bottom of her flat. They go inside, and wait for a kindergartener to finish an overly simple “Canon in D” to take their seats again. She takes his hand. He lets her. After another half-hour, Bradley sits down on the bench in front of the hand-me-down Steinway and busts out “Für Elise” without a single missed note. It still shocks her, sometimes, to watch him play—it still shocks her, sometimes, that she is the mother of all that talent. And now maybe Tom Kazansky is the father of all that talent. How did that happen?

At the end of the recital, Tom Kazansky lets go of her hand. She knew he would. Knew his fatherhood is only temporary. But he lets go of her hand to accept Bradley’s great-big hug in the parking lot: “Gosling, that was so good.” Bradley’s proud smile is missing a few teeth. It makes Tom Kazansky laugh.

And after he drops them off at home, and peels away with a wave and a smile, Carole Bradshaw lights another cigarette from the half-full pack she’d brought with her to the recital and brings Bradley out to the backyard so he can play and she can watch him. But before she lets him go, she looks down at him and says flatly, “If kids at school ask you about Uncle Tom and Uncle Pete—you need to tell them they’re just friends.”

And in his eyes, she can see the confusion of a little boy who hadn’t been aware that Tom Kazansky and Pete Mitchell were anything other than just friends—the confusion of a little boy learning about duplicity for the first time in his life. 

“Okay,” he says, so she lets him go.

—

[Maverick. 1998.]

“Don’t go easy on him,” Maverick hollers breathlessly over his shoulder, fishing around in the ice chest in the sand for two cans of Coors; “He just joined the J.R.O.T.C.; don’t go easy on him; he’s tougher than all your squadrons combined; beat him into the dirt…”

“Thanks, Uncle Mav,” shouts Bradley from across the volleyball court, where he’s getting initiated into one of the volleyball teams of younger fighter pilots. 

Maverick flashes him a thumbs-up and finds his T-shirt on the first bleacher bench, pulls it on with one hand, and then hops up the rest of the benches to sit with Ice, who’s got his CVN-65 ballcap on and a book open in his lap and is offering informal career advice to one of the other lieutenants: “Yeah, so, in my opinion, it’s all down to what you think you can stomach… If you want me to look over your C.V., I can totally do that—I think I’m free Monday at around thirteen-hundred, if you want to stop in to talk. Not a problem. Not a problem. Alright. See you later.” He watches the lieutenant go, then lolls his head over to look at Maverick, who’s tossing an ice-cold can of Coors up and down. “Hey. Good game. —Coors, Mav? This is an insult.” But he takes the offered can anyway, looking out onto the court, where Bradley—fourteen and just entering his beanpole phase of evolution—is currently spiking the ball. “Cool.” It’s a nice summer Saturday, a casual opportunity for the officers of Miramar to socialize with their families (Ice is wearing a golf shirt and jeans), and by now pretty much everyone knows that Maverick Mitchell’s raising his friend’s kid and that he and Captain Kazansky are good friends, so this is pretty nice. Not much to hide.

“C’mon,” Maverick says, popping open his own can, “you and I were having a scintillating conversation, a few minutes ago.” He’s hunting around for the sunscreen so the tops of his feet don’t burn to ashes in the sun.

“Scintillating. That’s a big word for you. Wow.”

“You’re rubbing off on me, Sir Reads-a-lot—”

“See, that’s funny,” Ice interjects, “because I seem to recall, before you so-rudely interrupted me to go play volleyball with the kids, I was telling you that it’s really not that interesting. It’s actually, Maverick, quite boring.”

“Well, I’m intrigued now. Go on. Finish it off, I wanna know.”

Ice slaps his book shut and gives the long tired sigh of a man who is very self-conscious about the fact that he’s about to turn forty. He pops the tab on his can of Coors and huffs in exasperation when it foams all over his hand. “I mean it, my family history’s really not that interesting. Typical eastern-European immigrant shitshow. U.S. officials change one letter in our last name and everyone loses their goddamn minds… Actually, that story might be apocryphal, I keep forgetting which former Soviet Socialist Republic I’m actually from, I just can’t remember, all the borders got redrawn so many times, one of ‘em…”

Maverick smiles and pulls his TOPGUN ballcap back down onto his head, tugs the brim down low over his eyes so he can tip his head back and not go blind from the summer sunshine. He’d thought Ice would be reluctant to share his family history, but it turns out that most people are just afraid to ask him, and he’s actually pretty eager to talk, if you just ask. Maybe over-eager. He’s rambling. Maverick cuts him off: “Yeah, you do have a left curve to you, don’t you. Genetic.”

The dirty joke strikes Ice dumb for a second, but then he forges ahead, wisely choosing not to engage. He keeps going, oblivious to the fact that Maverick’s not really listening… “Anyway, my grandfather was Jewish, but he died literally the second he stepped foot in America, so it doesn’t count…my grandmother was Orthodox, crazy story how they ended up together; actually, that story’s probably apocryphal, too…she’s the one who raised me, pretty much. I told you that. She brought my dad out to Southern California when he was a little kid, but I don’t know if you’ve noticed, So-Cal’s not exactly the Mecca of Orthodox churches or anything, so he wasn’t very religious at all… My mom was from Milwaukee, I think. Or maybe Minneappolis. Some kinda Protestant. Forget which kind. The preachy kind. But then she died and I didn’t have to go to church anymore, so I didn’t.”

“You just never believed?” Maverick mumbles, half-joking.

“Nah. I mean, I always had too many questions no one wanted to answer. For instance: okay, say you’re bad. Say you commit sin…”

“I’ve never sinned, sir. You’re talking hypothetically.”

“Right. Me, neither. Hypothetically speaking. So you go to Hell. Well, the devil’s there, too, ‘cause he’s a sinner, too. But why’s he want to punish you? What does he get out of it? You’re both in the same boat!”

“Probably a sexual thing,” says Maverick, watching the purple-green imprints of the sun dance around behind his eyelids. “He probably gets off on it. The devil, I mean.”

Ice laughs and laughs. “Sure. Try saying that in front of my mom and see if you survived. I learned pretty early on that they don’t want you to be too curious. So I kept all my questions to myself.” He’s also joking, not taking this super seriously, but that’s a pretty in-character answer. “What about you, Mav?”

“If I’ve told you my family’s history once, I’ve told you a thousand times…” That’s a joke. Maverick’s the one who doesn’t like talking about his family history. Ice hasn’t heard any of it, and for good reason. Maybe someday he’ll tell him about it. “Later. But, remember, I used to be Southern Baptist? Jesus, I was serious into that shit, Ice.”

Ice snorts. “Yeah, right. You.”

“Not joking. I had about eighty girlfriends between fourteen and eighteen, but that’s the most pious I’ve ever been. Lotsa loopholes to make my relationships biblical. Was thinking about being a youth pastor. —I’m not joking. It was my whole personality, for a while. Most of my childhood, anyway.”

Ice is still laughing in disbelief. “Oh, yeah? And then what happened?”

Maverick smiles. “…Got hooked on sinning.” 

“…Yeah,” Ice replies, and Maverick can hear the nervous smirk in his voice, “I guess I’d know a little something about that.”

And normally that would be the end of the conversation. But Maverick’s feeling a little sun-drunk, a little giddy, and he’ll never, ever, ever grow out of instigating stupid arguments with Ice just for the fun of it. From beneath the brim of his ballcap he mutters, “…You think Carole’s brainwashing her kid?”

Ice huffs a laugh, and says through a lazy yawn, “I’m not militant in my atheism, no.” But he, also, will never, ever, ever grow out of instigating stupid arguments with Maverick just for the fun of it, and his curiosity’s clearly been piqued. He stews in it for a second before he snaps, “Do you think Carole’s brainwashing her kid?”

“I’m just saying she has him readin’ outta the Bible, like, five times a day. She sends him to church camp. Does something to a kid.” He has no dog in this fight, but this is fun.

“And what did it do to you?” Ice says, reaching down to shove his shoulder good-naturedly. “Weren’t you just telling me not five seconds ago how you used to be the perfect model of Christian charity?” Maverick mumbles a retort sleepily; Ice pushes on through it: “Bradley’s a human being. Either he grows out of it like you did, or he doesn’t, in which case, whatever, land of the free. That’s the First Amendment. You swore an oath to the Constitution. Maybe you should read it.”

“I’ve read it. I’m not Congress, shithead. How’s it go, you want me to cite it to you directly, ‘Congress shall make no law…’ actually, I don’t know what comes after that. Got me there.”

“Don’t call me shithead, dipshit. And whatever. Good thing he’s Carole’s kid and not yours, then. He’s got a mom who wants him to go to church. It’s up to him if he wants to listen to her or not. That’s growing up.”

Maverick tips up the brim of his ballcap to look at him, sprawled out in the bleachers very unprofessionally for the CO of this entire volleyball court, and snaps back, “Well, he’s a little bit my kid. The same way he’s a little bit your kid.” 

Ice just flicks his sunglasses down onto his nose and purses his lips and neither confirms nor denies this allegation. 

They watch the game together for a while, Ice’s toes pressed against Maverick’s lower back discreetly, trying to work their way under Maverick’s T-shirt. Until one of the young pilots approaches a few minutes later: “Sir!” / “What’s that kid’s call sign again?” Ice mumbles to Maverick, prodding him with his foot. / “Hooker.” / “No shit.” / “Sir!” says Hooker again. / “Which one of us, kid?” says Maverick. / “Captain Kazansky, sir. We’ve got a spot opening up. Wanna play?”

Maverick looks up at Ice expectantly. Ice sighs and harrumphs and waffles for a minute— “I’m too old for this shit.”

“Sir,” says Maverick, “it’s not a competition, but if it were, I’d be winning.” 

Lighting the fire of competition under Ice like that is always a good strategy. He rolls his eyes, but immediately stands and tugs off his shirt and rolls up the cuffs of his jeans; “I’ll only play if I can play with the kid.” 

So Maverick watches the teams get scrambled again with a smile, and sits up to watch Ice join Bradley in the sand. Bradley’s only just now taller than Ice, and Ice clearly isn’t used to having to reach up to curl an arm around his shoulders to strategize, his eyes narrowed like an eagle’s, staring down the competition. Maverick can read his lips from across the pitch: Alright, kid, I’ve been watching for a while, and I think I know these guys’ strengths and weaknesses…okay, here’s what we’re gonna do… And the game begins when Bradley spikes the ball.

Ice won’t always be this fun, this down-to-earth, this human. The admiralty and the guilt and the grief of the years to come will strip it all away from him, bring him back to the cold, remove him from his own humanity. And maybe, even if it isn’t conscious, Maverick can recognize that, right now, watching Ice dive into the sand with a laugh: this summer sunshine is only temporary. It’s gonna have to end at some point. So he doesn’t take it for granted. He keeps his eyes open and watches and tries to commit it to memory.

And after the game, Ice and Bradley come over so Ice can finish his beer and put his shirt and his baseball cap back on, and Maverick can make fun of them for losing. And: “What were you guys talking about for so long before the game?” Bradley asks Maverick with a grin.

“Whether or not your mom’s brainwashing you,” Maverick says.

“Oh!” Bradley says mildly. “…No, I don’t think so!”

“Oh, that’s a great start,” Ice laughs. “You would’ve made a great Soviet. No, I don’t think I’m getting brainwashed. Hey, by the way, Gosling, if you want a beer, Maverick and I won’t tell anyone.”

“Aw, really?” whispers Bradley. “Thanks, Uncle Ice!” And he races down the bleachers towards the ice chest in the sand.

Maverick watches Ice watch him go, fingers still pinching the brim of his CVN-65 ballcap, clearly worrying about something the way Ice always is. 

Then he looks down at Maverick, stares openly for a minute, and says, “You don’t think we’re teaching him to rebel too much, do you?”

—

[Bradley. 2000.]

“Kiddo! You’re here early!” It was Uncle Ice, walking through his own front door, catching a glimpse of Bradley watching the Astros-Nats game on the TV. He was still in uniform, but smiling wide, and he set his bag down near the couch and leaned over to ruffle Bradley’s hair goodnaturedly.

“Practice ended early today.”

“Oh, okay. Cool. Maverick should be home soon, still at work—your mom’ll be here in about an hour—she told me to put the chicken breasts in the oven, but you know me, every time I use this oven I set off the fire alarm, so you oughta help me with that…”

“And,” Bradley said, watching Uncle Ice wash his hands in the kitchen sink, “I got here early because I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh, sure!” chirped Uncle Ice. Then he paused, sensing a trap. “What about?”

“Advice,” Bradley mumbled. He took a deep breath, and stood to follow Uncle Ice into the kitchen “I was just—I was just curious. If you had any advice for me joining the Navy. You know, with me being gay, and all. How do I—I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. It’s kinda been weighing on me. Do you have any advice?”

Uncle Ice was still drying his hands off on a kitchen towel. Rubbing them red and raw. And when he raised his head to speak, there was something dull and startled in his eyes: “I don’t, um—no, I don’t—I don’t know anything about that. —You should ask Uncle Maverick about that.”

“I did,” Bradley said desperately, because he had. Yes, he’d gone to Uncle Mav first. “He—he told me to talk to you.”

“…Oh,” said Uncle Ice, now standing in front of a shelf to return one of his books to it. This surprised him. Maybe hurt him a little. “No. I—I, I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“But—”

“And there are probably better people to ask than me or Maverick. I—I don’t know—that’s not really my…I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

Uncle Ice swallowed, put the book back on the shelf, then clasped his hands together and set them on the shelf, too, as if leaning over his captain’s desk to chastise someone. He blinked for a long moment. Clearly shifting gears. Becoming someone else so easily. Why couldn’t Bradley do that? “But I can tell you this,” he said, and his voice had gone grave and dim, “and I know you and I don’t always see eye-to-eye on politics—but I can tell you this, professionally, because I respect you, and I care about you, a lot—you’re going to have to keep it a secret.”

Dismayed, Bradley said, “Why?”

“Why’s a funny question to ask about something like this,” said Uncle Ice curtly. He shrugged. “Why? Because it’s the law. That’s why.”

Bradley swung his bat at the hornets’ nest. This was always dangerous with Uncle Ice. “It shouldn’t be a law. Don’t you think?”

“Doesn’t matter what I think. It’s the law. And we get paid to enforce the law, internationally speaking. And the military doesn’t work if personnel refuse to follow the rules in broad daylight. So.” He trailed his fingertip along the spines of all his precious books, then eventually found a different one, started flipping through it absentmindedly. “And even if it weren’t the law, it’d still get enforced extrajudicially. You know what that means?” He did that, when he was intentionally being cruel; used big words that Bradley didn’t know to make himself sound smarter. “It means outside the law. The way people talk to you. The way people respect you or don’t respect you. And this business, the one you want to go into, is all about respect. Being a pilot is kind of like being a knight: you have to be noble, you have to be honorable, you have to respect your service and your adversaries and yourself. And because I respect you, and because I care about you a lot, I’m just telling you the truth—you’re going to have to keep it a secret.”

Bradley blinked. There was something crushing and overwhelming about the truth—maybe the fact that it was the truth, maybe the fact that he hated the fact that it was the truth. It made sense. But it also meant his future was unspeakably bleak. He tried to speak over the lump in his throat when he said, “Yeah. That’s what Maverick told me, too.” And what he’d wanted to hear from Uncle Ice was that Uncle Mav was telling a lie. 

Something went soft and slightly wounded in Uncle Ice’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” Uncle Ice said gently. “I wish I could give you better advice than that. But that’s all I know. I don’t know any more than that.”

“Don’t you want to know more than that?”

“No.”

And thus did the generational gap widen into a chasm. 

—

[February 2003.]

Dear SN Bradshaw, / Please call/email/write me back when you get a chance. / Love Uncle Iceman.

…

[August 2003.]

Dear AN Bradshaw, / I hope you’re doing all right. I hope at some point you and I can get in touch to talk. Please let me know if there is some other address I should be sending my letters to. I am not sure if they are finding you. / Love Uncle Iceman.

…

[May 2004.]

Dear AN Bradshaw, / I wanted to congratulate you on your acceptance to college. Yours is a very good AE program & you should feel very proud. Please let me know if there’s anything you might need as you prepare to start your first year. / Love Uncle Iceman.

…

[August 2010.]

Dear LT Bradshaw, / I wanted to let you know that I’ll be at NAS Oceana for a conference from December 6-9. I understand that’s your neck of the woods—would you be interested in having dinner with me on either that Tuesday or Wednesday night? I would love to hear how you’ve been doing. You can reach my secretary at the number below. / Love Uncle Iceman.

…

[October 2014.]

Dear LT Bradshaw, / We Maverick and I want to wish you a Happy Birthday 30th Birthday. We heard you are deployed out in the Atlantic now—we hope you will be able to enjoy the enclosed gift card when you make it back to terra firma. Our updated personal cell numbers are below. / HAPPY BIRTHDAY! FROM UNCLE MAVERICK & Uncle Iceman.

…

“Haven’t heard back from the kid yet.”

“…You think we ever will?”

The longest silence.

—

[Pacific Air Type Commander Beau Simpson. 2016.]

You could see it in the way they held themselves. An utmost similarity. Aristocratic propriety. Maybe a little sense of entitlement: look how hard we’ve worked to be here. All three of them had it. More accurately: Captain Mitchell and Admiral Kazansky both had it, and had passed it down to their son.

“Captain Mitchell.” Everyone was watching. The sun had only just set; the sky was melting from horizon-red through orange and yellow and teal up to midnight black above them.

“It’s an honor, sir,” said Captain Mitchell, accepting Admiral Kazansky’s handshake. God, you’d never know it by looking at them. Half the people here on this Roosevelt flight deck knew about them, but they were so convincing that more people weren’t sure. TYCOM Simpson glanced at Rear Admiral Bates, who glanced back in confusion—I thought they were…? They were, TYCOM Simpson signaled, just abnormally good at keeping it a secret.

“Honor’s all mine, Captain,” said Admiral Kazansky, and he passed by without a second glance.

And when he made it down the line of aviators to Lieutenant Bradshaw—you could see it. The similarity in the way they held themselves. Straight and rigid and unyielding. Cold and dismissive beyond belief, even to each other. Admiral Kazansky held out a hand. Lieutenant Bradshaw took it, but refused to make eye contact. Quiet rebellion under the radar: Admiral Kazansky had taught him well. 

TYCOM Simpson glanced at Captain Mitchell, to gauge his reaction. And for once, he and Captain Mitchell were clearly thinking the exact same thing.

Like father, like son.

You could see it in their stubborn determination. How far they were willing to go. How hard they were willing to push. How long they were willing to hold their own hands to the fire, if it meant the familiar painful comfort of staying warm. “Ice-cold, huh?” TYCOM Simpson asked him the next morning, trying to pin down their strategy, trying to secure a guarantee that their family would do what their country asked of them, even if that meant death. Even if that meant the ultimate sacrifice.

“Only when I have to be,” replied Admiral Kazansky, which meant always, and—soon thereafter, he ordered Lieutenant Bradshaw to his death.

But also, Lieutenant Bradshaw went willingly, too.

“Dagger One is hit.”

“Dagger Two is hit.”

Loss is supposed to hit a man in stages. Isn’t that the truth? —Not so for Admiral Kazansky, whom grief obviously swallowed whole in just an instant. He did not break, or bend under its weight. Just stood there staring at the E-2D AWACS screen with wide wounded eyes—not disbelieving eyes. They were gone. Captain Mitchell and Lieutenant Bradshaw were gone. He was in no denial whatsoever. He had leapt straight to acceptance.

“Sir,” said TYCOM Simpson hesitantly, and he reached out to touch him—the stars on his shoulder—guide him back to reality—what must it be like, to lose a son?—to willingly forfeit your family?—

But before he could make contact, Admiral Kazansky drew a breath, moved away, and closed his eyes for just a second. Perfectly composed, even with the waters of grief closing over his head, even with three dozen observers in this C2 room all scrutinizing him for his response. Perfectly composed. How did he do it? How could he manage? How was he possibly still this proud?

“Vice Admiral Simpson,” he said calmly, “I relinquish my command to you, until you deem me necessary to return to my post.”

“Sir,” said Rear Admiral Bates, darting panicked, sympathetic eyes to TYCOM Simpson, but it was too late—Admiral Kazansky was already leaving the room. Head held high and steady. 

Some confusing weeks later, after Captain Mitchell and Lieutenant Bradshaw returned from the dead, TYCOM Simpson and Rear Admiral Bates would casually debrief the mission together in the lobby bar of the Waldorf-Astoria in Washington, D.C. No hard liquor, just beers. Just barely enough alcohol to give them an excuse to philosophize. “You think pride is a sin or a virtue?” TYCOM Simpson found himself asking, tracing the rim of his gilt-edged Stella Artois glass with a finger, after having recounted the above testimony.

“Neither,” said Rear Admiral Bates. “Gotta be a vice.”

“A vice.”

“Yeah. Good men die because of pride, bad men die because of pride…we send our sons to battle because of pride…wars are fought and won and lost because of pride… every war in human history, when you boil it down, begins when someone says, ‘You’re wrong and I’m right, and I’m proud of my own righteousness, proud enough to kill, proud enough to die, proud enough to send my sons to die…’”

“Oh, okay. That’s the root of all human conflict, then, according to you, Warlock. Okay.”

Rear Admiral Bates smiled and laughed at himself, too. Pride, he mouthed. Then shook his head. “We’re a proud species. It’s our vice.”

TYCOM Simpson was thinking about the two proudest men he knew, Admiral Kazansky and Lieutenant Bradshaw, and wondered what it was, exactly, that had driven a wedge between them, you’re wrong and I’m right and I’m proud enough of my own righteousness to send you to your death/inflict my death upon you… And then he remembered the warnings he’d previously received about Lieutenant Bradshaw and Lieutenant Seresin and their open relationship, and then he remembered Admiral Kazansky coldly shaking Captain Mitchell’s hand… and he wondered if the wedge between them was exactly that: the matter of pride.

—

[Tom. 2018.]

“Merry Christmas and a happy new year, and all that,” says Pete, raising his glass and reaching over the dining table to clink rims with Tom and then Bradley. “A good year! A really good year! —Sorry your guy couldn’t be here, Rooster. We’ll call him tonight before you go. Tell him we miss him.”

“Where is he again?” Tom asks.

“Washington,” Bradley says with a smile. “Big conference at the Pentagon. I’ll see him next week.”

“You know,” Pete says with a sly grin directed at Tom, “I’ve never actually heard the story of how you two got together.” 

“Oh,” Bradley says, shrugging as he tears open a dinner roll, “not that interesting. Pretty much what you’d expect. Inter-squadron competition-turned-sexual tension. Not exactly within regs, but we did meet each other before D.A.D.T. got repealed, so it wasn’t like we’d’ve ever been within regs, either…” (All the while, Tom’s smirking over the rim of his wine glass at Pete, No, Mav, I’m not gonna tell him I had them reassigned to the same boat…) “We broke up when I got sent to TOPGUN. But we figured it out eventually.”

“Glad you did. Sorry he couldn’t be here.”

Bradley hesitates, then says, “You know what I just realized? I never heard how you two got together…! You’ve never told me that story!”

Tom glances over at Pete, do you want to take this or shall I, and when Pete motions all yours, he sighs and says, “Uh, we don’t really know. We’ve just been telling people nineteen-eighty-six because it’s easy. But in a much more real sense…” He thinks about it, then shrugs. “Whatever. If you really want to know. In nineteen-ninety-three, right after I came back to San Diego to take command at Miramar, he and I had a drunken one-night stand. By accident. Which then turned into twenty-five years of accidental one-night stands. So.”

“Oh, c’mon. You guys bought a house together.”

“Yeah, that,” says Pete, “that was, uh, to facilitate the accidental one-night stands. Make it more convenient for everyone.”

“Cut out the middle-man,” Tom supplies, then shrugs again at the look on Bradley’s face. “That’s our story, kid. It’s not super romantic. We weren’t thinking about it that way. We didn’t know how.”

Pete raises the wine bottle to refill Tom’s glass—though it’s still halfway full—and then raises his eyebrows when he “notices” the bottle’s empty. Changes the subject as he stands: “Okay, what’s everyone feeling? Red, white, what’s next?”

“Red,” Tom says absently. “Anything big, I guess—first cab you see…” But then he thinks about it, and he amends his order before Pete leaves earshot: “Actually—we’ve got that petite sirah we gotta drink—two-thousand-four. Israeli. Might be somewhere in the back, sorry. But now’s a good occasion, I think, to bust it out for the holidays. No reason to save it.”

“Israeli sirah two-thousand-four,” Pete repeats, “okay. I got that.” 

Then he steps outside, leaving Tom and Bradley alone. It’s not awkward—they’ve worked really hard over the last two years to make it not-awkward, after the mission—but human beings are human beings. Prideful, stubborn creatures. There will always be a little guilt between the two of them, and a little blame.

“I have to be honest,” Tom says after a moment, interested in being honest for Bradley’s sake, “sorry we don’t have a better story to give you, about us. It is a little hard to talk about.”

“Why?”

“Well—we don’t know the words we’re supposed to use, for one. It’s your generation who sets the standard for that kind of thing. You young people. We’re a little out-of-date. And…well. I guess we’re just jealous of you. It’s hard to talk about.”

“Jealous?” Bradley repeats quizzically. “Why?”

Tom leans back in his chair and really thinks through what he wants to say. This is one of those impromptu speeches you never really intend to make, but are probably still important to get off your chest. “Maverick and I,” he starts carefully, “will never stop feeling guilty about what we did to you. Ever. You need to know that.” And when Bradley scoffs and huffs and tries to interrupt, he goes on, “Not just pulling your papers from the Academy. It goes back further than that. We will always feel like we deprived you of your father. The merits of that feeling are debatable, sure, but it’s a fact of life. A fact of our lives, anyway. And it’s dictated so much of how we live, and how we’ve lived, over the past thirty years. Part of the reason I came back to Miramar in nineteen-ninety-three was to be with you and your mom. Because I felt I owed you that, in return for what I’d taken.”

“You didn’t kill him,” Bradley says. “Or, at least, I never blamed you for killing him. You or Maverick both. You guys were my dads. You didn’t take anything from me. —Excepting the obvious, the Academy, but that was mostly my mom, I guess, so, whatever.”

“I’m just telling you what our lives have been like since the day I met you. Why we did what we did.”

“Okay. But I still don’t understand why you’re jealous.”

Tom smiles, a little faintly. “Because the other part of the reason I came back to Miramar in nineteen-ninety-three was to be with Maverick,” he says, “and I’m jealous of you because I didn’t recognize that at the time. —Everyone hopes, when they have kids—because, look, I’m not your dad, but you are my kid, really—everyone hopes they can bring their kid into a better world than the one they had when they were a kid, and we did. But no one prepares you for how jealous you get when your kid grows up in a better world than you did. I’m not sure people your age understand how hard it was for us when we were your age.”

“I do.”

“Sure, but I don’t think you do. I—I didn’t…” He sighs. “I never meant to fall in love with Mitchell. He never meant to fall in love with me. There certainly were men in relationships in the Navy back then who could make it work—we weren’t those guys. We looked down on those guys. Most people did. And when you were an officer, your job security and your paycheck relied on your subordinates’ respect for you. If we’d rocked the boat, traded away our respect for our relationship, well, we’d have each other, but we’d be out of a job. And then, if we’d been fired—what did we kill all those people for? For nothing! What a waste of all the lives we took! It wouldn’t have been honorable. Would’ve disrespected the Navy, our careers, the men we killed. So we didn’t talk about our relationship. You know that. Didn’t talk about who we were, or what we were doing, or why, because we were afraid of losing our own honor. Didn’t talk about it until the day you two died and came back from the dead. That’s what it took. Maverick still hates talking about some of that stuff, all the labels, all the words—that’s why I sent him to get a bottle at the back of the fridge, he might be out there a while…”

“Cunning,” Bradley says softly, but leaves the space open after he speaks.

Tom looks away. “Maybe this is getting too deep into the weeds. I’m just trying to tell you what it’s been like for us. Not sure how much of this you want to hear.”

“All of it. —All of it.”

Tom clears his throat. “…Well, Maverick keeps trying to convince me that we never wasted any time. And I know there is some truth to that—we didn’t start out liking each other at all—even if we’d been as brave as people your age are nowadays, even if we’d been open with each other about that kind of stuff, we still probably wouldn’t have ended up together. I mean, we really didn’t like each other. Especially right after your dad died, and especially after you left, in two-thousand-two. So maybe it was better for us in the long run that we didn’t talk about it. But I look back on the thirty years I’ve spent with him, and…it still all feels like a waste to me.” Maybe he really is too deep into the weeds. But he just wants Bradley to understand. “Look, Mitchell is, beyond any possible shadow of a doubt, the love of my life. Always has been and always will be. Right? —I just wish I’d known that at the time. I’m jealous of you because you’re exactly the age I was when I came back to Miramar to be with you and your mom and Maverick, and you’re already married, and you won’t ever have to sacrifice any of your honor for your marriage. You’re one of the most respected men in the Navy.”

“So are you, Ice, and you’re also married to another man.”

“I’ll remind you, though it hurts a little, that I’m almost exactly a quarter-century older than you, and you and I got married within a week of each other. I had to wait for times to change.” He holds Bradley’s gaze for a moment, then finishes the last of his dinner and sets his fork down on his plate. “So, if you were ever wondering why Mav and I are a little bitter around you and Jake, well, it’s because we are.”

“Oh,” says Bradley. “See, I always thought it was just because you and Maverick are both notoriously bitter people.”

“We are,” Tom admits through a laugh. Then he continues, “But—you should also know how proud of you we both are. How proud of you we’ve both always been. We’re not very brave men—well, we are, of course, but maybe not in the way that matters. It’s pretty gratifying to have a kid who’s braver than you are. Every parent’s dream, whether we want to admit it or not. You’re brave enough for all of us.”

It’s at this moment that Pete opens the garage door and sticks his head inside and hollers, “Ice, I can’t find it. What about a merlot? Can we do a merlot?”

“No, baby, the sirah,” Tom answers without turning his head. “It’s on the second shelf, you might—have to rearrange some of the bottles—we have too much wine. We need to drink more, me and you.”

“Not a problem,” says Pete, and he shuts the door again.

“It’s on the third shelf,” Tom tells Bradley in an aside. “He’ll find it eventually. He would’ve tried to change the subject six times by now. —The previous Secretary of the Army—he actually just got married this week, I think; I need to send a card—also gay. He and his partner invited Maverick and me out to dinner the last time we were in D.C. Most uncomfortable I’ve ever seen Mav in my whole life. Asking us questions like, ‘How did you guys get together…?’ ‘Was it easier for you guys because you were in the Navy…?’ ‘When did you…know…?’” When Bradley laughs, Tom does, too. It’s really nice, it turns out, to joke about this stuff with someone who understands. “We just made our answers up out of thin air. I was uncomfortable too, admittedly. That’s what I’m saying. Mav and I never learned the vocabulary to answer questions like that.”

Bradley starts taking their plates to the sink. What a good kid. “You know,” he says from the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder when Tom joins him at the counter, “it’s so funny you bitch that you and Mav don’t have a romantic love story, or whatever. When I was a kid, you and him were literally the pinnacle of romance.”

“Oh, really.”

“Yeah. There’s something romantic about the secret, too. When Jake and I made our relationship official—the first time—I begged him to keep it a secret just for a little while. You know; it was sexy, for a few minutes! Something only he and I knew!”

“And you immediately discovered how awful it is, I’m sure,” Tom says noncommittally. “I’m jealous of you that you learned that lesson young. —Yeah, real romantic. Maverick and I could’ve ended each other’s careers fourteen thousand times over. Real romantic.”

“And trusted each other not to,” Bradley points out—

—which makes Tom reconsider. 

Yeah, okay, maybe it’s a little romantic. The way Grimm’s fairytales, once you wipe away all the blood, are just a little romantic. “I’m of the opinion that the only thing getting old is good for is looking back on your life through rose-colored glasses. Sure. Historical revisionism it is. It was a little romantic.”

“What’s a little romantic?” says Pete, stepping into the kitchen and triumphantly brandishing his 2004 petite sirah; “Have I missed something funny? —It was on the third shelf, by the way. Could’ve told me that before I went and reorganized the whole fridge.”

Tom graciously accepts the half-annoyed kiss to the cheek, and answers, “Nothing you would’ve laughed at, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, one of those conversations,” says Pete, hunting around in the drawer for the corkscrew. “If you were planning on continuing, I can go out and rearrange the wine bottles by region instead of by year—” and scoffs when Tom kisses him back to reassure him, conversation’s over.

“Did you know,” Bradley says, “your husband is now openly calling you the love of his life?”

“Oh, yeah,” says Pete with a smile, popping the cork from the bottleneck, “he tells me that all the time. Nothing new.” Tops up their glasses, then deftly changes the subject: “Oh, gosh. I never asked. This is the big news. How are you and Hangman enjoying SOUTHCOM?”

“Oh, God,” says Bradley, rolling his eyes. “Let me tell you…”

“I think we did good,” Pete says later that night—they’re alone now, so he’s fine talking—as he tugs loose the tucked sheets to clamber into bed, and when Tom moves to turn off the light he adds, “No, you can keep reading.”

Tom sets his book down onto his chest and pulls his glasses off anyway. “Well, you and I are known for doing ‘good,’” he muses after a second. “We’re pretty universally renowned for being good at stuff. But, regarding what in particular? —Raising our kid?”

“Yeah. We did good.”

Actually, they didn’t do very well at all. But of course that’s not what Pete means. Pete means: it���s shocking and stunningly fortunate that they did as poorly as they did and still somehow ended up with such a good kid. Tom’s looking up at the ceiling and feeling very small. “How did that happen? Genuinely, how did that happen? I did always build getting married into my plan for my life—but I never thought far enough ahead to consider having kids. And now you and I have a kid who’s in his thirties. How’d that happen? I remember when he could barely walk!”

Pete yawns and rolls over onto his side and closes his eyes. “You and I have a kid who earned a Medal of Honor.”

“I know exactly how that happened” —and doesn’t like to think about it too much. “I suppose we’re just a family of overachievers. A lot of failing upwards, you and me. Somehow we failed our way upwards into a very happy lifelong relationship, a superstar kid…a few dozen medals each, ourselves…”

“That’s life,” says Pete sleepily.

“That is not most people’s lives. You’re aware that our lives look nothing like the average person’s life, right? You understand that?”

“That’s our life.”

Tom considers this. Yeah, it is their life. Wild how that happens. 

He smiles at the singular word life, sets his book on the nightstand, presses a kiss to Pete’s bare shoulder, and turns off the light.

#happy Father's Day! #some light discussion of religion in this one but u should be used to that with me #this one is long bc it hits a LOT of prompts sry it took a minute #going thru my inbox: for this anon obv #and FTAW (for the anon who) wanted more competitive icemav #for the FOUR anons who wanted ice and bradley to talk about queerness in the navy #FTAW wanted rooster to explain how hangster came to be #FTAW wanted more ice breaking the rules (‘management tier asshole’ lol) #for the THREE anons who wanted more soft 90s icemav #which is hard for me to write bc those years are kinda boring #it’s literally just: they wake up together. Go to work together. raise their kid together. eat dinner together. fall asleep in the same bed #occasionally fuck. Keep it a secret. don’t talk about it. #for 5 years. like… narratively speaking it’s v boring but yeah they’re happy :) #FTAW wanted more of ices prenavy backstory (this isn’t really much but…) #FTAW wanted icemav’s relationship with religion #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #top gun maverick #top gun #icemav #top gun fanfiction #you guys sure love ur anonymity don’t u #i wanna know who’s sending in asks!!! my dms are open!!! Please come say hi!!! #there are some timeline issues wrt Carole in this one sorry. u can deal.

[thatdeadaquarius]

"Oh my gosh do you sound like a sim to them??"

Me trying to place myself in their shoes:

"Why the fuck do I sound like a villager in Animal Crossing-- ARE THEY HEARING ANIMALESE WHEN I SPEAK?!"

(A.k.a I saw the previous ask and thought wait a minute. Two different worlds. Languages so similar but so different....... We're basically speaking animalese in another game/world lmfao)

(Bonus: Creator!Reader knows this and takes full advantage as their payback. Traveller magically understands and speaks back causing further pyschic confusion. Pretty sure soke brains have been melted among linguistic students in Sumeru)

-Vine Boom

VINE BOOM MY BELOVED IM SO LATE TO ATTEND TO YOU!! :'(

It has been a minute and yet, you remain my love!! Thank you for your patience, have a little scenario as my thanks for that and submitting the cool idea <3

Me @ you: ♥ ( ॢᵕ n ᵕ (꒡ᵋ ꒡ღ) mwah! /p

this gif is just really cute thats why its here.

also i have very little to add so its short but only bc im ✨uncreative✨ atm and ur ask alone is funny enough lmao, so once again, a scenario bc vine booms just a genius all on their own ✨️

◇

😭so you mean 😭 as revenge 😭 for this awful deed 😭 done to your speech 😭 you just start EMBRACING IT 😭😭😭PLEAASEEE-

PLEASE the traveler understands it!! 💀

Also if anyone reads this im so sorry ive flooded the sagau tag with language shenanigans LMAO

◇

Ever since you realized that the entirety of Teyvat sounds like Sims to you, (and the subsequent awful reckoning that you sound the same to them 😭) 

You have finally mentally recovered enough courage, and desperately shoved any embarrassment deep into your soul, to try and think of what to do about it

♤

You quickly found that people had 3 types of reactions to your speech,

 

1. They try to understand the nonsense like you trying to understand their Simlish, it really doesnt work, you wish you could tell them to give up and just gesture at you instead:

(ALHAITHAM he keeps trying then giving up then trying again lol, Diluc, ZHONGLI, Sara, Albedo, Candace, Dehya she thinks she’s gonna get it THIS time she swears-, Eula, Gorou, GANYU she feels bad lmao, Jean, AYAKA, keqing, kuki, Nahida, ningguang, AETHER, Thoma, xinyan, XIAO)

◇

2. They act like you when you hear animal crossing characters speak 💀 you can see the “omg so cute” sparkle in their eyes:

(KAZUHA, kokomi, barbara, KAEYA, ZHONGLI again lol he tries to hide it but you can see the tiny smile everytime you walk over and start ranting at him bc ur bored, Faruzan, GOROU, AYATO, YAE MIKO, keqing, LISA, mika, mona, KLEE literally loves you and you can tell shes always trying to get you to say something lol, Ei (archon), Rosaria she always SMIRKS and ur just- 😳, CHILDE the little shit giggles at ur misery, LUMINE AND AETHER U CANT TRUST EITHER OF THEM- , THOMA, SCARAMOUCHE BUT HE’D NEVER ADMIT IT BUT HE ALWAYS IS OBVIOUSLY TRYING TO HIDE A TINY SMILE AND GOES A LITTLE PINK-!! SAME FOR XIAO LMAO)

◇

3. You know that tiktok audio thats like Isabella from Animal Crossing singing, and then someone’s like “uh-huh! YEAH! OKAY!!” yeah like that, but to you LMAO

(ITTO, Bennett, KAVEH, heizou, VENTI, Nilou she like nods after everything you say and makes sure you’re treated well in every conversation aw, qiqi, KLEE, Raiden (puppet) + Ei (archon), SHENHE no explanation needed, CYNO too, LUMINE, YELAN, yoimiya, yunjin)

♧

Alright i got tired sorry not everybody’s there lol^

So no matter the reaction, they all are a little bummed nobody can get you, 

…but then of. Fucking. Course. 

LUMINE/AETHER as ALWAYS get SPECIAL TREATMENT 

(there’s not a single person throughout all the nations, the archons, the allogenes, doesnt matter, who hasn’t felt a LITTLE pang of envy for this- bc as cute as you sound, goddamit they USED to understand you when you weren’t physically here, before you overcame the Universal Barrier AKA the computer screen lol)

AND THEY GET TO UNDERSTAND YOU.

The Sumeru linguistics department is grinding their teeth, Alhaitham straight up glares every time they translate for you lmao, Zhongli’s eye twitches at least once everytime they do so, Kazuha is literally trying to bribe them with cool places he’s seen that the traveler hasn’t so they’ll share the secret of how to understand you, Ningguang gets 10x chillier when they’re helping convos w/ you, Ei looks like she’s fucking pouting-

☆

Aether is just like 🤨?? For what?? I’m helping???

So confused he never gets what’s going on lol

✨

Lumine, on the other hand, is FULLY aware and smirks every time she’s so smug about it LMAO 

^ the embodiment of the cat surrounded by knives meme ^

☆

Ahhhh my exhibition is April 6th u guys!

May I finally rest in peace when that day comes 🪦

Cant wait to graduate and just have a regular job and not academia + deadlines 😭😫

Hope you guys have had a nice week or two!

Look out for more posts after the 6th :>

Safe Travels,

💀♒️

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist

Short one but hope its fun my beloved!! :)

#so cursed #take ur revenge yes vine boom the way u think #everytime i think a little too hard abt ur anon name i giggle bc its from the blunt lang au lmao #my askers big brains>>> anything i post #genshin impact #genshin sagau #sagau #my asks #genshin imagines #gender neutral reader #genshin isekai #genshin sagau ideas #genshin god reader #genshin impact sagau #genshin x reader #genshin reader insert #god i never remember all the tags i need to put dammit

[hyukalyptus]

guys remember when i freaked out about professor!yeonjun lmaooooooooo we back

cw. professor!yeonjun x adult!student!reader, pining, fluff!!! no smut. but still minors don’t talk to me or interact sorrryyy <3

professor!yeonjun who’s so hot but so dorky. teaches something rly mundane like…i dunno…chemistry or something lmao. he’s extended his office hours for you bc you’re particularly interested in the topic. and he just gets so excited talking about it. smiling at you while he pushes his glasses up >< and then yall suddenly find yourself in this tense eye contact. he clears his throat and “well, i think, uh…it’s getting late, we should probably go.” and you leave flustered, not even able to remember why you went to his office hours in the first place.

professor!yeonjun who noticed that you didn’t attend class the next day. you were too nervous. so he sends you a message (like he does with all his students!) asking if you’re okay. reminding you of his office hours the next day in case you needed to pick up some notes.

professor!yeonjun who’s eyes brighten when you knock on the door, standing to greet you, almost stumbling over something bc he’s so flustered. “hi!” “hi professor choi…sorry i missed class—“ and he just makes sure everything’s ok and you’re getting overwhelmed with the coursework. “nono- i’m okay. i, uh, it was just a headache.” “i’m glad you’re feeling better.” and it’s that intense eye contact again. “…you’re probably here for notes, hm?” “oh! yeah yeah. that’d be great.”

professor!yeonjun whose ears turn red. every. time. you make eye contact with him. and you definitely pick up on it. but having a crush on a professor is silly, no? he’s never been creepy or pushy in any way. you can just tell he has a lil teeny crush on you too. so you start getting a little brave. leaving smiley faces next to your name at the top of your scantrons. it takes him a while, but he eventually reciprocates. drawing a smiley face next to your score with his red pen.

professor!yeonjun who’s bummed during finals. will he ever see you again? he’s gonna miss you popping into his office to ask questions so you can watch him rant about his favorite topic. he’s gonna miss your lil giggles at his dumb jokes in class. no one else laughs at them. but when you go to turn in your final scantron, he’s so happy to see a post it stuck to it, looking up at you with bright eyes. but oh no, there’s another student. he better hide it real quick even though he hasn’t had the chance to read it yet. and you scurry off quickly, smirking to yourself.

professor!yeonjun who’s grading them back in his office, already forgotten about the post it. so when he sees it again, his heart races. since youre not my professor anymore :) 555-345-6789. and he’s so so flustered. but doesn’t rush into it. waits until grades are posted. you’ve almost lost hope. but then one day-

hi! this is yeonjun (professor choi lol). was wondering if you wanted to get coffee or something?

and he hits send, throws his phone, and runs away ehehehe.

#hp’s soft thoughts ☁️ #yeonjun soft hours #yeonjun ff #idk what to tag this ngl. #anyway- #yeonjun fic #yeonjun soft thoughts

[nostalgicish]

thinking abt fic ideas as someone who can’t write is painful…. like. i’m obsessed w modern aus rn

(i have a few mutuals that write so if you guys wanna……….. 👀 take inspiration from this…… 👀 tag me so i can read it !!)

Lance and Hunk work at a library and like to people watch, guessing what genres they like to read. a grunge/punk guy with the worst RBF walks in and they’re really surprised to see he’s checking out classic romance literature.

idk something with public transportation? like they take the same train/bus/subway every day but they never actually talk— just eyes that meet occasionally and a polite smile but nothing more. until one day, the other guy just.. stops showing up? and Lance is pretty bummed but what can he do? (and then he sees a familiar mop of black hair at the grocery store or a café or something and is like “!! it’s you!!”)

The trio go out to see the next installment of their favorite movie series, but Lance keeps sneaking out of the theater to buy more snacks (and definitely not to talk to the hot guy running the concession stand)

Keith works at a convenience store/gas station and this tall, beautiful man comes in occasionally, but no matter what he buys, he always always always gets a bag of candy that just so happens to be Keith’s favorite too— he always has a bag at his station so he can snack on it throughout his shift. One day, the man is in line without the candy and he honestly looks like shit— he’s definitely not his usual, happy self. Keith asks about the candy. The man replies, “Oh, i couldn’t find any today... You guys must be out.” So Keith gives him a bag from his stash. “You look like you need it more than me.”

Lance goes to the campus library to check out books for his literature class, but every single time, without fail, someone else has taken the last copy. “What do you mean someone else checked out the last copy?? Who??” “That guy.” *insert Keith* (it would be funnier if Keith isn’t even reading them for class, he’s just reading classic literature for funsies)

Lance checks out a novel from the library and there’s an envelope inside with a name written neatly on the front of it. it looks like it’s important so he resolves to find and return the envelope to K. Kogane, whoever that is (another library one?? yeah sorry idc i love public libraries and books and love stories . sue me.)

Keith is a barber/hairdresser and Lance’s regular stylist isn’t available so he’s stuck with Keith -OR- Lance takes his nephew to get his hair cut and Keith looks kinda scary but he’s actually?? really good with kids?? (insert mullet joke here)

Keith meets Pidge’s friends from a different class. Keith is super into Pidge’s hot, tall friend but is discouraged from acting on it because he’s constantly glued to Hunk’s side and making comments like “this is why I love you, Hunky” and (wrongfully) assumes they’re dating (but Lance is just that kind of guy! yk! he says “ily” to his friends all the time!)

bartender Keith is so good but think abt bartender Lance……… yeah….. need i say more??

#ao3 #fan fiction #fan fic ideas #klance #voltron #vld #keith kogane #lance mcclain #lol #blorbo #blorbo from my shows #klance fic #seriously though #if you guys write abt any of these i want to know

[imyourbratzdoll]

Hi I was wondering if you could do a Chris evans x reader imagine where reader is pregnant and they do two maternity photoshoots (one personal and the other for people magazine) and they do cute poses together like him cradling her bump, their foreheads touching, him on his knees resting his head on her bum with her hand caressing his face or going through his hair and its both outside/indoors then for the personal one one of the pictures is her in a milk bath and chris watches in awe how she has that pregnancy glow and falls in love with her all over again then they do an interview for the people magazine shoot and time skip to where they do a little photoshoot for their baby girl and put her in cute poses (like in a little wooden crib or something)and with her (also could you include for one of the photos chris is shirtless and puts her on his muscle flexing and then holds her to his chest and she's touching his bird tattoo then one other photo is of reader holding her head/neck and he's holding her feet and they kiss her head/feet just super fluff 💖 (also sorry its a long request)

hey honey, sorry I didn't add as much, I didn't really know where to go, but I hope you like it!

summary - you and andy are interviewed about your pregnancy photos.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You and Andy smiled as you watched the photos the two of you had taken while you were pregnant. The interviewer sitting across from you had tears in their eyes before facing you both, ready to ask questions. “That was beautiful! How you two posed with each other and the settings! Andy, I can see you have a few tears. I don’t blame you!” The woman smiles. 

Andy chuckles, wiping his eyes and then grips your hands. “Yeah, creating those was a beautiful moment. Honestly, doing this photo shoot with my pregnant wife was a wonderful experience. We had seen many poses and wanted to give them a try, and as you can see, it turned out great.” He turns and looks at you with so much love in his eyes, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on your plump lips.

“And there are more photos we did after the pregnancy!” You smile, feeling proud of the photos. 

“Oh yes! We did get those. Let’s have a look!” The woman turns and gestures for the photos to appear. A bunch of pictures of you and Andy holding your newborn baby girl, different poses, and so much love pouring through them. “Oh my god! These are adorable!” She whips around and stares at you both with wide eyes. “There’s also a very hot yet sweet photo that you did with your daughter, and I think I need to share it with the world.”

Andy blushes as the photo appears. There he is, shirtless, flexing his biceps while you hug your daughter between you two, and the sweetest moment is when she cups his cheek with her chubby little hands. The interviewer switches photos, showing another where your daughter touches your matching bird tattoos. He practically weeps at how adorable your daughter is. Andy leans over again and brings you into a passionate kiss. “I love you, baby.”

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#evansgalask #imyourbratzdollasks #imyourbratzdollwork #andy barber imagine #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #chris evans x female reader #andy barber #andy barber angst #andy barber fanfic #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber fic #andy barber fluff #andy barber imagines #andy barber x fem!reader #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x you #andy barber au #chris evans x reader #chris evans angst #chris evans blurb #chris evans character #chris evans drabble #chris evans fan fic #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fandom #chris evans fanfic

[prettyyoungandbored]

Be Careful

Pairing: Johnny Knoxville x Reader

Warnings: language, slight fluff, female reader, idk

Author’s Note: I have no business writing this, but I did. So yeah.

NOT MY GIF

The alarm clock read 1:15 A.M. as Y/N exhaled softly.

Her eyes darted back to the television where some black and white movie played. She was half paying attention to it, her mind elsewhere and eyes mostly shifting between the clock and her cell phone.

She was invited to go to the bar with the guys, but she declined, exhausted from spending the day organizing their medical records. She shouldn’t have offered, but considering how frequent the trips to the hospital were, she figured it would be useful for each of them to have a binder that contained important medical documents in the event of an emergency.

Jeff was beyond thankful for it and she was happy to help considering Johnny wouldn’t let her do any stunts lately.

Even though Johnny was a pro at what he did, she still worried. Going through his medical binder was a kick in the stomach for her. His was the most personal considering he was her fiancé. She often worried when she got calls from the guys if it was going to be that “one call.” When they called “action” and she watched Johnny begin, she said a mental prayer begging for him to make it out alive.

The door opened and Johnny appeared, smiling.

“Hey there, cutie,” he greeted her, before bending down to untie his red converse. “Thought you’d be asleep.”

“I tried but just couldn’t seem to keep them closed,” she said, reaching over to turn the light on for him. “Did you guys have fun?”

“Sure did,” he replied, throwing off his jacket and tossing it onto the chair in the corner. “You know how it is. I wish I could say you didn’t miss much, but we spent the night helping get Tyler the PA laid.”

She cracked a smile. “It’s the least you boys could do considering you made him mud wrestle Bam.”

He laughed. “That was the logic.”

He pulled down his jeans before crawling into bed beside her in his boxers and graphic tee. He propped his elbow up, resting his cheek against the palm of his hand.

“I really did miss you tonight,” he said, using his other hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I was a little bummed you didn’t come out with us.”

“I know.” She exhaled. “Honestly, I just needed to decompress.”

“Seemed like you were having an off day,” he noted. “You wanna talk about it?”

“I know you know what you’re doing and I trust you,” she said. “It’s important to me that you know that. It’s just, going through your medical records was a hard pill for me to swallow. I get worried that one prank will be one that either kills you or leaves you with some permanent injury or that these injuries eventually…”

She paused, realizing how pathetic she sounded. She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I-.”

“Don’t apologize for that,” he said. “I’m fucking serious. Don’t.”

“No but-.”

“No - hey, look at me. Open your eyes and look at me.”

She opened her eyes to find him smiling at her. The same smile that made her weak in the knees when she first saw it.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said. “I know it’s a lot for you, and I can’t thank you enough for standing by me and putting up with this shit even when it’s hard to deal with.”

“It’s not that I deal with it. It’s just me getting worried because I love you.” She gave him a small smile. “I told you I’m not going anywhere and I meant it. No amount of concussions or broken limbs or any other injuries is gonna change that. All I ask that you be careful, ok?”

“I will,” he promised, kissing the top of her head. “But only because I think you’re cute.”

She snorted. “That’s the only reason, huh?”

He nodded. “Pretty much. It’s really the only reason I’m marrying you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then I guess it’s ok for me to say I’m only marrying you because the sex is great.”

He shrugged. “Works for me. Now, c’mere.”

He pulled her body under his, peppering her face with quick kisses. “Just one more week then you and I head off to Vegas.”

“Having second thoughts?”

“Never. I’m all in, baby.” He pulled his head back for a sec. “Are you?”

“Not a chance, Clapp. I’m in it for the long haul.” She paused. “Unless, of course, I decide to marry the Elvis impersonator instead. I’ll figure it once we get there.”

#johnny knoxville #johnny knoxville x reader #jackass

[chloecherrysip]

all the pain will change into a memory of when we were amazing (mario & luigi-centric post-movie fic, part 2!)

(Part one can be found here!)

(Thanks again to everyone who read the first part and was so sweet about it! Here's the continuation. This is a shorter interlude with Mario and Luigi's family before we get to the main "meat" of the story AKA Mario and Luigi talking on their own in the third part, coming soon. I hope you enjoy, and I appreciate any thoughts/feedback. I will get this uploaded on AO3 as soon as I can as well, if you'd prefer to read over there.)

+

“Hey-o!” 

Things had been so quiet on their long, long, long trek back home that the sudden noise made Mario stiffen as they shuffled through the door, every nerve on high alert for a breathless few seconds. Luigi, who had practically sleepwalked the last block with his head leaned against Mario’s head, using his brother's hat as a makeshift pillow, started too, mumbling a greeting that barely resembled the English language, waving at the front door before realizing he was turned around and swaying around to face the warm light of the dining room instead. It looked like dinner was already over, dishes and silverware being cleared away.

“Look who finally decided to show up! Brooklyn’s brand-new heroes!” Uncle Arthur raised a nearly empty glass of what looked like wine in laughing celebration. “What, you save the city from a bunch of weird turtle goons one time and you’re too good to share a meal with us regular bums?” 

“They were helping with the cleanup,” Aunt Marie hissed, swatting him hard enough to elicit a yelp. “Where were you out there, huh?” She smiled warmly at Mario and Luigi on her way to the kitchen. “Sorry we couldn’t wait any longer. Gramps and Mia needed to get to bed. But don’t worry, we saved plenty!”

“Probably too busy signing autographs for all the bella signore,” Uncle Tony guffawed. “Hard to blame ‘em! Better enjoy it before they figure out you’re plumbers with no money!”

“Heh, yeah. Caught us fair and square,” Mario said, managing a weak laugh. Luigi let loose a tiny, snorting chuckle too, although whether that was because he was backing Mario up or just blindly mimicking what he heard, too lost in his own sleepy little world, Mario wasn’t sure. They were still holding onto one another, which they’d maintained the entire walk back except in places where it was impossible to proceed in that way (ladders and the like). That way, a repeat of the stairs incident couldn’t happen, and Mario had known exactly when Luigi was getting shaky enough to need a break. He squeezed his brother’s hand as a way to check in. It took a few seconds, but Luigi squeezed back gently, which was a small relief.

“Is that the boys!?” Without any further warning, their mother barreled out of the kitchen like a runaway train. She grabbed them in both arms, her shaking grip tight enough that both brothers wheezed from a sudden lack of air. “Oddio, where have you been? You already vanished on us once! My old heart can’t take much more of this.” 

“You’re not that old, Ma,” Luigi murmured, patting her shoulder.

“Sorry,” Mario said as clearly as he could manage with his face smothered in her hair. “Didn’t mean to make ya worry. Just, uh, lost track of time, that’s all.”

“What happened?” That was Dad, moving slower to catch up with her, his brow creased deep. “Are you all right?”

“Never been better!” Luigi insisted, overly bright. The bone-crushing hug had woken him up a little, but now he was using his I’m definitely lying but maybe if I speak at a much higher volume, no one will be able to tell voice. “We were just, y’know, real busy making sure everyone on the block could still…flush their toilets! Everyone forgets how important that is. Can ya believe it?”

“And we had to make sure our friends got home safely too,” Mario jumped in, rubbing his mom’s back with his free hand as she continued to hold on for dear life. You get temporarily swallowed by a giant, man-eating plant in front of your parents one time… “But we’re definitely not going anywhere for the rest of the night, and Aunt Marie said something about leftover food, if you can forgive us…?”

“Of course, of course.” She finally stepped back, but not before one good, firm pinch of the cheek between her fingers for each of them. “You’ve worked so hard, my brave boys. You must be about ready to turn inside out from hunger already. Sit, sit, I’ll bring it to you—”

“Actually, Ma,” Mario interjected as gingerly as possible. “It’s been a really, really long day. Could we, uh, maybe take the food in our room? I know, I know, you don’t like that, but if anything gets messy, I’ll take care of it, promise—” 

“Ya can’t be serious!” Uncle Tony spoke up all of a sudden, his chair screeching against the floor as he jumped up. “You two still gotta give us the whole rundown of where ya been! Where did that angry, spikey dragon-turtle-guy even come from?”

“And the tiny kid who looked like a big ole mushroom with legs!” Uncle Arthur added.

“What about that giant monkey in the tie?” Aunt Marie piped up, half-laughing in sheer disbelief as she came back into the room. “He could talk! And not just little words, no — if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was hittin’ on me.”

“Look, I get it, I get it,” Mario insisted as good-naturedly as he could manage. He started to inch towards the hallway with Luigi in tow, who he could feel becoming jittery from all the new noise. All he needed was a few good, firm excuses, a clear escape route, and they were home-free. “It was pretty crazy stuff, right? But seriously, we’re dead on our feet as it is—” 

“Then sit down already and take a load off!” Uncle Tony insisted right back. “We’ll make coffee!” 

“Nooooo, no coffee for me. Now!? I-I think I might shake right out of my skin if, “Luigi started to joke, only to squeak when Uncle Tony grabbed him by the shoulders and tried to steer him around anyway.

“C’moooon! A story like this can’t wait,” Uncle Arthur groaned. “This is the wildest thing that’s happened since Gramps’ teeth were eaten by that dog on the subway! Have some pity for your elders and their boring lives.” 

“We’ll tell ya all about it tomorrow, I swear!” Mario said a little louder, desperately trying to sound casual even as the words scraped up his throat. It was too loud, too bright. A new wave of dizziness swam over him; everything was starting to seem more and more like a dream, his vision smearing at the edges. The only thing that still felt solid, real was his hold on Luigi. He stayed focused on it like a lifeline, even as they were jostled around. “And you’ll understand then why we need to sleep for a million years and then some, I swear, ‘cause we, we’ve really gone through the ringer here...”

“Don’t you think you’ll feel better if you just sit down for a minute?” Ma asked, smiling warmly. “Besides, I wanted to know a little more about that princess—”

“Ya gotta eat anyway!” Uncle Arthur downed what was left of his glass in one swig. “Don’t make us beg!” 

“Forget the coffee. We’ll break out the Sangiovese and that’ll loosen you up real good,” Uncle Tony snickered.

Their uncle grabbed at Luigi again, pulling him along harder this time — hard enough that he panicked, his flailing hand struggling for a better grip on Mario’s before they were ripped apart. And that reminded Mario’s fuzzy, exhausted brain of something. A feeling he didn’t know how to describe in words but that cut into him like a knife between his ribs just the same, bone-deep and blindsiding and instantly overwhelming. He thought of—

(pink clouds and faint swirling light and green pipes and weird wind tunnels he could practically swim through and black shadows like soot in the air and lava glowing and Luigi shouting his name, Luigi panicking as he tried to calm him down, Luigi’s hand warm and snug against his because nothing could hurt them if they were together and nothing was going to separate them as long as Mario was strong enough, steady enough to make it that way but then there was a sound like thunder and the pressure grew and grew and grew and grew and GREW AND)

His body acted on its own. With both hands, he wrenched Luigi back towards him a few stumbling steps, out of Uncle Tony’s hands. “No!” He yelled, a hoarse, guttural sound. 

Silence, save for car horns on the street outside.

Clarity came over Mario in a slow, creeping wave, quickly turning into a feeling of horror as he registered the way everyone had frozen in place around him, staring with wide, frightened eyes. Even their parents looked stricken. Luigi’s tired expression had flooded with worry too, but there was a glint of something warmer there as well — understanding. I felt it, his eyes said to Mario, as clear as day. I remembered too.

“I-I’m sorry, but we really, REALLY need to take a rain check, all right?” That was Luigi, breaking the silence, talking way more assertively than he usually ever did at home. Most of the time, the others drowned him out, but now, he had everyone’s undivided attention, insistently pointing with his one free hand that wasn’t still clinging to Mario’s. “We, me and Mario here, are a little loopy, all right? Not thinking straight in the least! It’s been a hard day — a hard couple of days! Three days, in fact! Maybe three days, or two! Heck, I don’t even know what day it is anymore! That’s how out of whack we are! Do ya get it already!?” 

“Easy there, Lu,” Mario whispered. There was so much frantic gesturing going on that Luigi was starting to throw himself off-balance, swaying dangerously. He still felt ashamed, raw inside from the outburst, but Luigi jumping in had lessened it to the point that he could breathe again, at least. His amazing brother really was full of surprises today, it seemed. “But he’s right. I…it’s just been a lot."

Some glances were shared around the table. Surprisingly, it was Uncle Tony who spoke up first. 

“Y’know what? You do look like you’d be shoo-ins for a zombie movie, no makeup needed.” He clapped them lightly on the shoulders one more time and then sat back down with a backwards wave of the hand. “Don’t worry about us. Go on, get out of here.”

“Get plenty of rest,” Aunt Marie said, her smile plainly apologetic. 

“Man, that just gave me deja-vu like nobody’s business,” Uncle Arthur laughed. “Remember when they were tiny, Tony? We couldn’t peel them off each other for anything in the world.” 

“Oh man, do I,” Tony snorted. “Not without them scratching and screeching like stray cats! Might as well have made you two — whaddya call it again? — conjoined twins and saved a couple steps.” 

“There was that one time we were babysitting at the park down the street—” 

Mario didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. “Come on,” a familiar, gruff voice said near his ear, followed by two large arms herding him and Luigi away, their mother following close behind. “Get yourselves into the kitchen already.”

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Mario couldn’t help but insist once they were there, heels squeaking on the faded linoleum. Several of his stern talking-to’s over the years had started out much like this in the past; speaking up right away and defending himself before the inevitable yelling happened was practically second nature. “I didn’t mean to yell, I swear, it was just—”

“Never mind that,” the older man cut him off. There was something soft in his tone, softer than Mario could remember hearing it before, and that was when he realized that he'd misread the situation entirely. His dad's eyes were dark with concern, not anger. "Now come on. Give me your gloves, and shoes too. Both of you."

Mario and Luigi glanced at each other and then down at themselves in confused unison, dimly registering that yes, they were still wearing all of that, having forgotten to take everything off at the door like they usually did. Some slow shuffling later, and it was gathered in a pile. Their dad plucked their hats off their heads as well (also missed), tucking everything in the sturdy crook of one arm. He used his free hand to ruffle their hair and pat their faces, one after the other.

"You did good out there," he said, "but what matters most is that you're all right. That's always gonna be what matters most to us. I just," he swallowed slowly, thickly, "I want to make sure you both know that."

For one very brittle moment, as his dad held his face in his big, warm palm, Mario genuinely didn't trust himself to not start either laughing or sobbing right then and there — maybe a crazy mixture of both. The feeling passed, thankfully, but he still managed a wobbly smile, a small nod.

“Now go and wash up. Ma will get the food ready.” Sure enough, their mother was already bustling around like a madwoman, plates clattering and half-empty pots simmering again on the stove. “Luigi, you first. Datti una mossa.” 

“Yessir!” Luigi looked back at Mario before going, a tired, reassuring, still slightly worried look that said I’ll see you in a couple of minutes, okay? Mario reflected it back, and their dad walked Luigi out of the room, towards the hallway.

“Just promise me you’ll tell us what happened tomorrow, all right?” Mario's attention returned to his mother, who was finishing stirring some reheated sauce with a little too much shaky speed before coming over to him, smushing his cheeks in both hands. “I don’t care how old you two get. You're still my babies, and babies shouldn't keep secrets from their poor mother."

“I promise, I promise! You’re gonna pop my teeth out, Ma!” Mario half-laughed, gently tugging at her wrists so he could talk more clearly. “Definitely tomorrow, okay? Right now, I…I don’t know if I could tell ya if I tried. It’s just a crazy blur, and I really gotta process it all myself, still. We just need a little time."

“I understand.” She drew him into another hug. Mario couldn’t help but sink into the familiar warmth, clinging to her. He’d been so worried about Luigi that he’d never even considered the idea that he might never see his parents again either. The realization hit harder than he’d anticipated. “Besides, I know I have nothing to worry about when you two are together. You do such a good job of looking after your brother.” 

(Or even worse, what if he’d been able to come home in the end — but alone? What if he’d had to sit his parents down and tell them that Luigi was…) 

There it was again — that sudden, sour feeling of wanting to cry, such a heavy wave inside him that he had to clench his teeth to the point of pain to hold back a gasp.

Stupid, he thought bitterly, almost angrily. What did he even have to be crying about? Once again, he weathered the rush, kept the walls intact by a hair. He closed his eyes and just let himself be held.

“Of course, Ma,” he croaked. “Always.” 

#mario movie #super mario bros movie #super mario bros #mario and luigi #cherrysip fic #i am SUCH a big Mario and Luigi's Family Apologist you don't even know lol #they just remind me of my own family so much #when you have a big family the sheer number of people makes it really easy to lose things in the shuffle #especially when you're ALSO a family that ruthlessly teases each other about things like mine does #it is sometimes very hard to tell when something has gone too far or someone just isn't in the mood until the breaking point #but once that does hit i'd like to think that everyone takes it seriously in their family and backs off and reinforces the love first #next part will be longer and will just be mario and luigi! #thank YOU for reading <3 <3 <3