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doyoulikethissong-poll · 11 months

Text

Yes votes / Artist - Song title / Poll number / Showdown votes / * Showdown Winner

95% A-ha - Take On Me #91 - 45.2% *

94,8% Boney M. - Rasputin #37 - 49,3% *

94,6% Beethoven - Symphony No. 5 #223 - 16,5%

94,3% Dolly Parton - Jolene #110 - 43,1% *

94,1% Britney Spears - Toxic #04 - 51,9% *

94% Green Day - American Idiot #264 - 29,6% *

92,8% The Rolling Stones - Paint It Black #236 - 20% *

92,5% Outkast - Hey Ya! #260 - 49,6% *

92% Fleetwood Mac - The Chain #116 - 44,4% * 92% The White Stripes - Seven Nation Army #268 - 19,7%

91,5% Stevie Wonder - Superstition #261 - 15,9%

91% The Cranberries - Zombie #323 - 44,8% *

90,9% Smash Mouth - All Star #336 - 62,2% *

90,6% Louis Armstrong - What a Wonderful World #301 - 20,9%

90,3% Michael Sembello - Maniac #227 - 6,2%

90,2% Dead or Alive - You Spin Me Round (Like a Record) #163 - 30,8% *

89,1% Kansas - Carry On Wayward Son #171 - 51% *

88,6% Bon Jovi - Livin' on a Prayer #307 - 25,1% *

88,3% Harold Faltermeyer - Axel F #289 - 18,4%

87,9% Madonna - Like a Prayer #313 - 34,6% *

87,8% The Weeknd - Blinding Lights #233 - 14,4%

87,6% Gotye featuring Kimbra - Somebody That I Used to Know #267 - 15,1%

86,8% Gnarls Barkley - Crazy #206 - 17,3%

86,6% Amy Winehouse - Back to Black #190 - 32,9 *

86,3% Chumbawamba - Tubthumping #82 - 24,9%

86,2% AFI - Miss Murder #306 - 16,8%

86,1% Mary J. Blige - Family Affair #308 - 5,5%

86% Chuck Berry - Johnny B. Goode #53 - 18,6%

85,6% Santana featuring Rob Thomas - Smooth #205 - 19,1%

85,5% Dido - Thank You #120 - 5,6%

85,3% Ricky Martin - La Bomba #132 - 8,3% 85,3% Billy Idol - Rebel Yell #197 - 23,9%

85,2% Queen - The Show Must Go On #142 - 20,9%

85% Green Day - Basket Case #47 - 27,6% *

84,9% Ramones - Blitzkrieg Bop #41 - 15,8%

84,7% The Cardigans - Lovefool #135 - 24,2% *

84,5% Elvis Presley - Can't Help Falling in Love #136 - 18,8%

84,4% Daryl Hall & John Oates - Out of Touch #67 - 31,4% *

84,3% Blur - Song 2 #222 - 18,6%

84,2% The Sweet - The Ballroom Blitz #226 - 15,8%

83,8% Kylie Minogue - Can't Get You Out of My Head #302 - 15,8%

82,7% Nightwish - The Phantom of the Opera #144 - 8,6%

82,6% Junior Senior - Move Your Feet #76 - 6,5%

82,5% Blackstreet featuring Dr. Dre and Queen Pen - No Diggity #249 - 37,8% * 82,5% Robert Miles - Children #270 - 2,9%

82,4% Myrkur - Tor i Helheim #54 - 7% 82,4% Tracy Chapman - Fast Car #145 - 32,5% *

82% Backstreet Boys - I Want It That Way #105 - 19,2%

81,9% Blue Swede - Hooked on a Feeling #152 - 17,1% * 81,9% 3 Doors Down - Kryptonite #167 - 15,1%

81,7% Daft Punk - Around the World #231 - 18,2%

81,6% N Sync - Bye Bye Bye #52 - 26,9% * 81,6% Shakira featuring Alejandro Sanz - La Tortura #269 - 4,8%

81,5% Israel Kamakawiwo'ole - Somewhere Over the Rainbow #42 - 16,7%

81,1% Metallica - Enter Sandman #200 - 32,5% *

80,7% Jamiroquai - Virtual Insanity #72 - 17,9%

80,6% Fatboy Slim - Praise You #237 - 6,5%

80,5% Pixies - Where Is My Mind? #148 - 13,5% 80,5% Roxette - The Look #225 - 5,7%

80,2% Oasis - Wonderwall #157 - 16%

80,1% Soundgarden - Black Hole Sun #119 - 14,9%

79,9% Dee Dee Sharp - Mashed Potato Time #326 - 0,7%

79,8% Christina Aguilera - Candyman #228 - 5,9%

79,6% Fats Waller - Ain't Misbehavin' #179 - 7,1% 79,6% Deep Purple - Smoke on the Water #238 - 7,2%

79,4% Falco - Rock Me Amadeus #185 - 23,2% 79,4% Enrique Iglesias - Bailamos #304 - 6,2%

79,3% Rick Astley - Never Gonna Give You Up - #Bonus Poll

79,1% Runrig - Gamhna Gealla #281 - 4,5%

78,8% Shakira - Ojos Así #75 - 7,5% 78,8% MUCC - Libra #263 - 1,7% 78,8% The Platters - Only You (And You Alone) #315 - 3,8%

78,7% The Jacksons - Blame It on the Boogie #220 - 15,8%

78,5% Kaoma - Lambada #57 - 4,2%

78,4% Danny Elfman - This Is Halloween #05 - 13,9%

78,2% Panic at the Disco - The Ballad of Mona Lisa #78 - 18,5% *

78% Panjabi MC - Mundian To Bach Ke #64 - 5,3% 78% Wang Heye - Windy #298 - 3,3%

77,8% Plastic Bertrand - Ça Plane Pour Moi #318 - 11,3%

77,7% Tenacious D - Tribute #201 - 23,6% * 77,7% Meat Loaf - I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That) #325 - 11%

77,6% Jimi Hendrix - All Along the Watchtower #95 - 13.1% 77,6% Nirvana - The Man Who Sold the World #118 - 10,7%

77,2% Psy - Gangnam Style #255 - 22,4%

77% Elton John - Goodbye Yellow Brick Road #22 - 29,4% * 77% Kesha - Blow #38 - 12,1%

76,9% The Verve - Bitter Sweet Symphony #271 - 32,5% *

76,6% Santiano - Gott muss ein Seemann sein #276 - 7,6%

76,4% Salt-N-Pepa with En Vogue - Whatta Man #134 - 15,1% 76,4% George Michael - Freedom! #219 - 17,2%

76,3% Johnny Cash - Hurt #81 - 35,6% * 76,3% Red Hot Chili Peppers - Otherside #92 - 8.2% 76,3% The Offspring - Gone Away #143 - 5,9% 76,3% The Longest Johns - Hoist Up The Thing #169 - 7,8%

76% Foo Fighters - The Pretender #111 - 14,2%

75,9% Queens of the Stone Age - No One Knows #87 - 12,9%

75,7% Nothing but Thieves - Is Everybody Going Crazy? #113 - 3,7% 75,7% Warren G featuring Nate Dogg - Regulate #244 - 9,2%

75,5% Tarkan - Şımarık #94 - 3.1% 75,5% Lenny Kravitz - Are You Gonna Go My Way #246 - 24,6%

75,4% Jerry Lee Lewis - Great Balls of Fire #188 - 8,8% 75,4% Arash featuring Rebecca Zadig - Temptation #332 - 2,2%

75,3% The Doors - Light My Fire #319 - 15,3%

75,2% Eiffel 65 - Blue (Da Ba Dee) #147 - 14,2% 75,2% Duran Duran - Ordinary World #257 - 14,2% 75,2% Anastacia - Not That Kind #335 - 3,1%

75,1% Kent - Kärleken Väntar #202 - 4,3%

74,9% Måneskin - Off My Face #151 - 7,9%

74,8% Måneskin - Zitti e Buoni #16 - 33% * 74,8% Fiona Apple - Criminal #329 - 9,6%

74,6% Nat King Cole - Nature Boy #09 - 7,2% 74,6% Within Temptation - Stand My Ground #165 - 6,4% 74,6% Pink - Who Knew #166 - 8,4%

74,5% Crazy Town - Butterfly #275 - 8,8%

74,4% Go_A - Shum #177 - 18,7%

74,3% Arash - Tike Tike Kardi #137 - 2,6%

74,2% Nelly - Hot in Herre #278 - 11,5%

73,6% Paula Abdul - Straight Up #156 - 6,2%

73,5% Tina Turner - GoldenEye #195 - 10,1% 73,5% Shaggy - Boombastic #262 - 4,5%

73,4% Babymetal featuring F.Hero - Pa Pa Ya!! #322 - 7,8%

73,3% Beck - Loser #124 - 16,4% 73,3% Massive Attack - Teardrop #187 - 17,4%

73,2% The Avalanches - Frontier Psychiatrist #232 - 8,2%

72,9% Britney Spears - Break the Ice #300 - 13,6% 72,9% Prince and the Revolution - Raspberry Beret #328 - 7,2%

72,7% Iggy Pop - Lust for Life #199 - 7,6% 72,7% Whitney Houston - I Have Nothing #218 - 11,9%

72,6% Evanescence - Imaginary #44 - 13,5%

72,5% Gackt - Vanilla #282 - 16,8%

72% Robbie Williams - The Road to Mandalay #129 - 3,9%

71,8% Billie Piper - Day & Night #173 - 5,6%

71,7% Lil Green - Why Don't You Do Right? #34 - 1,8%

71,6% Bad Lip Reading - Seagulls! (Stop It Now) #209 - 18,5%

71,3% Leila K featuring Papa Dee - Rude Boy #288 - 3,6%

71,2% Mötley Crüe - Dr. Feelgood #309 - 4,9%

71,1% Cab Calloway - Minnie the Moocher #130 - 14,4% 71,1% Ladaniva - Jako #259 - 2%

71% Udit Narayan - Bholi Si Surat #141 - 1,5%

70,9% Nine Inch Nails - Closer #93 - 22%

70,8% Eric Clapton - Tears in Heaven #295 - 8,2%

70,7% Ryan Gosling - I'm Just Ken #159 - 12,4%

70,6% The Lightning Seeds - You Showed Me #59 - 2,7% 70,6% Savage Garden - To the Moon and Back #83 - 7%

70,5% Queen - Mustapha #29 - 11,4%

70,4% Soggy Bottom Boys - I Am a Man of Constant Sorrow #26 - 22,3% 70,4% Metallica - Wherever I May Roam #77 - 8,6% 70,4% Johnny Cash - Don't Take Your Guns to Town #298 - 12,9% 70,4% Franz Ferdinand - Fresh Strawberries #324 - 3,3%

69,9% MUCC - Ryuusei #19 - 7,4%

69,6% Michael Crawford, Barbra Streisand - Put On Your Sunday Clothes #311 - 6,2% 69,6% Eagle-Eye Cherry - Save Tonight #321 - 7,2%

69,5% Spooks - Things I've Seen #104 - 0,8%

69,2% Flo Rida feat Kesha - Right Round #02 - 6,2%

69,1% Dogstar - Breathe Tonight #251 - 1,4% 69,1% Tanita Tikaram - Twist in My Sobriety #291 - 6,7%

68,9% Era - Ameno (Remix) #24 - 4,8% 68,9% M.I.A. - Paper Planes #229 - 19% *

68,8% Nat King Cole - When I Fall in Love #215 - 9,4% 68,8% Maroon 5 - Makes Me Wonder #216 - 8,5%

68,5% Linkin Park - Bleed It Out #63 - 23,9% 68,5% Snow - Informer #139 - 4,7%

68,4% Iggy Pop - Real Wild Child (Wild One) #305 - 2,5%

68,3% Run-DMC featuring Aerosmith - Walk This Way #127 - 10,9%

68,2% Limahl - The NeverEnding Story #60 - 9,8% 68,2% Nelly Furtado - Maneater #160 - 17,1% * 68,2% Abhijeet - Ole Ole #193 - 1,7% 68,2% Three Days Grace - Now or Never #337 - 6,9%

68,1% Stromae - L'enfer #89 - 9,8%

67,9% Urban Symphony - Rändajad #90 - 2,2% 67,9% Papa Roach - Getting Away with Murder #339 - 8,3%

67,8% Muse - Endlessly #107 - 9,4%

67,7% Poornima - Channe Ke Khet Mein #253 - 1,3%

67,6% My Chemical Romance - Sing #80 - 17,3%

67,3% “Weird Al” Yankovic - White & Nerdy #43 - 16%

67,1% Ice Nine Kills - Welcome To Horrorwood #280 - 7,6%

67% Avicii - Hey Brother #164 - 13,9%

66,8% Jamiroquai - Deeper Underground #258 - 5,3%

66,7% The Hives - Two-Timing Touch and Broken Bones #58 - 2,7%

66,6% Antique - Opa Opa #213 - 2,5%

66,4% Kiss - Heaven's on Fire #338 - 2,9%

66,3% System of a Down - B.Y.O.B. #128 - 26,2% *

66% Texas - Summer Son #154 - 2,6% 66% Tarkan - Şıkıdım (Hepsi Senin Mi?) #292 - 3,6%

65,9% Otis Redding - Cigarettes and Coffee #279 - 4,9% 65,9% Måneskin - Mammamia #283 - 22,2% *

65,8% Cliff Edwards - When You Wish Upon a Star #85 - 2,2% 65,8% Pātea Māori Club - Poi E #286 - 9,3%

65,7% Modern Talking - Brother Louie #50 - 4% 65,7% Ivan Campo - Dice Man #181 - 1,2%

65,5% All Seeing I - Beat Goes On #256 - 1,7%

65,4% Harry McClintock - The Big Rock Candy Mountains #131 - 6,7% 65,4% Jessica Folcker - Tell Me What You Like #247 - 2,1%

65,2% Eimear Quinn - The Voice #32 - 2,5% 65,2% 2Pac featuring Dr. Dre and Roger Troutman - California Love #121 - 8,3% 65,2% Radio Company - Drowning #172 - 2,2% 65,2% Sabrina Carpenter - Espresso #208 - 7,1% 65,2% Kiltro - All The Time In The World #224 - 2,4%

65,1% Samantha Mumba - Gotta Tell You #242 - 4,1% 65,1% Timbaland featuring Nelly Furtado and Justin Timberlake - Give It to Me #310 - 2%

64,7% Bloodhound Gang - The Bad Touch #162 - 9%

64,6% Gorillaz - Stylo #61 - 15,8% 64,6% Duran Duran - The Chauffeur #133 - 7,1%

64,4% Alice Cooper - Poison #01 - 10,5% 64,4% Depeche Mode - It's No Good #101 - 9,1%

64,2% Ace of Base - Happy Nation #192 - 3,8%

64,1% Destiny’s Child - Jumpin’, Jumpin’ #51 - 12,7%

64% 2 Unlimited - No Limit #182 - 3,2% 64% 30 Seconds to Mars - Battle of One #183 - 3,9% 64% Jack Johnson - Banana Pancakes #330 - 3,3%

63,8% Kongos - Come With Me Now #17 - 15,9% 63,8% A. R. Rahman - Jai Ho #40 - 4,6%

63,7% Eminem featuring Nate Dogg - 'Till I Collapse #239 - 2,1%

63,6% Björk - Army of Me #214 - 19,7% * 63,6% Aaliyah - Try Again #217 - 7,6%

63,4% 50 Cent - Candy Shop #320 - 12,2%

63,3% Dua Lipa - New Rules #126 - 10,6% 63,3% Smashing Pumpkins - Zero #327 - 5,1%

63,1% Olly Murs - Heart Skips A Beat #106 - 2,2% 63,1% David Bowie - Life on Mars? #235 - 16,9%

63% Moby - Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad? #123 - 3,8%

62,6% Métisse - Boom Boom Bâ #287 - 4,2%

62,4% 30 Seconds to Mars - Fallen #30 - 5,5% 62,4% Beastie Boys - Intergalactic #153 - 16% 62,4% The Castells - Some Enchanted Evening #207 - 1,3%

62,3% Childish Gambino - This Is America #71 - 18,2% 62,3% the Chemical Brothers - Galvanize #191 - 7%

62% Billie Eilish - No Time to Die #168 - 5%

61,7% Korn - Did My Time #194 - 6% 61,7% Ginuwine - Pony #297 - 12,8%

61,4% The Prodigy - Breathe #112 - 4,5%

61,3% Blue Stahli - One Last Breath #99 - 1.8%

61,2% Verka Serduchka - Dancing Lasha Tumbai #284 - 14,5%

61,1% Wham! - Everything She Wants #108 - 6,5%

61% Skunk Anansie - Weak #196 - 4,3%

60,7% Gyllene Tider - Sommartider #274 - 2,2%

60,6% Lordi - Hard Rock Hallelujah #70 - 9,9% 60,6% Kwoon featuring Babet - King Of Sea #115 . 0,5%

60,4% No Doubt - Sunday Morning #265 - 4,1%

60,3% My Chemical Romance - Bury Me In Black #294 - 19% *

60,2% Toni Braxton - You're Makin' Me High #155 - 1,4%

59,2% Reol - The Sixth Sense #266 - 1,7% 59,2% Puscifer - Rev 22.20 #334 - 5,4%

58,9% AC/DC - Hail Caesar #158 - 3,2% 58,9% Linkin Park - Waiting for the End #272 - 16,9%

58,7% Duran Duran - The Wild Boys #21 - 9,6%

58,5% Nova Twins - Antagonist #68 - 4,5%

58,4% Ava Max - Torn #331 - 2,8%

58,1% Madonna - Live to Tell #184 - 3%

57,6% Coldplay - Hymn for the Weekend #234 - 4,4%

56,8% Mendez - Adrenaline #23 - 1,2% 56,8% Sash! - Ecuador #73 - 1,7% 56,8% Anouk - Nobody's Wife #176 - 2,2%

56,7% George Michael and Mary J. Blige - As #62 - 3,2% 56,7% Kelis - Trick Me #175 - 4,2%

56,6% Nikka Costa - Like A Feather #48 - 0,6% 56,6% Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds & Kylie Minogue - Where the Wild Roses Grow #103 - 5,7%

56,3% Beyoncé - Work It Out #340 - 5,2%

56,1% Margaret Berger - I Feed You My Love #117 - 0,8%

55,9% Blur - Coffee & TV #56 - 9,7%

55,8% Kool & the Gang - Too Hot #277 - 3% 55,8% Chris de Burgh - The Lady in Red #314 - 4,2%

55,7% Big Brovaz - Nu Flow #65 - 0,9% 55,7% K’s Choice - Everything For Free #79 - 1,2% 55,7% AISHA and Jamison Boaz - Love the Subhuman Self #211 - 4,2%

55,5% System of a Down - Fuck the System #293 - 16,1%

55,4% Moby - Natural Blues #07 - 2,5% 55,4% Janet Jackson featuring Q-Tip and Joni Mitchell - Got 'til It's Gone #146 - 2,2%

55,2% Rammstein - Engel #35 - 7,3%

55,1% Maximum the Hormone - What's Up, People?! #138 - 10,6% 55,1% Eros Ramazzotti - Più Bella Cosa #290 - 3,6%

55% DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince - Summertime #273 - 4,9%

54,6% John Lennon - Imagine #203 - 5,3%

54,5% Billie Myers - Tell Me #86 - 0,9% 54,5% Lana Del Rey - High by the Beach #186 - 4,4%

54,3% Chthonic - Takao #285 - 2,9%

54% Aqua - Turn Back Time #28 - 8,2%

53,9% Ardis - No Man's Land #88 - 0,9%

53,5% Kylie Minogue - Confide In Me #13 - 5,2%

53,4% Apashe - Lord & Master #170 - 1,5%

53,2% Sugababes - Overload #312 - 4,3%

53% LL Cool J featuring Boyz II Men #243 - 3,4% 53% Maxim featuring Skin - Carmen Queasy #245 - 3,2%

52,8% Madonna - Who's That Girl #18 - 9,8%

52,7% Aerosmith - Falling in Love (Is Hard on the Knees) #84 - 3,5% 52,7% MUCC - Daikirai #161 - 2,1%

52,2% Marilyn Manson - The Fight Song #49 - 2,1%

52,1% DJ Shadow - Six Days #180 - 2%

51,6% Bomfunk MC's - Freestyler #14 - 6%

51,5% Foals - Tron #210 - 1,6%

51,3% Mariah Carey - The Roof (Back in Time) #46 - 1,4% 51,3% Mori Calliope & Reol - 虚像のCarousel #55 - 5,6%

49,9% Basement Jaxx - Where's Your Head At #31 - 6,9%

49,8% Shaggy - Hey Sexy Lady #122 - 4,1%

49,7% Warren G & Sissel - Prince Igor #20 - 2,2%

49% Billie Eilish - NDA #10 - 2,6%

47,7% Massive Attack - Angel #39 - 5,9%

47,5% Adam Tensta - My Cool #11 - 1%

47,4% Slipknot - The Blister Exists #100 - 2,6%

47,3% The Lonely Island featuring Michael Bolton - Jack Sparrow #221 - 9,1% 47,3% Burna Boy featuring 21 Savage - Sittin' on Top of the World #248 - 1,9%

47% Seether - Fuck It #74 - 2,6%

46,9% Rhiannon Giddens - Way Over Yonder #102 - 1,2%

46,8% Spiritbox - Rotoscope #66 - 2,6%

46,6% Sabrina Carpenter - Feather #25 - 4,6%

46,5% Stray Kids - Slash #316 - 4,1%

46% Prince - The Greatest Romance Ever Sold #69 - 2,6%

45,6% Jimmy Cliff feat Lebo M - Hakuna Matata #06 - 2%

45,3% Youssou N'Dour and Neneh Cherry - 7 Seconds #212 - 3,3%

44,9% Alcazar - Physical #254 - 0,9%

44,3% 3T and Michael Jackson - Why #114 - 0,7%

44,2% Tones and I - Dance Monkey #178 - 6,1%

44,1% Scooter - Friends #230 - 0,8% 44,1% Darren Hayes - Hero #252 - 1,2%

43,9% The Prodigy - No Good (Start the Dance) #08 - 2,6% 43,9% David Bowie - I'm Afraid of Americans #33 - 8,5% 43,9% Faithless - Insomnia #109 - 2,9%

43,8% Jonas Brothers - Only Human #204 - 2%

43,1% Atari Teenage Riot - Speed #317 - 4,1%

42,7% Fatboy Slim - Weapon of Choice #12 - 16,3%

42,6% Eminem - Rabbit Run #27 - 2,9%

42,1% Mariah Carey and Boyz II Men - One Sweet Day #296 - 3,8%

41,5% Destiny's Child - With Me #198 - 3,2%

41,2% Diana Ross - If We Hold On Together #241 - 10,8%

40,6% Michael Jackson - Will You Be There #45 - 2,3%

39,8% Alanis Morissette - I Was Hoping #96 - 1.6%

38,8% Wyclef Jean - Gone Till November #36 - 1,1%

38,5% Bright Light Bright Light featuring Mark Gatiss - Next To You #174 - 0,8%

37,9% Ariana Grande - Yes, And? #140 - 1,8%

37,6% Babylon Zoo - Spaceman #189 - 2%

36,5% Jedward - Luminous #125 - 1,4% 36,5% Elton John - I Want Love #240 - 2,1%

35,3% Noporn - Geleia de Morango #150 - 0,3%

35,1% 30 Seconds to Mars - Midnight Prayer #333 - 1,1%

34,6% Ena Mori - Fall Inlove! #149 - 0,4%

33,3% Ryan Gosling - Put Me in the Car #15 - 3,2%

32,4% Take That - Babe (Return remix) #303 - 0,3%

30% Darren Hayes - Spin #03 - 0,6%

29,1% Addis Black Widow - Goes Around Comes Around #250 - 3%

29% Dreamcrusher - In Due Time #98 - 0.7%

28,2% BTS - Life Goes On #97 - 1.8%

#note

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mavsstar · 1 year

Text

𝑀𝑦 𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑃𝑒𝑎

Summary ︱Mr. Levinson lives right next door to you, the sweet, innocent college girl. Little do you know that you're Mr. Levinson's favorite neighbor. He's there every chance you need the slightest of help, maybe a little too much.

Pairings︱Mechanic!Ari Levinson x Innocent!Fem!Reader, Robert Pronge x Innocent!Fem!Reader

W.C︱4k

Warnings︱18+ MINORS DNI, Trailer Park AU, it's pretty tame for right now, pet names (Sweet Pea),cursing, reader is scared of Pronge, masturbation (m!) and I think that is all the warnings. Let me know if I missed any!

Author's note︱I am very excited for this series :) This is set around the 90s just because I feel like it fits better with the idea I have going on in my head. It has been awhile since I've written anything so I'm hoping it's not too terrible. I hope you will enjoy this! Feedback is appreciated! Follow my side blog and turn on post notifications :D

“Did you see Mr. Levinson today?” your Mother’s friend, Valerie, asked while wiggling her eyebrows.

“Nope,” you instantly responded. “Have you?”

“Already got my dose of that sexy man.” She smirked while winking at you.

Ari Levinson towered everyone he’s ever met. He stood at a proud 6'6. It was hard to miss the luscious brown locks that fell over his face and the cerulean blue eyes that you could never find your way out of. His beard adorned his jaw and hid the pump rose colored lips he held.

Even when he was doused in motor oil and dirt he was still a beautiful man. He was your neighbor and very well known at the trailer park. Ari was a woman’s walking wet dream come to life.

“He’s already up?” you asked as your eyes bulged out of your head. “It’s like 6 in the morning.”

“Of course he’s up, he’s having his morning coffee.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Only you would know that stalker.”

“It’s not stalking Y/N, it's called being an astute observer,” she retorted. “That’s besides the point, shouldn’t you be heading out by now?”

“I should be but…” you started to answer, looking out the window cautiously, “I have a feeling you know who is outside.”

“If you don’t leave now you’ll be late for work which by the way is in 20 minutes,” she reminded you, pointing towards the clock.

“Please don’t remind me.” You internally groaned as you threw your head back and rubbed your eyes.

After a few moments you finally decided to lift yourself from the couch and head your way out. Goosebumps arose on your arms as you opened the front door. You hated this kind of weather, you couldn’t be without a sweater in the morning but by 3pm you’d be sweating like a dog. You shrugged on your brother's jacket, not bothering to zip it up and closed the front door.

Just as you predicted, the person you dreaded seeing most was standing right outside, Mr. Pronge.

Robert Pronge was your neighbor and lived right across from you. Ever since you moved in he formed the bad habit of staring at you and hitting on you like there’s no tomorrow. From what you heard he was a sick sadistic bastard who liked to torture girls with pleasure. He’s had many lovers enter the trailer but seemingly none of them come back.

You didn’t like the way he makes you feel. It felt like a hungry lion stalking its predator, ready to pounce at any moment’s notice. At the same time you couldn’t help but feel hot. Everytime he was near you, your heart raced from the fear and you felt a pulse in between your legs.

“Morning Princess!” Mr. Pronge called out from his front lawn.

“Good morning Mr. Pronge!” You greeted back but only to be polite. You tried to avoid looking too much at him and instead looked towards the ground.

You heard shoes beating against the ground and you prayed with all your heart that it was someone else running. Luck was not on your side that morning. When you looked up it was the one and only Mr. Pronge.

“Where are you going Princess?” he asked. His breath was minty fresh even though his appearance would say otherwise.

“To work,” you bluntly replied, trying to open your car door.

“Aw Princess, don’t be like that,” he cooed. Once you did get your car door open, he immediately slammed it closed, almost smashing your finger in the process. “I’ll give you a ride. Come on, let's go.”

“I appreciate the offer Mr. Pronge but I can take myself,” you insisted while attempting to reopen your car door.

“Princess…” he warningly said.

Mr. Pronge didn’t like it when people told him no. The word no did not exist in his world.

“I said I’ll give you a ride.”

“Leave her alone Robert!” Ari yelled from his porch, causing the both of you to turn around. “She’s probably late for work!”

Mr. Pronge sighed as he stepped back in defeat. “I’ll take you next time Princess.”

You internally groaned at his comment. He could never leave you alone. Every morning he would play this game with you. On the bright side, you were one of the very few people allowed to tell him no and get away with it.

“Thank you Mr. Levinson!” you yelled as you got in the car.

“Anytime!” Ari walked over to Robert after you drove off. Though his eyes never peeled off from you the entire time.

“You’re always in my way,” Robert playfully commented.

Ari chuckled at the jab. Ari always had to save you from him every morning without fail. “Rob, how many times have I told you to leave the poor girl alone?” He asked as he brought his cup of coffee to his lips.

“I will never leave her alone,” he answered with a proud smirk. “Not until I make her mine.”

“Oh please! You’re old!” Ari jabbed at him. “She’s going to want a hot 20 year old guy not some 40 year old.”

“Her father was not present in her life.”

“What does that have to do with anything?!” Ari asked, confused at Robert’s statement.

“The girl has major daddy issues, Ari,” Robert said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “All I gotta do is caress her a bit, say sweet nothings in her ear and bam! She will fall in love with me.”

“Do that and she will call the cops on you.”

“I’d like to see her try,” Robert remarked as he crossed his arms across his chest. “Besides, why do you care?”

“Because her mother is really starting to get concerned and-”

“Oh that's why you’re concerned!” Robert hooted. “You want to fuck the mom!”

“I do not want to have sex with her mom,” Ari declared with a serious tone. “The woman is stressed enough and I feel bad for her and I feel bad for the girl. I see her peek her head out of the door every morning to avoid you.”

“Ari?”

“Yes Rob?”

“Mind your business.”

The following morning was the same dreadful routine. You were trying to stall, not wanting to face Mr. Pronge though you knew he would be there. He always was. Even when you would try to leave at an earlier time. It’s like he would sleep there and wait for you.

Your mother shoved your car keys in your hand. “Sweetie, you need to go now before you’re late.”

“But what if he’s out there?” you asked with a slight hint of fear.

“Is he still bothering you?!” she questioned, her overprotectiveness coming out. “I’ve had enough, I’m going out there.”

“No! No! No!” you instantly said, jolting your hands out to stop her from taking another step. “Please don’t say anything. Mom please!”

Your pleads were granted. She stayed still as she squinted at the window, sending a silent threat to Mr. Pronge.

“Fine,” she said. “But If I hear or even get the feeling, I’m going to rip his nutsack and his stupid smirk off of him.”

“Wow,” you said with your eyes bulging out in shock.

“Sweetie, you’re too nice and a little bit–how can I put this?” she sarcastically questioned herself as she tilted her head to the side. “Oh yeah, you’re naive.”

“I am not naive,” you muttered under your breath, offended.

“Yes you are,” she said as she was walking out of the living room. “Now go to work!”

You grabbed your bag from the couch and swung it over your shoulder. Your hand went on the doorknob, turning it to open the door. You peek your head out to see if you’re one and only was out there waiting for you.

“He’s not there Sweet Pea!” Ari exclaimed. “You’re safe, you can come out!”

“Thanks!” you yelled from the door, fully stepping out. You confidently walked over to your car, happy Mr. Pronge wasn’t outside to terrorize you. Your happiness was soon cut off when you saw a complete flat tire.

“Dang it!” you cursed to yourself. You peered down at your watch, it was 6:41 A.M. You were trying to calculate how much time it would take to go on the bus and you heard the dreadful sound of boots hitting the road.

“Oh no,” you internally whined.

“Got a flat, Princess?” Mr. Pronge sarcastically asked. “I’ll give you a ride.”

Ari quickly stepped in. “Robert no.” You didn’t even hear him walk over to you. You looked at Ari in shock and sent a cry for help at the same time. “Leave her alone.”

“She needs a ride, I’m giving her a ride. What is the problem?” he challenged, taking a step closer to him.

“You’re not taking her.”

Robert straightened his back and puffed his chest out. “And why not?”

“Because I’m taking her. She was just getting something from her car.” Ari grabbed your bag from your hand and placed his hand on your lower back. “Lets go Sweet Pea,” he said as he guided you to his car, opening the door for you and handing you back your bag.

Robert stood in shock. Ari was taking you. And you let him. Though he couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed, he was just wondering how he did it. That lucky bastard.

The inside of his truck was bigger than you ever imagined. It was dirty and there were oil stains everywhere you looked. Wrenches were scattered across the floor along with bolts and lug nuts. The only thing that was almost impeccable was the air freshener hanging off the rearview mirror but there were five oil stained fingerprints on it.

“Thank you for the ride Mr. Levinson, you didn’t have to take me. I could've taken the bus.”

“Don’t even mention it Sweet Pea,” Ari said. “Plus I don’t think you wanted to ride with Rob now did you?”

“No,” you answered as you shook your head. “He scares me.”

“He scares you?” Ari repeated, barely shocked.

“Mhm,” you confirmed with a small hum. “He’s really big and mean. Everyone says he’s the nicest to me and if that’s true I don’t want to see him when he’s mad.”

“It’s true, he’s the nicest to you.” Ari found it weird when Robert wouldn’t constantly yell at you like he did with other people but he can see why. You’re the sweetest thing ever.

“Is that all?”

“Mr. Pronge used to bring women and–and they would come out screaming and crying. It frightened me.”

Robert used to bring women over all the time. They wouldn’t last for too long. They would run out of the house screaming all kinds of profanities after 3 weeks. You’ll never forget the moment a woman came to your house and asked if you had anything sharp. You gave her one of the knives from the kitchen. 5 minutes later the word asshole was embedded on the side of his car in big, bold letters.

You’ll also never forget the time another woman came to your trailer. She screamed while she banged on the door like a madman. When you opened the door she had red hand prints on her body and a barely carved ‘R’ on her exposed hip. She asked you to hide her because he was coming. Sure enough a minute later Mr. Pronge came, demanding you to show him where she was hiding. Luckily your brother was there to kick him out.

He could see why you were scared. Hell even that scared him a couple of times. For some reason Ari didn’t like the thought of you being scared. Hell, he could barely deal with the fact how uncomfortable Mr. Pronge made you.

When you approached the building Ari parked the car and exited out, lightly jogging over to your side and opening your door for you. He held out his hand to you to help you out of the truck, your hand delicately gripped his and he could feel the rush of dopamine releasing in his body.

“Thank you again Mr. Levinson!” you beamed with a bright smile. You raised yourself on your tippy toes and slightly bounced to place a thank you kiss on his cheek.

An unexplainable warmth rushed through him. The action was short and sweet but it made him feel weak in the knees. He would get cheek kisses from women quite a lot but it never felt like this.

“Anytime Sweet Pea.” He felt himself staring at your eyes for a little bit too long. He forced himself to look anywhere else for a brief second, making sure you didn’t grow uncomfortable. “What time do you want me to pick you up?”

“Oh it’s okay Mr. Levinson, I can take the bus or have my brother pick me up.”

“Are you sure?” he asked you again.

You nodded your head. “Thank you again! You’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t even mention it,” he waves off.

You muttered a small goodbye to Mr. Levinson before taking off into the diner. He watched you go in with a small smile on his face.

Even though this was your first real interaction, he knew he wasn’t going to get enough of you. You were the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. The whole way back he thought of you. You were like a deadly plague in his mind. A beautiful, rose scented, warm plague.

Luckily your brother was able to pick you up after he got off of work. The next bus was going to come within another hour. When your brother picked you up, he was agitated.

“What happened to your tire?” your older brother asked, not amused at all.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I went outside this morning and it had a flat.”

“I helped Mr. Levinson changed the tire, it had 4 nails,” he said in a matter of fact one. “4.” he repeated as he held four fingers in the air.

“I’m sorry,” you weakly apologized.

“You need to pay more attention where you’re driving.”

“I didn’t mean to drive over the nails. There weren’t even any when I drove yesterday!” you protested. “I only drove to the library which is 2 minutes away.”

“So they magically appeared?” he sarcastically asked. “Just pay attention please.”

“I will.”

“You left your bus pass on the table this morning. How did you get to work? ” he questioned you. “Mr. Pronge didn’t take you, did he?” He turned to glance at you with a worried look.

“No, Mr. Levinson did,” you told your brother.

“Did you make it on time?” He quickly glanced at you again, “because you are horrible at giving directions.”

“Hey!” you barked at him. “I am not horrible at giving directions.”

“Yes you are.”

“Well lucky for me I didn’t even have to tell him, he already knew where to go,” you responded, “sure did save me the hassle.”

“Did you thank him?”

“Of course I did, I’m not rude,” you responded, half hurt he would think that of you.

The rest of the ride was short but your brother took the remaining 4 minute drive to lecture you once again to pay attention. You tried to zone him out but he would snap at you, telling you to listen. You knew he did it to annoy you, it was simply too easy to annoy you.

When you arrived at home, you jumped out of the car to look at the tire. Sure you had no idea what you were even looking at but it never hurt. You bent down to look at it and you noticed one thing. It wasn’t patched up like before. It was brand new.

“Are you coming in?” your brother asked you.

You turned to look at him. “Yeah, I just have to do something really quick.”

“Don’t take too long, I’ll be done cooking in 10 minutes.”

“I promise,” you told him before he went inside.

You took out a sticky note, a pen and 50 dollars that took you 4 days to earn. You used the hood of your car as a desk and wrote a sweet but short thank you on the sticky note. Afterwards you walked over to his house and placed it under the surprisingly alive flower pot he had on his front porch.

The both of you didn’t see each other for almost 2 days. You got overwhelmed with work that you barely were in the house. It wasn’t until Ari caught you late at the laundromat.

“Sweet Pea?”

You turned around at the sound of your name. “Oh hi Mr. Levinson,” you greeted him with a huge smile.

“What are you doing here so late?” he asked you though he could barely pay any attention to you at the moment. You wore a thin pastel pink cardigan with a pearly white nightgown that had a bow at the valley of your breasts.

“I forgot to do my laundry this morning and I didn’t have time so I came here after work,” you told him.

“Isn’t it a little late to be working?” he questioned you.

“I’ve been picking up other shifts at work,” you said, “it doesn’t help having the extra money.”

“Speaking of money,” he began to say as he took out the fifty you gave him from his front pocket of his flannel, “you left this on my porch.”

“Yeah it’s for you,” you innocently said, “I noticed the tire is brand new and I’m 90% sure my brother forgot to pay you.”

“It’s your money, I’m not taking it. Here.” He passed the money back to you but you refused.

“Keep it, you changed my tire and I’m paying you for your service.”

“I really can’t—”

“Please,” you begged him with puppy eyes.

You pulled at his heartstrings. It agonized him, he didn’t want to take your money but he also didn’t want to make you sad. But he kept it anyway and stuffed it back into the front pocket of his flannel.

“What are you doing here so late?” you asked him as you bent down and took out your now dry clothes.

His eyes peered down for a quick second and he saw the nightgown riding up, revealing your baby blue panties. His throat went dry and he fought hard to keep his gaze up but it found itself looking back down.

“I–I realized I forgot to wash my work clothes.”

“I hate when that happens.” You came back up after you pulled out the last piece of clothing. “Then I’m stuck getting yelled at by the manager when I come in with the wrong clothes.”

Ari chuckled to avoid an awkward silence. Really it was to refrain himself from stuttering or making a fool out of himself. In his head he wanted to compliment you and how pretty your nightgown was but the words wouldn’t leave the tip of his tongue.

He took a deep breath before he spoke. “You look pretty in your nightgown,” he quickly muttered out.

Your eyes lit up at his compliment. “Thank you Mr. Levinson. It’s pretty but I don’t think I’ll keep it.”

“Why’s that?”

“It always rides up and by morning it’s all the way up here,” you pointed to your upper stomach.

Oh what he would give to be a fly in the room in the morning. He quickly changed the conversation, it was obvious you were too oblivious to what you were doing to him. Your sweet voice and innocence were driving him insane but he loved it, he secretly wanted more.

The both of you left the laundromat 40 minutes later. He insisted on carrying your basket for you. You both walked side by side. You were busy trying to keep up with him while he was busy looking down at your breasts.

“Thank you for carrying my basket Mr. Levinson,” you thanked him as you took your basket from him when you got to your front porch.

“Anytime Sweet Pea.”

You kissed his cheek once again to seal your thank you. “Sweet dreams Mr. Levinson.”

“Sweet dreams honey,” he repeated to you.

Ari was in a rush to get back to his trailer but a dear beloved friend was waiting for him.

“Well would you look at that?” Robert sarcastically asked him. “She gave you a kiss on the cheek.”

“Not now Robert,” Ari pleaded, dying to get back into his place.

“What’s the big rush to get back home?” Robert crossed his arms as he smirked, “I see you’re sporting a hard on. Surely it can’t be because of her. Right?”

“Oh shut your trap.”

“It is, isn't it?!” he gawked.

“No it’s not!” Ari protested.

“Oh really?” Robert Challenged as he squinted his eyes.

“I was about to get lucky with Kim before she came into the laundromat and interrupted us,” Ari quickly lied.

“So you waited for her to be done then walked her back?” Robert questioned Ari.

“Of course I did,” he scoffed, “otherwise she would’ve ran into you. Not to mention she’s terrified of you, fuckin’ creep.”

“Whatever. She wants me, I know it,” Robert boasted.

“Yeah in jail.”

Robert rolled his eyes and walked back to his trailer while Ari walked back into his. He immediately locked the door behind him and dropped the basket on the floor.

“Oh thank god,” Ari hissed as he unzipped his painfully tight pants.

His cock was rock hard and had been for the past 20 minutes. The pants barely gave him any friction and if anything, made it worse. He palmed himself through his boxers and moaned in relief.

All he can think about is you in the short nightgown and how he’s never been this hard before. Sure he’s been turned on but it was nothing compared to this. It was like he was a horny spazzy teenager all over again.

He freed his cock from his boxers and sharply inhaled at the impact of the cold air. The tip of his cock was bright red and oozing with precum. He used his thumb to spread his precum and use it as lube.

His eyes screwed shut in bliss when he began pumping up and down. He tried to think of the porn he watched three days ago but instead you kept popping up. He imagined you being here with him, helping him out.

“Does that hurt?” you ask him as you point to his angry, leaking cock.

“It does Sweet Pea,” he rasped out.

“Was it because of me?” you innocently ask him as you bat your lashes.

“Yes,” he admits.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you apologize to him. “Let me help you,” you tell him as you take his cock into your tiny, warm hand.

“Oh Sweet Pea,” he moans out.

“You’re s-so bi-big,” you sputter out, slowly pumping him up and down. “Does that feel better?”

He doesn’t have the strength to talk so instead he nods eagerly. “G-Go a little bit faster.”

You obey him and start pumping faster. His moans fill the room as he gets lost in the pleasure you’re giving him. Your hand is cramping but you don’t care, anything to make him feel good.

“Sweet Pea, I-I’m about to cum,” he warns you.

You get down on your knees while you still pump him. “Let it all go,” you seductively say as you open your mouth.

Ari was brought back to reality when his high overtook him and he orgasmed. It was so intense his thighs started to shake. He continued pumping and pumping until he got too sensitive he had to stop.

He stood there with his cum dripping down his hand and secretly wishing you were there to help clean it all up. The realization had hit him hard, he needed you.

3K notes · View notes

scuttle-buttle · 6 months

Text

Co-Pilots

Nobody asked for this. I have the flu. I needed something nice to focus on and apparently this was it. Blame @lorna-d-m my partner in crime :) also kudos to winniemaywebber and sagesolscitcewrites because i def read all their stuff and was vibing it and the pet names and stuff sooo hard

Rated: 18+

Word Count: approx. 3k

Tags: MMF, fluff and reassurance, mentions of wartime ptsd, body confidence issues, mentions of having children, PiV sex, female receiving oral, male receiving oral, voyeurism, no stated use of contraception

A/N: Croz is referred to as Crosby, Harry, and Bing in this (so as not to confuse). And idk what rank Rosie is by this point so were just going with Major

✈️

The bright lights blinded you the first time you walked through New York City; tonight was no different. Flashes of neon whites, golds, blues, reds, lit up your path as you entered the lobby to the Ritz hotel. Your husband had made arrangements for you to meet him in the city much as he had a near 2 years ago during the height of the war. You wanted to meet him at the airport. Crosby insisted he find you at the hotel. And now, with Hitler defeated, he was on his way home. For good.

His phone call had startled you. Usually, you wrote him weekly, sometimes more if you felt lonesome. Harry’s letters were less frequent, but no less loving. Little Steve kept you more than busy most days, back home safe terrorizing your mother and father while you got some rest and relaxation with your Bing in the big city. The toddler was a shining light in your dark days. He had the same dark curls, the same downturned eyes as his father. A piece of your love that was yours no matter what the war brought - or took.

You’d nearly lost your footing when you heard his voice, gruff and mellow, across the line. Darlin’ it's me, he'd said, I'm coming home but I've got some business to finish in the city, meet me there. I'm bringing Rosie, you remember him yeah? Said he'll take us dancing at the best jazz spots. I love you Mrs. Crosby. See you soon.

Now you wait in the lobby for your love and his friend.

Minutes tick by as you wait. Maybe the plane was late? Maybe they had to meet somewhere after landing to debrief? Maybe there was a problem with the engine? Just as your maybes started to drown out the chatter and bustle around you a voice rang out.

“Well ho-ly mackerel, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes Mrs. Crosby.”

The sight of your husband had you dashing into his waiting arms. Tears streamed down your face as you kissed him senseless over and over and over. Crosby couldn’t contain his laughter at your reaction, nor did he bother hiding it when he wiped his eyes dry.

“I’ve missed you so much Bing.”

His forehead rested on yours. “God how I’ve missed you too, Darlin’.”

Over his shoulder you notice a taller man, stylish moustache and curls neatly gelled into place, attempting to avert his eyes and give your reunion privacy. You were struck by how attractive he was. “Bing?”

“Oh!” Harry takes a step back. “Darlin’ this is Robert Rosenthal - or Rosie as us boys like to call him.”

Rosie gives a toothy smile and holds out his hand for a firm shake; “so nice to meet you, Mrs. Crosby. Croz here has told me all about you.”

Giving your husband a raised eyebrow, you ask “all good things I hope?”

Both men chuckle. “Only the best, ma’am.”

The three of you settled into your rooms before deciding that a celebration was in order. Rosie commandeered the evening, promising only the best jazz New York had to offer. Drinks flowed, the band jived, and couples danced the night away.

Night after night, Rosie took you somewhere new. You’d split your time whirling the dancefloor between both your husband and his pilot friend, never satisfied until your feet ached. Harry claimed all the slow dances, nestled up close to your body. But Rosie? He got the fast-paced, jumping, hip swaying swing that Crosby claimed he couldn’t keep up with. Two left feet, he’d claim. Each morning after you slept in the plush, luxurious Ritz bed until lunchtime while they attended to their military duties.

Friday rolled around. It had been a week of this routine. You should’ve been exhausted, you should’ve wanted to slow down - after all you were no spring chicken anymore. Yet, something about being in the arms of your husband and Rosie as you swayed to Duke Ellington, Benny Goodman, and Glen Miller felt so right.

When the barkeep yelled for “last call” you knew it was time to retire for the evening.

“Say, why don’t you come have a nightcap in our room, Rosie? Crosby asked.

The three of you settle into the living room of the suite assigned to you and your husband. Bing plops into an armchair with a satisfied huff. You join Rosenthal on the loveseat, a respectable distance inbetween. A bottle of whisky sits open on the fireplace mantle. Conversation comes and goes as the trio fall from the high of the night. It’s easy. Almost makes the boys forget the horrors they endured in Europe.

Around 1am the conversation begins to lull as you finish regaling the group with a story of the shenanigans you and your girlfriends would get up to during university days. “-You think you boys were bad flying all around in your skivvies, but it was nothing compared to us girls that night!” Laughter filled the room until all had let it trickle to a close; the silence was warm like the fireplace embers. Robert sat enraptured by your story, by your beauty, by the thought of you under that blue dress and all your curves. He knew he shouldn’t have noticed…..he was just a man after all. And with the things he’d seen? Could you really blame him?

“How long’s it been Rosie?” The question broke the man’s gaze from you and directed it towards Crosby. He didn’t know it was so obvious.

Rosie was about to stumble out an answer, an apology for looking at you like that, he doesn’t know, when Croz interrupts again. “When’s the last time you felt the touch of a good woman, Rosie?” Harry waits for an answer. Rosenthal can feel his face heat; he runs his fingers through his hair mussing the curls out of place. This confident Crosby was much bolder than the one he’d met when he first shipped out to the 100th. “Before the war?” There is no judgment in his eyes, no disdain or hesitation towards his comrade as he asks. Rosie shakes his head in affirmation. His glass clinks against the table as he sets it down, whisky unfinished.

Crosby sighs. “Too long.”

“Too damn long…” Rosie agrees in a mumble.

You sit and watch the boys in rapt attention before meeting Bing's chocolatey eyes. Rosenthal is a good man, a great one from what your husband’s letters proved, and he deserves kindness and softness after all he’s been through. They both do. A delicate hand moves to rest on Rosie’s knee where he sits next to you. His brow furrows. The Major flits his gaze between you and your husband.

In all seriousness Crosby says “It’s alright, I don’t mind.” He tilts his head forward in permission, a silent go ahead.

The navigator noticed how Rosie looked at you all night, how you returned the glances like a game of chicken. Each admiring but neither willing to do anything about it. How the two of you danced around the club without a care in the world at his insistence. He hadn’t seen Rosie smile like that in ages. He knew you hadn’t laughed like that since before he announced he was heading to the front. You definitely were reveling in the attention of both men tonight. This was never something you had discussed with your husband; somehow you just knew each other well enough even after so long apart to know that it was okay. It was something you both wanted.

Your fingers drifted higher on Rosie’s thigh; not enough to be indecent, but enough to get the message across. His larger palm came to rest atop yours, stopping the movement. “You uh- you’re okay with this?” the Brooklyn native questioned.

Without hesitation you reassure “I am.”

In a measured, almost odd approach Rosenthal shifts towards you. His lips hover over your cheek for a moment before the softest kiss brushes your skin. The whiskers of his mustache tickle. You can’t help the grin that threatens to break. He continues to kiss along your cheek, once, twice, thrice, each getting closer to your waiting lips. Finally, his chapped lips meet yours. This kiss is awkward at first as he gathers his bearing, quickly finding a rhythm as if no time had passed since he last kissed a pretty dame.

Crosby sunk deeper into his chair as he watched. He could feel the tell-tale sign of his slacks becoming tighter as he watched his best girl and his best friend. “She loves it when you kiss her neck,” he instructed with that smirk of his. Rosie dragged his lips to your throat. “Little lower-” again he shifted “-right there.” A moan slipped from your parted lips as your body warred with the directions from your husband and the attentions from your lover.

The room felt stifling. Rosie’s coat, your dress, his shirt, your stockings, his trousers, your brassiere - each fluttered off to the floor one by one. Even Bing had lost his button down.

The Major guided you onto your back along the couch, trailing open mouthed kisses down your sternum, along your breasts. A moment of clarity passed your mind that your body was different now than the last time you had been made love to, whether by your husband or not, since the baby. Your breasts weren't as pert, your stomach was softer than it used to be. Lips pursed, you let out a small sigh.

“What’s wrong darlin’?” Bing asked. The navigator leaned towards you, brushing a strand of fallen hair from your face. “You know I can read you better than any map.” Rosie stopped and rested his chin on your abdomen to look up.

“We can stop,” Rosie offered.

“No, It’s silly…” you tried to brush off.

Both men came to your defense immediately. Looking between the two you finally settle on your husband’s face. “It’s just that… since the last time we saw each other I’m different. My body changed and- I don’t know. I want it to be enough for you. For you both,” you add with a look to Rosie.

Crosby drops from the chair to his knees before you. “My pretty girl.” He kisses you slowly. “We’ve all changed.” From below Rosie adds nothing is the same. “You are still the most beautiful, most incredible, woman I’ve ever seen. Gosh - you’re my wife. Mrs. Crosby! I would fight to the ends of the earth to come home to you.” Softer he adds “I did fight to come home to you… and to bring this flak-happy bastard along too,” he laughed, nudging his elbow at his mate. “Now be a good girl and let us treat you right.” At your nod Rosie resumes his ascent down your waiting body.

With a flourish your panties are gone, your dripping center exposed to his hungry stare. “What does she like, Croz? Because I'm not stopping until she comes begging all over my tongue.” He licks a deep stripe along your slit. “Sweet as sugar, babydoll.” Gone is the man unsure of himself, and in place is a god amongst men who knows exactly what he wants. It’s all you can do to hold on as Rosie devours you at your husband’s suggestions. Fingers dig into the cushions, tangle into his curls as you writhe under him.

Rosie puts in his best effort to undo you; your husband saunters up to your face, his pants long forgotten. Cock stiff and ready, dripping with need, he runs the tip of his thumb against your bottom lip. Your teeth nibble at the pad. “Think you can take me too, darlin’?” A whimpered please is all that comes out.

A cacophony of moans fills the air as your senses are assaulted - Rosie latched to your pussy like a lifeline and your Crosby’s cock deep inside your mouth. “That’s it darlin’, just like that. I bet you missed me, huh? I can tell you did, sweet girl. Fuck I missed you….”

You gave him everything you had as you licked and sucked at his length. You could have sworn it was bigger than you remembered. He could tell by the look in your eyes you were getting closer, hell he was too. Lord knew he didn’t want to finish like some schoolboy in your lovely mouth. Crosby pulled himself out and you gasped for air. Cheeks flushed and sweat dripping down your temple he turned to his partner. “Use your fingers Rose, drives her wild when you crook them up inside her ‘n don't be afraid to get rough - give her a nip.” He punctuated the end of his command with a nip of his own to your throat. Rosie did exactly as instructed, sending you careening further to the edge and hips bucking.

“Oh- please Rosie- oh god don’t stop-” tumbles out as you start to fall. You swear you feel him humming against your clit as his fingers burn pleasure into your skin.

“That’s it darlin’, just let go for him. Being such a good girl for us,” croons your Bing.

When it all gets too much you gently push him from you. He goes gracefully, dropping chaste kisses to your thighs and hips. Despite feeling like a bowl of jello you remember your purpose tonight - to give Rosie a proper homecoming.

Sitting up you demand he rid himself of his trousers.

He grins. “Yes ma’am.”

Just as Rosie goes to cover your body again you place your hand on his broad chest, pushing until he is in a sitting position. You quickly seat yourself over his lap, his length resting against you. Grinding down, he grunts. “Let me take care of you Rosie, it’s okay.” Kissing his temple, the corner of his mouth, his Adam's apple, you repeat “I want to take care of you dear, let me.”

With another roll of your hips he enters you. He feels different than your husband, but no less wonderful. Rosie’s hands land firmly on your hips as you rock above him. He knows he won't last long, you feel too good. “God Croz how do you do it? She’s so- ugh fuck” he grunts, head tossed back as you squeeze his length.

“I know, Rose, I know. Just like heaven.” Your husband rubs your back as you move.

Rosenthal buries his face in the crook of your neck, his whimpers muffled so that only you can hear. There are no words for him to describe this feeling: the feeling of being comforted, the feeling of warmth, the feeling of home inside you, even if just for tonight. He almost feels a tear spring to his eyes. Circling your arms around his shoulders you remind him that you’ve got him, that he’s safe, that you're here. You pick up the pace as you ride him, bringing him closer and closer to his fate. His pelvis bucks up to meet yours with every roll.

“Honey I- I’m getting real close.”

You seal your lips on his; “I’ve got you, Rosie. I want you to come for me dear.”

With a deep groan he lifts you off his cock, his spend covering your stomachs and lap in a sticky mess. You hold him as he comes down from his high.

“That was wonderful, thank you…just, thank you.” You kiss him once more; he knows he doesn’t have to thank you for anything, but he does because he’s Rosie. He carefully cleans you of his come with his discarded undershirt.

Crosby drops his lips to the crown of your head, beginning to pull the pins out of your carefully styled hair. “Come here, Darlin’.” He helps to lift you from his colleagues’ lap. “I wanna make love to my wife.”

In seconds you’re on the floor under Crosby, his cock already buried to the hilt within you. Neither of you move as you both enjoy the feel of each other reunited as husband and wife. Whispered streams of I love you and I missed you and fuck you feel so good tumble from your lips, barely an inch apart. Harry would never need a map to know the curves, the sensitive spots, the constellations of beauty marks on your body - he knew it better in his memory than any map he could chart.

Besides you on the couch Rosie has slumped over to lay down, his arm hanging off towards you. Every breath of your husband’s puffs against your neck, every tickle of hair from across his chest reminds you that he’s here and he’s alive and he’s yours. Emotion overwhelmed you; “Bing, love please, I need you.”

Crosby hitches your thigh up and around his hip; “I’m here Darlin’.” With that he starts to thrust within your walls. His lithe body moves with a power you had nearly forgotten. Each roll of his hips he pounds into you harder, faster, with abandon; his dog tags cool against your breasts where they hung. Harry was a gentle man, but held so much emotion inside. He could let go with you.

Your next orgasm was building, hotter and faster than the first. Nails raking down your husband’s back, you reached out your other to grab hold of Rosie’s outstretched palm. The slap of skin echoed around the room, mixed with the crackle of the fire and the sound of heaving breaths.

An inferno raged within you. Every touch, every movement atop you sent sparks down every nerve ending. You didn’t know where you stopped and your husband began. “Fuck Bing mmmm- Harry please-” The rug beneath you rubbed your back raw but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as long as he kept going.

Crosby had his thumb rubbing quick circles on your clit in an instant. “Tell me you’re close, I need you to come Darlin’.” You couldn’t catch your breath so you nodded the best you could while squeezing the life out of Rosie’s fingers.

Another snap of his hips and you’re gone, obliterated. Everything felt euphoric and white-hot. Crosby follows suit, his release filling you and your name on his tongue. Bruises will surely linger on your thighs.

There you lay, tangled in the afterglow, your loving husband above you stroking his knuckles against your side and your new lover’s hand in yours. No words needed to be spoken. The moment you shared would be seared into your mind forever playing on repeat. God forbid another crisis happened that would ship your boys out and away from you - yet if it did you would hold on to tonight like a talisman. It had been a long four years, and longer so for them. But the war was won, with spoils a plenty.

Finally.

Lips meeting your Bing’s sweat-slicked forehead, your grip on Rosenthal tightens. “Welcome home my boys, welcome home.”

Tags: @sagesolsticewrites @winniemaywebber @sailorscuttle @thirstyvampyr @hellfirequinnie @lorna-d-m

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fanfic #robert rosie rosenthal #harry crosby #harry crosby x reader wife x rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal smut #harry crosby smut #masters of the air smut #anthony boyle #nate mann #anthony boyle smut #nate mann smut #scuttle-buttle

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tinytalkingtina · 6 months

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Tater tot

Written for the @steddiemicrofic bonus challenge prompt "birthday". Happy birthday @steddieas-shegoes, hope you have a lovely day :)

290 words | rating: G

Tags: Parents Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson, fluff, parenthood

Ao3 link

Steve stared through the window at the tiny bundle wrapped up in front of them, tearing up only a little at the sound of another lullaby wafting through the hospital intercom. Robert Wayne Munson remained oblivious to anything in the bassinet. The tiny blue hat perched on his head almost completely covered his even tinier eyes. His nose is so small, can he even breathe okay through those mini nostrils? “He looks like a potato.” Startled out of his spiraling thoughts, Steve snorted a watery laugh and punched Eddie lightly in the shoulder. “Only 3 hours old and already facing the peanut gallery. Don’t be mean to our son on his birthday.” Eddie looked around before he briefly squeezed his hand, stroking his thumb over the band from their illegal backyard wedding five years ago. “I never said he was an ugly potato. But he’s an oval swaddled lump, they’ve spudified him! Our-” Eddie stopped for a moment, his eyes widening before choking out “Our son. Steve, oh my G-d, we’re parents now.” Steve had been a blubbering mess alongside Robin during the entire ride to the hospital and delivery, but Eddie had managed to keep it together. Now, it was as if the floodgates opened. By the time the nurses brought their infant — their son! — back into Robin’s room, Wayne had arrived and Eddie pulled himself together enough to take the baby into only slightly shaking hands. “Hey there, happy birthday little guy, I hope you know how much you’re going to be loved, always” he whispered softly as he ducked his head down to place a soft kiss on his son’s forehead. Steve stepped in to place a kiss in the same spot, his heart bursting.

#In my head this takes place in the late 90's in NYC or Chicago #Yes they named the baby after Robin #steddie #steddiemicrofic #bonus round #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #tinawrites

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pupsmailbox · 7 months

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DOLL︰PUPPET ID PACK

NAMES ⌇ abbie. adelaide. adorablesse. adorablette. aerlyn. alena. alexis. alice. amaia. amaya. andrea. angeline. ankou. annabelle. annie. antoinette. anxiette. anxious. apricot. asaka. ash. asha. aspen. atticus. ava. avel. babette. babydoll. bambi. bambina. bambino. bashfelle. bashful. beau. bellamy. belle. bells. bernadette. blu. blue. bluesse. bluette. blushe. blushesse. blushette. boo. bram. bronach. bronagh. brone. button. buttons. cadel. candace. carmilla. carrie. catherine. cessair. charlie. charlott. charlotte. chelsea. chia. chica. chirella. chirelle. chiwa. chuckie. claeg. coffin. colere. commedia. constance. coquette. cordelia. corelle. corette. corsette. cypress. dahlia. dalia. damon. darling. dawn. dearesse. dearest. dearette. dearie. deidre. demure. desdemona. devin. devon. doilie. doily. doll. dollaintye. dollawie. dollerie. dollesse. dollette. dolleyed. dollie. dolline. dollita. dolly. dolores. dottie. drea. dread. drusilla. dáinn. eeria. eldritche. elissar. eliza. elle. elodie. eloise. emerence. emily. essie. esther. evangela. evangeline. evelyn. eveyln. faith. frill. frillette. genevieve. genoveva. gia. gladys. glorie. glory. gorey. gorie. gracelyn. gregory. gretta. gwen. gwenivive. haldor. haunt. hiccup. hyde. iraia. iresse. irette. itishree. jabez. janelle. janet. jannet. jinx. josie. julie. juniper. juno. kailey. kanani. kewpie. kiva. krak. lace. lacesse. lacette. lacey. lacie. lain. laintess. lakka. lalki. lavender. lea. lefu. letta. letum. libitina. lilac. lillith. lilly. lily. loaela. lola. lolah. loletta. lolita. lolite. lolla. lottie. lovelace. luci. lucius. lulu. lute. lyla. lys. madison. mahina. mandy. mannie. manon. many. mara. maria. marianette. marie. marion. marionette. marionne. marotte. marrionette. marrow. mary. maryjane. marzana. maveth. meek. melanie. melodie. melody. merripen. miel. minuette. mold. moldie. moldy. molly. moonie. moore. morana. morgana. morgue. mors. mort. mot. muriel. murmur. muse. nadine. nadzen. nancy. nanea. nanelle. nanette. nappi. naz. negan. nekane. nelly. nemesis. nettie. nicodème. niegan. nimbus. nina. nuri. olive. oliver. olivia. omega. panchaali. parner. pinkesse. pinkette. pinkie. pinky. pinocchio. pippin. poe. poppet. poppette. poppy. porce. porcelain. porcelynn. prantika. pulau. punthali. pupetta. puppet. puppetear. puppetesse. puppetette. puppette. puppyte. putala. quinn. ravanche. raven. realiteer. rebel. ribbon. ribbonne. riley. rion. robert. rose. rubella. ruby. sacrifette. salem. sasha. satin. scarlet. sebastian. sew. sewine. shivani. shiver. sidney. smierc. smiley. smilie. softesse. softette. softie. solikha. spirit. sprout. statuette. stitches. strings. sweeheart. sweetheart. sweetie. sweetiebelle. sweetine. sychar. teacup. tearie. teddy. tempest. thalia. than. thana. theodora. thorn. trembelle. trista. ultima. ulysses. vanessa. vera. viola. visage. whisp. whisper. willow. winston. wisp. wispera. wrathes. zizi.

PRONOUNS ⌇ adorable/adorable. ae/aer. angel/angel. anger/anger. antique/antique. app/apparition. bell/bell. berry/berry. berserk/berserk. bjd/bjd. bla/black. blank/blank. bliding/bliding. blue/blue. blush/blush. bug/bug. button/button. cake/cake. car/carcasse. cheer/cheer. cloth/cloth. coffin/coffin. control/control. coo/croon. cor/cor. cor/corrupt. core/core. corpse/corpse. coy/coy. crack/cracked. cracked/cracked. cre/creepy. creep/creepy. cu/curse. cu/cute. curse/curse. cute/cute. da/dark. de4/de4d. de/dear. de/demure. dea/dead. dead/dead. dead/death. dear/dear. death/death. decay/decay. delica/delicate. delicate/delicate. demon/demon. despair/despair. dirt/dirty. do/doll. doll/doll. doll/dolly. dolly/dolly. dread/dread. dress/dressup. dress/up. d♡ll/d♡ll. eer/eeerie. elegant/elegant. en/energy. end/end. evil/evil. eye/eye. fabric/fabric. fae/fae. fi/figure. fig/figure. figurine/figurine. flower/flower. fragile/fragile. frail/frail. friendly/friendly. frill/frill. fury/fury. gho/ghost. glass/glass. glo/gloomy. gore/gore. grave/grave. grief/grief. grim/grimm. grime/grime. gru/grudge. ha/haunt. happy/happy. haun/haunt. hx/hxm. h♡/h♡m. it/it. joint/joint. joint/jointed. joy/joy. ke/ker. kew/kewpie. kill/kill. kor/kor. kor/korrupt. la/lace. lace/lace. lae/lace. lo/love. lo/loved. lolita/lolita. love/love. mad/mad. mae/mae. mari/marionette. marionette/marionette. me/meek. mi/mier. mim/mimic. model/model. morbid/morbid. mu/mutter. mur/murmur. nap/nap. null/null. ny/nym. patch/patch. phan/phantom. pink/pink. pitter/patter. plastic/plastic. play/play. play/playtime. play/time. plush/plush. plush/plushie. por/porcelain. porce/porcelain. porcel/porcelain. porcela/porcelain. porcelain/porcelain. pose/pose. pose/posed. possess/possessed. pup/puppet. puppet/puppet. rea/reality. rest/rest. reven/revenge. rib/ribbon. ribbon/ribbon. rot/rot. scare/scare. scary/scary. seem/seem. sew/sew. sew/sewn. shi/shift. shi/shiver. shx/hxr. sh♡/h♡r. sie/sier. silk/silk. slee/sleep. sleep/sleep. smile/smile. snap/snapped. sneak/sneak. soft/soft. sou/soul. spi/spider. spi/spirit. spo/spook. spook/spook. sta/stalk. sta/stare. statue/statue. sti/string. stitch/stitch. string/string. sweet/heart. sweet/sweet. sweet/sweetdolls sweetie/sweetie. ta/tap. te/teer. tea/teatime. teeth/teeth. thre/thread. thread/thread. thxy/thxm. th♡y/th♡m. ti/timid. to/toy. toy/toy. toy/toytime. trick/trick. un/canny. unca/uncanny. ve/ver. vey/vem. vi/vr. vintage/vintage. vomit/vomit. wan/wander. watch/watch. whi/whisper. white/white. wilt/wilt. wood/wood. wrath/wrath. yarn/yarn. zzz/zzz. ♡/♡. ⚰️ . 🍨 . 🛌 . 🛏️ . 🥀 . 🧸 .

#⭐️lists #id pack #npt #name suggestions #name ideas #name list #pronoun suggestions #pronoun ideas #pronoun list #neopronouns #nounself #emojiself #dollkin #puppetkin #toykin #dollcore

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stickbug-made-entirely-of-spite · 4 months

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Here he is!! The finished boy!! :D

May I present, twenty-something-year-old Pirate Captain Jim Hawkins:

Along with some close-ups and fun facts, of course, the latter of which will be under the cut ^-^

The cross necklace is actually a small reference to a real pirate, who lived during the golden age of piracy! Bartholomew Roberts was known to wear a diamond-encrusted gold cross around his neck ^-^

The moon pendant is, - surprise surprise - a reference to Montressor Spaceport :] (and the diamond of course represents Montressor itself)

I've also given him a blue long coat, party because blue actually was one of the colours that commonly appeared in pirate attire, but also as a little homage to Captain Amelia, since that felt like a very in-character thing for Jim to do. The red details in his get-up aren't there for no reason, either, as he wears them in memory of Mr. Arrow

This doodle was so incredibly fun to make, and there weren't really any major hiccups anywhere along the way!

I'm most happy with his face and the red sash around his waist. I'm extremely satisfied with how the lighting ended up making it look like a very luxurious fabric, just like I wanted it to :]

What is that weird cluster of glowing orbs, you ask? I have no idea lmfao

Mysterious light sources and pretty pirates aside, I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day! 🧡

Yours truly, Stickbug 🪲

#art #artist #artists on tumblr #artwork #sketchbook #digital art #digital illustration #my art #treasure planet fanart #treasure planet #jim hawkins #my au #kinda?#It is until I decide it isn't!#Please forgive me for the lack-luster background #Space is hard man TTvTT

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ncwhereman · 1 year

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spanish holiday: a collection

Let me ask you about something else that was in the Hunter Davies book. At one point you and Brian went off to Spain. Yes. Did you… you must have... We didn’t have an affair. You never had an affair with Brian? No, not an affair. Yoko: [laughs] What were the pressures from Brian? Cyn was having a baby and the holiday was planned, but I wasn’t going to break the holiday for a baby and that’s what a bastard I was. And I just went on holiday. I watched Brian picking up the boys. I like playing a bit faggy, all that. Yoko: [laughs] It was enjoyable, but there were big rumours in Liverpool, it was terrible. Very embarrassing. Rumors about you and Brian? Oh, fuck knows—yes, yes. I was pretty close to Brian because if somebody's going to manage me, I want to know them inside out. And there was a period when he told me he was a fag and all that. I introduced him to pills, which gives me a guilt association for his death. I mean they go that way anyway. And to make him talk—to find out what he’s like. And I remember him saying, “Don’t ever throw it back in me face, that I’m a fag.” Which | didn’t. But his mother’s still hiding that. But what I hate is the way they’re all attacking Allen. And Brian was a nice guy, but he knew what he was doing, he robbed us. He fucking took all the money and looked after himself and his family, and all that. And it’s just a myth. I hate the way that Allen is attacked and Brian is made like an angel, just cause he’s dead. He wasn't, he was just a guy. Allen will go berserk when he hears all this.

John Lennon, Jann S. Wenner, Lennon Remembers, 1970

Bob had insinuated that me and Brian had had an affair in Spain. And I must have been frightened of the fag in me to get so angry.

John Lennon, 1972, Peter McCabe and Robert D Schonfeld, John Lennon—For The Record, 1984

Brian was in love with me. It's irrelevant. I mean, it's interesting and it will make a nice Hollywood Babylon someday about Brian Epstein’s sex life, but it's irrelevant, absolutely irrelevant.

John Lennon, Playboy, 1980

I was on holiday with Brian Epstein in Spain, where the rumours went around that he and I were having a love affair. Well, it was almost a love affair, but not quite. It was never consummated. But it was a pretty intense relationship. It was my first experience with a homosexual that I was conscious was homosexual. He had admitted it to me. We had this holiday together because Cyn was pregnant, and I went to Spain and there were lots of funny stories. We used to sit in a cafe in Torremolinos looking at all the boys and I’d say, ‘Do you like that one, do you like this one?’ I was rather enjoying the experience, thinking like a writer all the time: I am experiencing this, you know. And while he was out on the tiles one night, or lying asleep with a hangover one afternoon, I remember playing him the song Bad To Me. That was a commissioned song, done for Billy J Kramer, who was another of Brian’s singers.

John Lennon, Rolling Stone, 1980

Very quickly John became jumpy and on edge. He was beginning to feel trapped and it was time for him to escape but before he left he told me that Brian had asked him to go on holiday to Spain with him and he wanted to know if I objected. I must admit the request hit me like a bolt out of the blue and I really didn’t take it in properly at first but when it sank in I suppressed my true feelings and acquiesced. I was well aware that John deserved a holiday. He had just completed a tour and recording sessions. In actual fact he had never really had a holiday as such. They had all been working very hard and under great pressure since the success of Please Please Me, so I concealed my hurt and envy and gave him my blessings. He was delighted and left me a happy man. I on the other hand was left holding the baby, and what a baby. As soon as John returned from his break in Spain, fully relaxed and raring to get going again, we went together to register our son’s birth.

Cynthia Lennon, A Twist Of Lennon, 1978

Some accounts of that time claim that Brian was in love with John, which was why he wanted to manage the Beatles. I don't believe this for a second. They had a good relationship, but Brian cared for all the boys and he wanted success for the group because he thought they had something unique. Claims have been made since that Brian and John had a gay relationship. Nothing could be further from the truth. John was a hundred per cent heterosexual and, like most lads at that time, horrified by the idea of homosexuality. The bond between John and Brian was one of mutual respect and friendship. They liked and admired each other. Brian could see John's intelligence and distinctive talent. John appreciated Brian's business ability and his ambition for the group. They talked for hours and planned the group's future together. They both wanted the Beatles to be the biggest thing since Elvis, and were hell bent on making it happen.

When Julian was three weeks old, Brian invited John to go to Spain with him. John asked if I'd mind and I said, truthfully, that I wouldn't. I was preoccupied with Julian and nowhere near ready to travel, but I knew how much John needed a break where he wouldn't be recognised and could really relax. I gave them my blessing and they went off together for twelve days. It was a holiday John came to regret because it sparked off a string of rumours about his relationship with Brian. He had to put up with sly digs, winks and innuendo that he was secretly gay. It infuriated him: all he'd wanted was a break with a friend, but it was turned into so much more.

Cynthia Lennon, John, 2005

Brian and John spent so much time together, scheming and dreaming about the Beatles' future, that they seemed almost inseparable. In April 1963, John went so far as to accompany Brian on a holiday in Spain, leaving Cyn behind with their newborn son. In the absence of this decidedly odd couple, tongues began wagging all over town. I visited John at Aunt Mimi's a few days after his return to England. And when he started in about how much he had enjoyed Spain, I could hardly resist taking the piss out of him. "So you had a good time with Brian, then?" I smirked. Nudge nudge, wink wink. I was somewhat taken aback when John didn't so much as crack a smile. "Oh, fuckin' hell," he groaned. "Not you as well, Pete!" "What do you mean, not me as well?" "They're all fucking going on about it." "It's O.K., John. Don't take it so serious. I'm just joking, for Christ's sake." "Actually Pete," he said softly, "Something did happen with him one night." Now that wiped the grin right off my face. Had I even dreamed there might be any truth what soever to the rumors, I would never have made light of the subject in the first place. Still— as John surely knew— I would have stood by him, and let the rest of the world handle the business of passing moral judgment, even if he had just told me he'd committed murder. And John would surely have done the same for me. Which, after all, is what true friendship is all about. "What happened," John explained, "is that Eppy just kept on and on at me. Until one night I finally just pulled me trousers down and said to him: 'Oh, for Christ's sake, Brian, just stick it up me fucking arse then.' "And he said to me, 'Actually, John, I don't do that kind of thing. That's not what I like to do.' "'Well,' I said, 'what is it you want to do, then?' "And he said, 'I'd really just like to touch you, John.' "And so I let him toss me off." And that was that. End of story. "That's all, John?" I said. "Well, so what? What's the big fucking deal, then?" "Yeah, so fucking what! The poor bastard. He's having a fucking hard enough time anyway." This was in reference to the "butch" dockers who, on several recent occasions, had rewarded Brian's advances by beating him to a bloody pulp. "So what harm did it do, then, Pete, for fuck's sake?" John asked rhetorically. "No harm at all. The poor fucking bastard, he can't help the way he is." "No need to get so worked up," I said. "You know I don't give a shit. What's a fucking wank between friends anyway?" We then moved on to other topics, and neither of us ever mentioned the incident again. (And as far as I was concerned, the real revelation that night was not that John had "had it off" with Brian, but that he had demonstrated— albeit in his own brusque way—such genuine compassion for that most hopelessly besotted of all his many admirers.) Unfortunately, certain Liverpool acquaintances (who had no way of knowing that there was a kernel of truth to their allegations) wouldn't let John hear the end of it. All in good fun, no doubt, but John was still too enamored of his macho self-image to take lightly any inference that he was anything less than 100 percent heterosexual.

Pete Shotton, Nicholas Schaffner, John Lennon: In My Life, 1983

John told me he had had a one-night stand with Brian, on a holiday with him in Spain, when Brian had invited him out, a few days after the birth of Julian in 1963, leaving Cyn alone. I mentioned this brief holiday in the book, but not what John had alleged had taken place. Partly, I didn't really believe it, though John was daft enough to try almost anything once. John was certainly not homosexual, and this boast, or lie, would have given the wrong impression. It was also not fair on Cynthia, his then wife.

Hunter Davies, The Beatles: The Authorised Biography (updated edition, 2010)

Almost three weeks after the birth of his son—whom he had seen only a couple of times by then—he agreed to go to Spain with Brian on a private holiday, while the other three Beatles flew to the Canaries for their spring break. I don’t think John told Cynthia what he was doing—he rarely told her anything—and he certainly wouldn’t have asked her permission. When she found out, she dissolved in tears, but she was scared of John and said nothing. To say we were astonished is an understatement. Much has been made of this trip. It was sun, sand and sea—but was it also sex? John himself said he finally allowed Brian to make love to him “to get it out of the way.” Those who knew John well, who had known him for years, don’t believe it for a moment. John was aggressively heterosexual and had never given a hint that he was anything but. If it had been George, we might have believed it. George could act camp and had many homosexual friends, but John loved to say things to shock, and his sly statement was probably just another in a long line of such provocative statements. In fact, it was more in character for John to taunt Brian with promises during those long hot nights in Barcelona than to succumb. Equally, it was in Brian’s masochistic nature to enjoy being tormented, then perhaps to rush off in search of a young bullfighter. Brian adored bullfighters so much, he ended up sponsoring one. (And I think Brian would have confided in somebody if it had happened.)

Tony Bramwell, Magical Mystery Tours: My Life With The Beatles, 2014

First, he wanted to make Brian the baby’s godfather. Second, he was leaving on holiday as soon as this tour was over. He was going away with Brian—just the two of them. The other Beatles were going to the Canary Islands. This meant John wouldn’t see Cynthia for several weeks, long after she had returned home from the hospital. Cynthia lay back in the hospital bed, her head spinning. How could John go off and leave her and Julian like that, she demanded, and with Brian Epstein no less? John flared up at her. “Being selfish again, aren’t you?” he said. “I’ve been workin’ my bloody ass off on one-night stands for months now. Those people starin’ from the other side of the glass are bloody everywhere, hauntin’ me. I deserve a vacation. And anyway, Brian wants me to go, and I owe it to the poor guy. Who else does he have to go away with?” Brian and John went to Barcelona at the end of April 1963. It was a city that Brian had explored on his 1959 solo trip to Spain. He had since become a great fan of the bullfights and considered himself something of an aficionado. He took great pleasure in introducing John to the pageantry and excitement. They spent the days shopping and taking side trips. At night they toured the nightclubs. Later in the week they rented a car and drove down the coast to the glistening white town of Sitges on the Costa Brava. Each night they would sit in the candlelit cafés and watch the couples stroll by in the moonlight. Over many bottles of wine they talked candidly about Brian’s personal life. It was a great relief for Brian to finally be able to talk honestly with John. He told John that for a man who valued honesty as dearly as he did, it was a terrible burden for him to live his life a lie. “If you had a choice, Eppy,” John said, “if you could press a button and be hetero, would you do it?” Brian thought for a moment. “Strangely, no,” he said. A little later a peculiar game developed. John would point out some passing man to Brian, and Brian would explain to him what it was about the fellow that he found attractive or unattractive. “I was rather enjoying the experience,” John said, “thinking like a writer all the time: I am experiencing this.” And still later, back in their hotel suite, drunk and sleepy from the sweet Spanish wine, Brian and John undressed in silence. “It’s okay, Eppy,” John said, and lay down on his bed. Brian would have liked to have hugged him, but he was afraid. Instead, John lay there, tentative and still, and Brian fulfilled the fantasies he was so sure would bring him contentment, only to awake the next morning as hollow as before.

Peter Brown, The Love You Make, 1983 can't wait for the full fic on ao3 peter!

One story the Press certainly didn’t get at the time was that in April, in the middle of the euphoria that followed all the early success and acclaim, Brian and John went off to Spain for a holiday. So much invention and rubbish has been made of this trip by so many people since, that the truth deserves at least a brief mention. The most sensational version, of course, is that the holiday was a chance for Brian to consummate his overwhelming passion for John, which inspired him to sign the group in the first place. I’m afraid it wasn’t like that. John roared with laughter at the rumours that began afterwards. Typically, he encouraged the stories that he and Brian were gay lovers because he thought it was funny and John was one of the world’s great wind-up merchants. He told me afterwards in one of our frankest heart-to-hearts that Brian never seriously did proposition him. He had teased Brian about the young men he kept gazing at and the odd ones who had found their way to his room. Brian had joked to John about the women who hurled themselves at him. ‘If he’d asked me, I probably would have done anything he wanted. I was so much in awe of Brian then I’d have tried a night of vice-versa. But he never wanted me like that. Sure, I took the mickey a bit and pretended to lead him on. But we both knew we were joking. He wanted a pal he could have a laugh with and someone he could teach about life. I thought his bum boys were creeps and Brian knew that. Even completely out of my head, I couldn’t shag a bloke. And I certainly couldn’t lie there and let one shag me. Even a nice guy like Brian. To be honest, the thought of it turns me over.’ All the same, John was very selfish to have gone off on holiday with Brian then because it was just after Cynthia had given birth to his son Julian. John’s whole romance and marriage to Cynthia was kept a secret at the time because Brian feared the effect of publicity about one of the Beatles having a wife, let alone a family.

Alistair Taylor, With The Beatles, 2003

While Brian thought a Beatle’s image could be affected by marriage and fatherhood, his next move proved wildly indiscreet and potentially dangerous. On April 8, 1963, Cynthia gave birth to Julian, and Brian was named his godfather. Shortly afterward, Brian invited John to join him alone on a holiday in Spain. Lennon had been working hard, writing songs and touring Britain. He needed a rest, and Cynthia relished some time alone to adapt to life with a baby. John accepted and flew to Barcelona on April 28 for the twelve-day break. John made it clear to everyone that he was a woman-chaser, a hundred percent heterosexual. But it was inept of Epstein to risk the whispering that was bound to ensue from such an expedition by a manager and a solitary Beatle. It was one of the few times when Brian’s perception of public opinion faltered, for the Spanish trip fueled rumors in Liverpool of an Epstein-Lennon relationship. Paul McCartney’s theory is that “John, not being stupid, saw his opportunity to impress upon Mr. Epstein who was the boss of this group … he wanted Brian to know who he should listen to.” Lennon knew that Brian held him in awe, regarding him as a genius. On their return to Liverpool, Brian and John decided to deal with the gossip decisively. At McCartney’s twenty-first birthday party on June 18, Bob Wooler and Lennon were seen chatting together and within minutes the Beatle had pummeled the Cavern compere to the ground. “He called me a bloody queer, so I bashed his ribs in,” John later told Cynthia. Epstein, no less angry but sensing the need for repairing all wounds, physical and oral, drove Wooler to hospital for treatment of torn knuckles and for shock. Next, Epstein moved swiftly to prevent the friction from escalating. Through his solicitor friend Rex Makin he paid Wooler £200 in damages and insisted that Lennon sent him a telegram of apology. The rumors were quelled. But nothing could prevent the attack on Wooler from reaching the Daily Mirror, whose pop reporter Don Short, in a first recognition of the group’s burgeoning importance, published a back-page story headlined: “Beatle in Brawl Says: Sorry I Socked You.” Since the deaths of Epstein and Lennon, many with no access to, or observation of, both men in their lifetime have peddled the assumption that Brian and John had a sexual liaison. This is despite the lack of any evidence, despite firm declarations of John’s heterosexuality from Cynthia and many other women, and despite the statement by McCartney that he “slept in a million hotel rooms, as we all did, with John and there was never any hint that he was gay.” Brian possibly had a homosexual fascination for Lennon but it could never be reciprocated. And since Epstein was not a predator, that eliminated the likelihood of such a link. More than anyone, Epstein saw the Beatles as an indivisible unit. He would never have risked so profoundly changing his relationship with them, individually or collectively. Nothing mattered more to Brian, after his devotion to his family, than the entity of the Beatles.

Ray Coleman, The Man Who Made The Beatles, 1989

Years later, John finally came clean about what had happened: not to anyone who’d been around at the time, but to the unshockable woman with whom he shared the last decade of his life. He said that one night during the trip, Brian had cast aside shyness and scruples and finally come on to him, but that he’d replied, “If you feel like that, go out and find a hustler.” Afterward, he had deliberately fed Pete Shotton the myth of his brief surrender, so that everyone would believe his power over Brian to be absolute.

Norman Philip, John Lennon: The Life, 2008

I don’t actually know the truth of the John rumour. I suspected that the John trip to Barcelona was a power play on John’s part because John was a very political animal. I think John went away on that Spanish holiday because nobody went on holiday. I would have gone, anyone would have gone. A free holiday? You’re kidding. I’m there. Number two, I’m sure John took Brian aside and said, ‘Hey, you want to deal with this group, I’m the guy you deal with, OK.’ John was that kind of guy. He was a very sensible, very pragmatic guy. So I’m sure that was the main reason John went there. As to whether there was any sort of gay dalliance or whatever, I don’t know. All I can ever say about it is that I slept with John a lot because you had to, you didn’t have more than one bed – and to my knowledge John was never gay.

Paul McCartney, Debbie Geller, In My Life: The Brian Epstein Story, 2000

Brian Epstein was going on holiday to Spain at the same time and he invited John along. John was a smart cookie. Brian was gay, and John saw his opportunity to impress upon Mr Epstein who was the boss of this group. | think that's why he went on holiday with Brian. And good luck to him, too — he was that kind of guy; he wanted Brian to know whom he should listen to. That was the relationship. John was very much the leader in that way, although it was never actually said. So there was the homosexual thing — I'm not sure John did anything but we certainly gave him a lot of grief when he got back.

Paul McCartney, The Beatles Anthology, 2000

My sense of the trip to Barcelona is that it was an intriguing situation because John left his wife to go on this holiday, who was still in hospital having given birth to her first child. So it was an extraordinary thing, but John wanted to go on holiday with Brian and there was a great bond between them. John knew that Brian was going and he also knew that Brian was very attracted to him and I think this intrigued John. My understanding only comes from Brian. I never discussed this with John but I heard that there were lots of discussions about the business of homosexuality and Brian’s homosexuality. But I think it’s wrong to discuss something which is really rather significant when I only know one side of the picture.

Peter Brown, Debbie Geller, In My Life: The Brian Epstein Story, 2000

It had nothing to do with advancement of career. John knew that he already had Brian as an ally; he knew that Brian liked him, was attracted to him and stimulated by his intellect. Anyway, I don’t believe John was that manipulative. And the idea of going along with it, and trying to take advantage of it, just wouldn’t have been Brian’s way.

Peter Brown, Norman Philip, John Lennon: The Life, 2008

It was during the same discussion that he told me that he and John Lennon had been lovers. Now that’s too much for me to take on. We’d never talked about his personal life before, so I left the room.

Lonnie Trimble, Debbie Geller, In My Life: The Brian Epstein Story, 2000

#mostly just for me to have it in one place :)#might add more if i dig something up #he was 100% heterosexual #but he 'encouraged stories about them being gay lovers.... because he thought it was funny'....................#(all straight people do that don't they?)#but he beat bob up for insinuating they were #but then again what's a fucking wank between friends anyway???#brian epstein #john lennon #jb #quote #ref #m

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viesantewrites · 2 months

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𝒮𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓈

(Older) Robert Fischer - Inception

summary: For the second time in his life, Robert Fischer is faced with a major decision: whether or not to take over his father's company. After his father's death, Fischer Morrow was split up and Peter Browning bought part of it but Robert remained an employee rather than a CEO. Over the past ten years, Browning has been approaching retirement and Robert is now 40. He is struggling emotionally with his divorce and the mockery of his ex-wife. The situation intensifies when he falls in love with a beautiful woman at the company and begins to see her in his dreams.

angst, divorced parents, age gap, but not that big, both characters are adults (8 years) Robert is 40, OC is 32.

if i should continue this please let me know

thought about quitting writing but i‘m just having way too much fun :D

Masterlist

The room was filled with the shrill ringing of the alarm. Robert rolled over grumbling and buried his head sleepily under his pillow. Finally the noise stopped and he sighed with relief, closing his eyes and trying to fall back asleep. He lay there for half an hour before suddenly jumping out of bed and grabbing the clock on his bedside table in a panic.

Damn it, he had overslept again!

He climbed out of bed, rushed to the bathroom and began to shower in record time. When was he going to learn to get up at the first alarm? Since she had left, this had happened to him almost every week. He quickly got out of the shower, dried himself off, brushed his teeth and tried to get dressed at the same time. The white shirt smelled of detergent as he put it on. Lost in thought, he spat the toothpaste foam into the sink and began to knot his tie. He was lucky to have mastered this almost instinctively, as Robert, the son of a once powerful energy CEO, had worn formal attire since childhood.

It was far too warm for a suit and tie today, but the company he worked for had a strict dress code for men. He quickly zipped up his black pants, fastened his belt, combed through his hair and finally stormed out of the bathroom.

"Daddy?" he suddenly heard a quiet voice from the hallway, and Robert turned around.

He saw two large blue eyes staring up at him, and then it hit him like a ton of bricks. He had almost forgotten that his daughter was staying here for the weekend.

"Chloe, sweetheart, I... Damn, school starts in fifteen minutes!" He slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand.

Chloe pulled her stuffed animal, which she was holding in her arms, a little closer and shook her head in confusion. "No, I have summer vacation. You were supposed to take me back to Mommy."

Robert closed his eyes briefly and exhaled. If he had to take his daughter to his ex-wife now, he would definitely be late for work. On the other hand, he couldn’t leave Chloe here alone all day. "Can’t your mother pick you up?"

Yeah, she could, but she won’t, Robert thought. He could almost hear her voice echoing in his head, even when she wasn’t even present: "It‘s your own fault if you can’t get up on time."

"What about Mr Norton?" Chloe asked.

"You know he's sick right now," he sighed.

Norton had been Robert’s personal chauffeur since he was 17. As a teenager, Robert never really appreciated the luxury, as wealth seemed completely normal to him. But as he grew older, he realized how lucky he had been. Especially now that Norton had suffered a herniated disc and Robert has been left to fend for himself.

Sighing, Robert ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. "I guess we have no choice. Quick, get changed," he said, pointing to Chloe's pink pajamas.

***

The morning sun shone brightly in the sky with not a cloud in sight. It was already clear that it would be a beautiful summer day. Robert slowly drove his black Bentley into the slightly too small driveway of his ex-wife's house. It was always a big change for Chloe to move from her father's mansion with a swimming pool, a big garden and a garage for four expensive cars to her mother's small rented apartment.

Nicole had obviously noticed his arrival and was standing at the front door with her arms crossed, scrutinising her ex-husband who was holding their daughter's hand and carrying her purple backpack in the other. She approached in a mocking tone: "It's always amusing to see you trying to park that thing. If you own such a fancy car, you should at least be able to drive it."

Robert sighed. "You know I usually have a chauffeur."

At his words, she simply rolled her eyes. "Isn’t Mr Businessman a bit late for work?" Nicole asked.

“Chloe comes first,” Robert replied firmly.

“Oh really? Suddenly now?” she hissed angrily, so quietly that only he could hear it.

Without another word, he handed Chloe’s backpack to his ex-wife, knelt down, and hugged his daughter. “Goodbye, Chloe. See you next weekend.”

“No, Daddy, please don’t go,” Chloe began to cry, burying her face in Robert’s white shirt, and it almost broke his heart.

Nicole stood beside them, observing the scene with her arms crossed and lips pressed tightly together. She knew exactly that Chloe loved him more than her, and no matter how much she tried to make her not like him anymore, he remained her favorite.

Robert gave her a farewell kiss on the forehead, released her from the hug, and waved one last time at little Chloe. "Take care!'"

“Bye, Dad!” she sniffled a bit but forced a smile.

Nicole placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder and then guided her toward the front door.

Robert ran back to his car, glanced at the clock, and felt the sweat on his forehead.

***

Breathless, he hurried down the hall of Browning Morrow (formerly Fischer Morrow), trying to ignore the amused glances from his colleagues and greeted them politely.

He finally arrived at his office, slightly sweaty, threw his briefcase onto the desk, opened the window, and, defying the dress code, took off his suit jacket.

Robert sank into his chair, switched on his PC and flicked through his planner. Damn it, he had that stupid annual security training at half past nine. He still had to scan some important documents and email them to a client who was already waiting impatiently for them. "If I don't do it now, I'll be in trouble," Robert thought.

With a sigh, he tucked the stack of papers under his arm and headed for the scanner in the hallway. God, he had a thousand other things to do, and scanning was just a waste of time.

Suddenly, Robert held his breath and turned his head slightly. There she was again, one of the few bright spots in his dreary daily routine.

His eyes were fixed on her as she walked down the corridor in her high heels. Her long, dark blonde hair was down today and fell over her shoulders, the elegant white skirt and beige sleeveless top looked stunning on her figure, complemented by matching gold jewellery. When she saw Robert standing in the hallway, she smiled and started to walk towards him.

Her name was Victoria Nathan and she was a new secretary at Browning Morrow. Robert had noticed her on the first day, and he was pretty sure he wasn't the only man who had taken an interest in her.

"Can I help you with something, Mr…What was your name again? Fischer?" she asked, looking at him curiously with her emerald green eyes.

Robert’s heart started pounding wildly, and he could feel his cheeks turning slightly pink.

“Oh God, of course, you’re the son of the former CEO. I’m so embarrassed, I’m sorry. I always have a bit of trouble remembering names and faces.”

Robert laughed nervously again. What was wrong with him? He had never been shy, especially not with women, but for some reason, she completely threw him off balance.

“Wait, are you the Associate CEO, aside from Browning?” she asked.

“It’s fine, I forget names quite often too. No, I‘m not, I'm a senior consultant. I advise the company on solving problems, developing strategies and optimising processes," he replied, sounding a little more confident and professional.

“Sounds great, Mr Fischer.” Ms Nathan gave him a charming smile and then pointed to the stack under his arm. “What’s this?”

“Oh, these are just documents I need to scan. I'm under a bit of time pressure because I've got a few other things to do, and at 9:30..."

"Is the safety training, I know. I'll be there later as well. Should I scan the documents for you? I have some time right now," she offered.

"You would be a great help, Ms Nathan," Robert said, smiling as his heart began to race again.

She carefully took the stack from him.

"I‘m glad to help you, Sir."

"Oh, and could you email the documents to Mr Kingsley on my behalf? His contact details are on the front page."

“Of course, Mr Fischer", she said with a smile and a nod.

“Thank you, you’re a gem!” Robert blurted out, and his cheeks immediately turned red again.

Ms Nathan giggled a little, waved goodbye, and turned to leave.

For a brief moment, Robert stood alone in the middle of the hallway, unable to gather his thoughts.

***

Just before 9:30, Robert entered the meeting room and took a seat in one of the empty chairs. The room was already quite full, with more employees streaming in. Among them were James Clearwood and Matthew Harrington, with whom he had attended college. They were the only people in the company who actually called Robert by his first name and with whom he had a sort of friendship.

“Robert, buddy! Haven’t seen you in ages!” James said, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"It's actually been about three weeks, James," Matthew added with a laugh as he sat down in the empty chair next to him.

"Matthew said there'd be free cake, otherwise I wouldn't have come," James remarked.

“Every employee has to do the training once a year,” Robert said. “It’s mandatory. Still, I don’t see why, I sit at my desk all day analyzing data. How could I possibly have an accident?”

"The way you sit in that chair, it could happen at any time," James grinned, mimicking Robert's characteristic, somewhat awkward sitting position.

Matthew joined in the laughter.

“So, Robert…wanted to ask you this for weeks now…", James finally said.

Confused, Robert looked at him. “What do you mean?”

He grinned and gave him another friendly pat on the shoulder. “Well, I heard Browning will retire next year. How old is he, 63? 64? And you‘d be the perfect replacement."

Robert sighed and bit his lower lip. He had suspected this conversation would come up sooner or later. "I don't know, I'm torn. I think it's too much responsibility for me. I'm happy with my current position, to be honest. It's important and one of the best paid jobs, but it doesn't involve full leadership."

James raised an eyebrow. “Robert, you were born into the family business. Who knows the company better than you?”

"Why didn’t you take over the company when your father passed away?” Matthew asked.

"I was too young and inexperienced. It was over ten years ago, and I had just finished my studies three years earlier..." Robert's explanation trailed off.

"Well, you have enough work experience now. If I were you, I'd really think about it," James said, his tone now a bit more serious.

But Robert wasn't really listening anymore. He had spotted Victoria Nathan in the crowd again. With her usual friendly smile, she poured coffee into cups and handed them out. She had tucked her blonde hair behind her ear, but one strand had come loose and was hanging in her face.

"Robert?" James nudged him in the side but then noticed where he was looking. "Oh, no, no, no. Forget it," he said, leaning back in his chair. "She's young and extremely pretty. Don't get your hopes up."

Robert glared at him. "Do you have to be so blunt?"

Matthew immediately jumped into the conversation. "You act like Robert's some ugly dude. Come on, he looks better than both of us combined. He's got the best chances out of the three of us, even though he's the oldest."

"You're married, if I may remind you," Robert said, staring at him in disbelief.

"Aren‘t you too?" Matthew retorted immediately.

"I've been divorced for two years."

Matthew sighed briefly. "Sorry, I keep forgetting that."

"Robert doesn't seem to have forgotten it the way he's staring at that girl," James laughed.

Robert sighed and buried his face in his hands. "Seriously, how old do you think she is?"

James was thinking for a moment. "26. No, wait, 27", he finally answered.

"She's 32," Matthew suddenly said, and the other two looked at him in astonishment.

"How do you know that?" James eventually asked.

"My sister knows her best friend."

"And then you ask her how old she is? You're married!" Robert said, slapping his forehead as James burst out laughing.

"I swear to God, Matthew always seems so calm and composed, but he's the most unhinged person I know."

Matthew crossed his arms over his chest. "It was a perfectly normal question, just out of curiosity. We somehow started talking about her, and I just mentioned that she seems pretty young to have that much professional experience."

James only laughed harder at these words.

But Robert was lost in thought again. "She's 8 years younger than me. That's not so much..."

"Go ahead and try if you want. But you’ve got some serious competition. Almost every guy in the company is interested in her", James said more seriously now. "I don’t know if you’re her type, Robert. She seems to go for the younger guys here. Apparently, she’s interested in that new blond guy who graduated recently. I think he’s only 24 or something."

Robert scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I wonder why she wants such a young man. He's got nothing to offer her."

"Not all women are after money, Robert."

Robert sighed and rubbed his temples. "I think we should stop now. We're acting like high school boys."

"I thought it was funny," James remarked. "Hey, there's cake over there!" He immediately stood up and disappeared into the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please?" A loud voice suddenly boomed from the speakers. Robert leaned back in his chair, knowing he had several long hours ahead of him.

***

When Robert finally finished work, the sun was still high in the sky, giving the impression that it wasn't going to set at all today. It was scorching hot as Robert walked through the nearby park. He almost wanted to take off his terribly itchy suit and jump into the pond. Tired, he turned on his phone and immediately noticed that he had two missed calls from Nicole. Sighing, he called her back.

"Chloe left her stuffed animal at your house. You know she can't sleep without that silly thing," she said.

"You mean the little bunny? I can’t come over again, Nicole," Robert grumbled, kicking a pebble in front of him.

"Fine, I'll try to distract her and come by tomorrow to pick it up," she replied, hanging up without another word.

Shaking his head, Robert put his phone back in his pocket when he suddenly heard quiet laughter among the trees. Curious, he turned in the direction it came from. Instantly, he bit his lip and wished he hadn't. It was Victoria Nathan and the blond college graduate. They were sitting on a bench under a weeping willow, engaged in a lively conversation. The young man eventually leaned in, cupped her face in his hands, gently stroked her chin, and kissed her.

Robert immediately turned on his heel and hurried away. Thoughts raced through his mind, and his heart began to feel oddly heavy, but he tried to ignore it and kept running until he finally reached the parking lot. He got into his Bentley, stepped on the accelerator and drove off.

On the way home, he continued to fight his emotions, but they wouldn’t leave him alone. He was acting like a schoolboy, yet he was an influential and successful grown man, possibly about to take over an entire company. How could he let such silly feelings like jealousy or heartbreak overcome him, especially over a woman who likely didn’t care about him at all and didn’t even remember his name? Robert pressed harder on the gas pedal and nearly ran a red light.

Suddenly, Nicole's voice reappeared in his mind. At first, it was very faint, but it grew louder and louder until he couldn’t ignore it anymore:

"What do you expect from her? You know you're incapable of maintaining a relationship. What do you want to do, huh? Marry her, promise to give her everything she wants? Make a child with her, only to neglect them and prioritize your job over your family, just like you did before?"

Robert breathed quickly, trying to silence the voice in his head. With shaking hands, he finally drove into his garage, pushed open the door and gasped for air. The lock clicked quietly as he turned the key to his front door. Of course, it was doubly secured and equipped with a security camera.

"Chloe, Daddy's home!" he called, but then he remembered that he had taken her back to her mother's that morning. His luxurious mansion offered nothing but emptiness. All the money in the world couldn’t change the fact that he felt unbearably lonely.

In the bathroom, he let cold water run over his face and hands. Robert stared thoughtfully at his reflection. He had changed so much over the past ten years since his father had died. His slim figure, big blue eyes, small nose, and freckles had always given him a youthful appearance. Robert had long been mistaken for being much younger than he was, even at nearly 30, he could pass as a college student. That had changed now. He didn't look old at all, just more mature, more sophisticated, more masculine. His features had become sharper, and when Robert laughed, he had slight wrinkles around his eyes. His dark hair was beginning to turn slightly gray at the temples, which he tried to hide with hair dye.

As the son of a successful businessman, he had to wear formal attire from a young age. It always looked like a child wearing his father's clothes, even when he was in his 20s, but now it just looked... right. Like he actually owned those clothes. He was constantly receiving compliments on how attractive and handsome he was, but he never really believed them, especially not today after seeing Victoria with her young lover.

Robert quickly dried his face and left the bathroom. Tonight he would go to bed early for a change. His fingers carefully traced the numerous picture frames on his dresser or hanging on the wall. Most of them were photos of Chloe smiling into the camera, like from her first day at school last year. The pictures of Nicole he had burned.

His eyes wandered to an older photo that was quite faded. It showed his uncle Peter at his wedding, holding a little two-year-old Robert in his arms. The next picture was taken about 25 years later. He bit his lower lip as he looked at it. He looked young and happy in it, wearing a graduation gown. Standing next to him were Uncle Peter and Robert‘s father Maurice, who was already looking rather ill. He quickly turned and left the living room. As he finally lay down in his warm bed, his eyes closed within seconds. The day had been incredibly exhausting for him, and he immediately drifted off into his deepest subconscious.

It was bright in front of him, the sun was shining, but everything looked just vague and blurry. Suddenly, the contours sharpened, and Robert could see the small park where he had walked that afternoon. The little white bench under the weeping willow appeared suddenly, and with it, Victoria. It was the same scene he had witnessed earlier, but with one significant difference: the man Victoria was kissing so passionately wasn’t the blond college graduate but Robert himself. Her hands ran gently down Robert's white shirt, up to his neck, and then disappeared into his dark hair. Robert's heart felt incredibly warm and he wished that whatever he was seeing would never end. The scene held for a moment, but then it abruptly broke and shifted.

Suddenly Robert opened his eyes and it was pitch black around him. The air was incredibly humid and warm, and he began to cough. He was alone in his room, with no sign of Victoria. Disappointed, he rubbed his eyes and got up quickly to open the window and let in some cool night air.

Thoughtfully, he stared into the dark night. He had only known this woman for a month, and now he was already dreaming of her. of But perhaps, deep down, it was his desire. Someone who loved him with all his heart where he felt completely comfortable and accepted. One of the few things he never had and which money could not buy. Deep inside, his heart felt incredibly lonely, even though he would never admit it. He quickly wiped away the single tear that rolled down his cheek with a quick hand.

…………………………………………………………………………..

yes i know thats lenny miller on the pics but i think he looks like older Robert :D

thank you for reading! currently working on timeless love part 3! :)

#cillian murphy #cillian #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian x y/n #robert fischer x reader #inception #cillian x fem!reader #inception fanfiction #robert fischer #inception imagine

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 4 months

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I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 13

AO3

Summary: As D-Day looms, Frankie fights not to feel the pressure

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 3.4k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58 @justheretoreadthxxs

A/N: WE'RE BACK!! sorry this chapter took a while! I was finishing up with uni and everything has been sooo hectic, but please enjoy this! <3

The runway had never seemed so alive, not even on a mission day - men scurrying back and forth, unloading supplies this way and that, mechanics swarming around the planes like moths to a flame. With D-Day on the immediate horizon, time was of the essence, and no one wanted to be the person to fuck it up.

Frankie had clambered into the wheel well of one of the bombers, invisibly from the waist up to any passersby as she worked away, tightening bolts and ensuring the landing mechanisms were all working perfectly. A screwdriver clenched between her teeth, hand stained with grease, sweat plastered stray wisps of hair to her temples, the afternoon heat exacerbated by the pressure of their work. "Bevan!" One of the officers called as he marched over, face growing visible through the gap in the metal below her. "Bevan, I swear to god, I need you to come look at the temperature bulbs, I've asked you already, will you please-"

Letting out a huff, she pulled the screwdriver from her mouth, leaning back on one elbow as she stared down at the man. She couldn't remember his name. "Calm the fuck down, alright? I've told you I'll get to it - I'll fucking get to it. I've done my time in customer service, love - if you yell at me, I'm not doing it."

With a scoff, the officer began to walk away, muttering to himself about professionalism as he went. If anything, Frankie was just glad she didn't actually work for the Americans. She didn't quite know what she'd have done if she couldn't ignore them. Resuming her work, she grunted as she tightened another bolt, humming mindlessly as she began to murmur the words to her tune, brow furrowed in concentration.

"Never saw the sun shinin' so bright, never saw things lookin' so right... hmm hm hmm... blue days, all of 'em gone..."

"Hello!" Another voice called, loud and jovial and making Frankie jump, accidentally smacking her forehead against one of the metal support bars as she whipped her head around.

"Shit!"

"Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry," ATS Private Maeve Scarrow called from the tarmac below, expression pinched in sympathy as she peered up from under the brim of her cap. "It's just, uh - I've got the replacement fan blades you asked for in the truck."

"No worries," She grunted, rubbing at the sore spot, already feeling a bruise begin to bloom. "Thanks, Maeve. Just leave 'em there, I'll get 'em."

"Okay! Oh, and Lemmons is just... sorta standing here. I don't know if you know about that."

Brow furrowed, Frankie crouched down on her ladder, momentarily re-emerging from within the plane's wing. "What do you want?"

Ken stood in polite, patient silence, hands folded behind his back until she addressed him. "You hungry?"

"... What?"

Raising one hand, he produced a paper bag from behind his back. "Got sandwiches. Want one?"

She hadn't realised how starving she was until the prospect of food was presented, and suddenly her stomach was growling. "Yes," Frankie nodded, and he stepped forward, holding one of the sandwiches up to her mouth so that she could eat without touching anything, her hands still utterly filthy.

"This is all... weird, right?" She asked after a moment of silence, mouth still full.

"What's weird?" Ken frowned, biting off the corner of her sandwich.

"Yunno - we've been waiting for this for ages, and now it's actually happening and it feels... surreal."

"Big day, that's for sure," He nodded. "It just... it better work, s'all."

"It will."

"Didn't know you were such an optimist."

"Times change, Ken," Frankie shrugged, craning her head forward to take another bite.

Lemmons smiled softly. "... So. How's your guy?"

Pausing to chew, she nodded along as he spoke. "Yeah, he's good - I think being a Major suits him. He likes feeling like he can actually help the new guys, yunno?"

"You ain't worried?"

"Always. But you work through it." Frankie's brow furrowed, looking down to scratch at the dirt beneath her nails. Reaching out, Ken squeezed her shoulder gently, and she met his eye with a smile.

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"I'm gonna be honest with you here, I think this is a terrible idea," George stated, placing a fresh cup of coffee on the corner of Crosby's desk as she passed on the way to her own. Blakely was perched on the edge of her desk, peering at the papers in his hands and looking up with a warm smile as she approached. The pair had spent the last two days watching Crosby with expressions of increasing concern as exhaustion steadily took a greater and greater toll on the man.

"George, I just gotta get these maps done," Harry sighed, dragging a hand through his hair to scrape it out of his face.

"Not sure I'd wanna fly with maps made by a guy who was practically comatose when he did 'em," Everett pointed out. "Just sayin'."

She nodded in agreement. "This whole 'macho man' 'I-can-do-anything' bullshit is a little embarrassing, Croz. At this point you've either gotta take a serious nap or snort some coke if you wanna keep going."

"You're both very unhelpful," Crosby grumbled, hunched forwards so far over his maps that they could barely see his face.

"Oh, and Kidd wants you in his office," George added. Throwing up his hands in despair, Harry rose to his feet, taking the coffee with him as he left the room, muttering to himself.

Shrugging, she turned on her heel with a sigh, brushing against Blakely's knee as she returned to her seat at the desk. He was silent for a long moment, flicking through the file in his hand until he spoke. "... So this is bad, right?"

"Oh, definitely."

"Great, just checking... D'you wanna get dinner when we're done with all this?"

An involuntary grin made its way across George's face, a surprised bubble of laughter escaping her throat. "You mean after the invasion of Nazi-occupied Europe?"

"Well, yeah. Future of the free world's relying on George Aarons, I won't deprive 'em."

She beamed, fighting to suppress a giggle as her cheeks flushed a deep pink. Ev glanced over at her when she wasn't looking, a smirk curling his lip. George resumed her work, tapping away at the typewriter keys to distract herself, still feeling his gaze on her, shaking her head slightly in mock disapproval at such blatant a flirt.

After a short while, Crosby emerged from Kidd's office, and - if possible - he appeared in even worse shape than he had mere minutes ago, swaying on his heels as he took one wobbly step after another, eyes barely half-open. Still lingering at George's desk, the pair watched him wander out with shared frowns of concern, awaiting what suddenly seemed inevitable.

"Is he-?"

"Yep."

Before he could take his next step, Harry teetered and keeled over to one side, hitting the floor with an audible thud as those around him leapt to their feet in his aid. Exchanging a pointed look, Blakely stood up, bending down to whisper in George's ear before he too went to help. "If you're gonna laugh, you gotta do it outside."

Raising her hands in surrender, her expression contorted with mocking disbelief. "I'm not going to laugh!" She protested, and he furrowed his brow at her before heading towards where Crosby lay unconscious.

Scarcely a minute passed before Everett noticed her again, crossing the room towards the door, jaw clenched tightly as she visibly suppressed a smile. He chuckled, shaking his head.

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Frankie's back rested up against the outside of the mechanics' hut, the sun heating the metal so that the warmth seeped through her clothes, legs crossed and tucked beneath herself as she sat cross-legged in the grass. A newspaper lay unfurled across her lap, creasing itself over her knees as she surveyed its contents, rarely making it beyond the headlines and pictures. The movement of a shadow across the lawn caught her eye, and looking up, a grin began to crease her cheeks as she noticed Rosie making his way towards her, hands folded behind his back.

"Aha!" Frankie exclaimed, calling over to him. "Welcome to the feast. We've got, uh... some crackers! And... this carrot," She nodded, holding up the half-eaten carrot in her hand.

"You're just gnawing on that like a rabbit, huh?" He smiled, pausing as he reached her and positioning himself between her and the sun, casting her in shadow so that she didn't have to squint.

"The propaganda posters say they help you see in the dark," She shrugged, patting the grass beside her so that he would sit down. Rosie let out a grunt as he lowered himself onto the ground, pulling his hand out from behind his back to reveal a fistful of freshly picked poppies. A faint squeak of surprise escaped her, eyes widening slightly at the flowers as she took another bite of her carrot, tossing her newspaper to one side, swiftly forgotten. "Where'd you get those?"

"There's a whole bunch a few fields over, just bloomed these last couple days. George told me they're your favourite the first time I met her, but I could never find any."

Frankie frowned slightly. "Why'd she tell you that?"

Head lolling to the side, Rosie raised a brow. "Why'd you think, honey?"

She slowly began to nod. "Fair enough. Y'know-" She said, wagging her finger at him. "-I did know you had a crush on me back then."

He scoffed loudly, head shaking side to side in dissent. "What? No you didn't!"

"Of course I did! You weren't as slick as you thought you were, buddy."

"No, no - you don't get to talk. You almost kissed me one time and you ran away and refused to talk to me for weeks."

"That was way later!" Frankie cried. "That is not the same thing!"

Rosie laughed, pressing his shoulder against hers. "Whatever - just shut up and take your flowers, okay?" He grinned, holding the bouquet out to her.

She let out a chuckle, reaching out for them. "Thank you, dear."

"Yeah, yeah, love you," He jokingly rolled his eyes, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her lips. Humming, he pulled away slightly, their noses still touching. "You smell bad."

"All for you, sweetheart," Frankie teased, and he laughed before going in for another kiss. She broke away with a grin, shifting sideways to rest her head against his shoulder, rolling the stem of one of the poppies between her finger and thumb.

"I got a call from George earlier... Apparently Croz is out for the count - passed out right in the middle of the office."

"Holy shit," Rosie's brow furrowed, bolting upright, and was about to make to stand when she put a hand on his arm, bringing him back down.

"Nah, he just needs to sleep. She was pissing herself on the phone, so he's fine," Frankie chuckled slightly, recalling George's laughter as she had described the way the navigator 'absolutely ate shit' in vivid detail. Once Rosie had settled, steadily accepting that his friend wasn't in need of help, he nestled back against the wall of the hut, stretching his arms out to wrap them around her shoulders, tugging her tight against his chest as she smiled.

"Called my dad last night - he asked me to make sure you're feelin' good before tomorrow."

"Oh, your dad wants to know, huh?" He asked incredulously, peering down at her with a raised brow and a smirk. Frankie was practically lying across his lap, his arms a vice grip around her shoulders, allowing just enough movement for her to reach up and twist the stray curl hanging against his forehead around the tip of her finger.

"Look, I know you'll be fine - you're a fuckin' pro," She tittered. "I think he's just concerned you'll condemn me to spinster-hood if anything goes wrong tomorrow."

"It would certainly be a loss to the world if no one ever got to see you in a wedding dress," Rosie teased, squeezing gently at the flesh of her arm.

"Oh piss off," She snorted, batting at his hand. "You think I couldn't find someone else to take me if you go down in a blaze of glory? I'm a catch."

"Awful. Horrible," He shook his head, letting her go as she let out a guffaw, resting on her back across his thighs. "Terrible - you're a terrible wife."

Frankie shrugged. "Could find someone who wouldn't call me a terrible wife n'all." Rosie reached around to the side of her stomach, digging a knuckle into the ticklish patch of skin above her waist, and she let out a shriek, kicking out her legs as she pushed herself upright, his expression creasing as he laughed. She opened her mouth wide in fake outrage, smacking him across the chest with the back of her hand. Before she could retract it, he seized her wrist, placing a kiss to her palm as she echoed his laughter.

It was easier to exist like this. At least, she knew it was for him. To simply be, to pretend nothing was coming - to put on a brave face and ignore the fact that tomorrow he would get into his plane and that, like every other time, there was a chance he wouldn't come back. Living in the future, in the 'what-if?', was going to kill them both eventually. It was easier to act like nothing was coming, and open themselves to the consequences once it was over. To mop up the blood at the end of a long day spent pretending they didn't know it would always be there.

She knew that Rosie needed this. He'd never ask, but he needed someone who didn't look to him for answers and wisdom and a plan to do the impossible. He needed Frankie to make him laugh, to give him a tiny sliver of time where he wasn't a Major or a pilot or the guy who flew twenty-five goddamn missions and came straight back for more - he was just Rosie. She could do that. She could make that her job. It was easy to do when she was doing it for him. As easy as breathing.

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The planes had left three hours ago. In the officers' club, a radio had been set up atop the bar, playing the BBC broadcast since eight o'clock that morning, chairs clustered in a tight semi-circle as people listened in, desperate to catch every development. George had popped in on her break, lingering by the door for just long enough to notice Frankie's absence. The other mechanics had all assembled, functionally inert until the planes returned, but she had not been among them. Ken met George's eye from across the room and shrugged, silently confirming that he hadn't seen her. In an instant, she knew exactly where to look.

Frankie looked up as the door to their hut swung open, smiling at George as she entered from where she sat cross-legged upon the bed, shoes discarded in a heap on the floor. Her bouquet of poppies had spent the night in a vase on the bedside table, but now she was taking scissors to the stems, chopping them down and splaying the petals neatly upon the pages of her book.

There was no need to ask. George knew she was distracting herself, knew exactly what she was doing with the flowers - preserving them as a manifestation of the subconscious fear that Rosie wouldn't be coming back to give her any more. Wordlessly, she crossed the room towards her bed, reaching underneath it to retrieve the heftiest hardback she owned, so heavy that the mattress creaked as she put it down beside Frankie. She looked up at her, brow raised.

"That one's heavier. It'll press them flatter."

"Thanks," She smiled, beginning to transfer the flowers from one book to the other. It was silent for a long while as she did this, and George perched on the edge of the mattress, feet dangling onto the floor.

"... I'm not hiding, or avoiding anything, by the way," Frankie pointed out, still staring down at her work.

"You think I'd fucking judge you if you were?" George frowned. "You do whatever you have to, I'm gonna be here either way."

She looked up at her then, the faintest of smiles curling her lip as she simply stared for a while.

"You're basically the love of my life."

"Well, obviously - who else was it gonna be?" George snorted, and Frankie began to grin, wordlessly passing over the last of the untouched poppies so that she could join in. With gentle fingers, they splayed each petal, sliding the flowers in place between the well-worn pages of George's book. It was undoubtedly an act of love. For whom, it didn't really matter.

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Crosby's eyes opened slowly to the sound of laughter, a gentle afternoon breeze blowing across his cheek as he blinked against the sudden sunlight. His head lolled to the side as he gradually took in the scene around him, and for a moment no one noticed he'd even awoken. Rosie sat on the bed beside him, using his thumb to mark the page in his book as he looked up with a smile. The window had been propped all the way open, and Frankie leant her shoulder against the frame, arms folded across her chest as she chatted in hushed tones, George just visible beside her. The two women were forbidden from entering the men's huts, but with the window open so far and their bodies leaning through, they were practically inside anyway.

"Oh shit - the great navigator lives," George said, and Harry could practically hear the smirk in her voice. He blinked hard, trying to adjust his eyes well enough to make out the time on Rosie's watch as the Major grinned at him.

"What time is it?" He asked blearily, pushing himself up slowly on one elbow.

"Hmm, seven-thirty?" Frankie guessed, squinting as she peered up at the sky. Rosie nodded in confirmation.

A sudden jolt of adrenaline shot through him. Harry could picture his maps on the office table, just sitting there, painfully incomplete as the clock ticked each second steadily away. Before he even registered his movement, he was on his feet, scrambling for his clothes. "There's still time! There's still time, come on, goddammit - why are you all standing around!?" He barked, panic lacing his every word. They didn't have time for this - they needed to get to work right now. Why wasn't anybody moving?

George was the first to break, taking a step back from the window as a cackle erupted from her throat, followed almost simultaneously by Frankie as she let out a snort, face reddening with laughter. Even Rosie had begun to chuckle. Harry suddenly realised he wasn't wearing any trousers.

"Seven-thirty Saturday, Croz," Rosie explained, the two women still giggling like schoolgirls, collapsing back into hilarity each time they made eye contact with one another. The realisation that he had missed the day they'd all been working towards hit like a freight train, knocking the wind from Harry's lungs, and he was certain he would've been devastated had the others not been there, grinning back at him. They were okay - hell, they were smiling, seemingly happier than they had been in weeks. It was an immediate balm, soothing the burn before it even had time to swell.

Crosby took a deep breath, trying his hardest to summon any words that might relay the moment.

"... Can you two get outta here until I put some pants on?"

Frankie snorted again, and George nodded hurriedly, clearly trying not to slip back into laughter. The pair stepped away from the window, their muffled voices floating back on the wind as they wandered away, linked at the elbow, until they'd vanished from earshot. Letting out a huff, Harry rummaged around until he found some trousers, shooting Rosie a look as he tugged them up over his hips.

"... Why'd you let 'em in when I don't have any pants on, man?" He asked, throwing his hands up in despair.

Rosie's brow furrowed in momentary confusion. "Well, what d'you expect me to do when Frankie shows up?"

"Not let her in?"

He tilted his head to the side, raising a brow as if to say 'Really?'. Croz let out a long sigh. "Right. Yeah, I remember... You guys are weird."

Rosie just shrugged.

#fic | i'm your man #rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal x oc #masters of the air #masters of the air oc #mota oc #mota fic #frankie x rosie #oc: frankie #oc: george #everett blakely #harry crosby #masters of the air fic #oc: maeve

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