seat back

paintbrushyy  asked:

Beka almost crashed cause he's staring at Yura changing clothes in the back seat!

Au where Otabek is the driver hired by Yuri’s dance company and after every show he drives Yuri home or the club or wherever it is he wants to go. So he just changes in the backseat and at first it’s a very modest quick change but when he notices Otabek noticing, he plays it up. One night Otabek almost runs a red light and has to slam on his breaks and Yuri leans forward and whispers “distracted are we?” Coyly in his ear and then closes the partition.

It gets progressively worse until one day they hire a new driver and the young dancer tumbles into the backseat with his new boyfriend, immediately crawling into his lap.

“Driver, roll up the partition please.”

anonymous asked:

There's not enough room for all five of them in a car with James

WE WILL MAKE ROOM! They can sit on laps, James can get a bigger car, a van with endless space in the back seat!! WE WILL DO THIS ONE DAY LIMELIGHTS!!! ❤️😂😇😊❤️

B.Y.O.B(aby) 

[Bechloe, one-shot, 12k words]

Summary: It’s the night of the annual Bellas/Trebles reunion kegger, and new moms Chloe and Beca still aren’t down with that whole ‘babysitter’ concept.  


Beca leans into the open back door of the car and grabs an overstuffed diaper bag, which she passes out behind her to Chloe.  Chloe tries to swing the bag through the door but in the process smacks Beca on the side of the head with it. 

 “Ahh!”

“Sorry!”

Leaning in further, Beca grabs yet another diaper bag, also stuffed.  “What is even in these, why did we bring so much stuff?”

“Beca.  Please don’t start.”

She pulls the second bag from the floor and hoists it awkwardly onto her shoulder, then begins tugging on the folded-up playpen.  Chloe reaches in to help, and they finally extract it from the back seat.

“Do we really need the playpen?” Beca can’t help asking.  “You know she won’t stay in it.”

“It’s for when she falls asleep,” Chloe explains.  Before Beca can close the door, she adds, “Grab those blankets, too.”

Beca suppresses an eye roll, but obediently ducks back into the car and retrieves a huge, unwieldy bundle of blankets, most of them printed with Disney characters.  She nudges the door shut with her knee and attempts to fold and condense the bundle into something smaller and less conspicuous.

“Okay, I think that’s it,” Chloe says, scanning their gear.  “We should be ready.”  She turns as if to head up the sidewalk toward Stacie’s house.

“Chlo,” Beca stops her, jerking her head toward the car.  “The baby?”

“Oh.  Right.”  Chloe winces and laughs a little, giving her a look that seems to say Don’t tell anyone about that.  She crosses around to the other side of the car and opens the back door.  She gives an exaggerated gasp, then croons, “Hiii!  Look who’s awake!”

Beca follows, peering in at Violet, who’s just blinking herself into full consciousness but nevertheless already smiling.  “Good timing,” she comments, not sure if she means it to be literal or ironic.

“Are you ready to party?” Chloe asks the baby.

“Your very first kegger, this is a big deal,” Beca says wryly.  “You know, I figured she’d start early, but I didn’t think it would be this early.”

Chloe sighs with weary tolerance, as if she’s heard it all before, more than once.  She unfastens the straps of the toddler-sized car seat and lifts the baby out of it.  Violet at first wraps her arms around her neck in an instant cuddle, but upon spotting Beca already turning to head toward the house, she shifts her allegiance.  “Mama!”

“She wants you, Bec.”  Chloe gives the baby a loud, robust kiss on the cheek before holding her out to relinquish.  “That’s fine,” she tells Violet, pretending to be insulted.  “I don’t want you anyway, you probably need to be changed.”

“Then I don’t want her either,” Beca jokes as she takes her.

“Too late!” Chloe says, completing the pass-off.  She picks up the playpen that Beca now can’t carry and hoists it under one arm, keeping the diaper bag balanced on the other shoulder.  “Okay.”  She takes a deep breath.  “Now we’re ready.”

[continue reading, ao3 or ff.net]

I’m honestly so, so, so glad that every other character took a back seat in the finale of The Balance Arc to the Tres Horny Boys.

Like. The entire adventure has revolved around these boys, and what they do and did and will, and I am just amazed at how Griffin grew into his role as a DM to uplift his players and their chatacters’ development, letting them take the reigns in their desires and giving them offers to guide them. I am amazed by how each player realized their characters were things that grew, imperfect and beautiful, and helped them blossom into people we know and love and relate to.

Not to say that the other characters were unimportant, but I’m glad there was no more elaboration, no one man dialogues, no tangents of thought. Just a focus on a journey of three boys who forgot they loved each other, and learned to again.

Great job, DM Griffin. And Great job, McElroys.

Meanwhile at a Burger King somewhere in the galaxy
  • Zarkon, slamming his fists on the counter: Give me the Black Lion!
  • Manager, dead inside: I'm sorry sir we're all out of black lion toys, please stop before we have to call the cops
  • Shiro, rolling by in a mini-van full of Black Lion toys, yelling out the window: You can't command the Burger King, you have to earn his trust!

Something Soon // Car Seat Headrest

Biting my clothes to keep from screaming
taking pills to keep from dreaming
I want to break something important
I want to kick my dad in the shins

I was referring to the present in past tense
it was the only way that I could survive it
I want to close my head in the car door
I want to sing this song like I’m dying

anonymous asked:

I was throwing shipping prompts at another author for fic ideas and I accidentally gave myself a ship (It's not really a ship, it's more like a dingy heading for a waterfall). Consider this: Shikamaru and Minato. After the 4th Shinobi War or with time travel involved, but still. Look at it.

:’D

So apparently I like this idea a lot oh my god. 


This is all massively troublesome, damn it, and Shikamaru only has himself to blame.

Somehow, it was a hell of a lot easier to disregard what flee on sight orders mean in the rush that came beforehand, in the uneasy alliance with a man who should have been dead several dozen times over by now. In seeing the lines in Sasuke’s face from too many sleepless nights, the way Sakura was activating her Strength of a Hundred Seal, the impossible determination in the slant of Naruto’s mouth and the fire in his eyes as he said this last attempt was too close, Shika. We’re going to send you somewhere you won’t be in danger. Just keep your head down and you’ll be fine.

Right. Head down. Fine. Which would have been a hell of a lot easier if he hadn’t landed smack dab in the middle of an alternate universe’s battlefield, practically on top of the Hokage.

Not his Hokage, because that would be too easy. And also not Hokage yet, so when Shikamaru had dragged himself off the ground and blurted, “Yondaime-sama!” in front of a squad of Iwa nin, it was close enough to spilling an S-rank secret that the Yondaime had immediately reacted.

The Iwa-nin are dead. Shikamaru got luckier. Slightly.

“Sorry,” Minato says almost bashfully, leaning over him to check the knots tying his hands. “Is that too tight? Can you feel your fingers?”

“I’d feel them better if you untied me,” Shikamaru complains, and wonders where the hell Sai landed. It’s the ANBU commander’s job to keep him safe, and he could really use some backup right now. And gods, if Shikamaru is counting on Sai to get him out of this mess, things have really gone south.

Minato smiles like it’s a joke, checks Shikamaru’s feet, and drops back into his seat across the small campfire. “We’ll be back in Konoha in a few days,” he says, like it’s any sort of consolation. “If you really don’t mean any harm, T & I will let you go in a day or two after that. You’ll be all right. All we want to know is how you got that information in the first place. Only the Sandaime, the Daimyo, and I are supposed to know.”

Being targeted to having information that other people want is becoming something of a pattern, Shikamaru thinks, faintly despairing. That’s what got him into this whole mess in the first place, and if he’d realized how troublesome it would be, he’d have left that damned scroll where he found it.

With a groan, he flops back to lie on the grass, staring balefully up at the stars, and it’s hardly comfortable with his hands tied behind him, but there aren’t really a lot of other options. He could definitely get out of the ropes if he tried, could probably get past Minato if he had the element of surprise on his side, but there’s no way he’d be able to escape the Yellow Flash without help. More help than Sai, at least. They’re both some of the best, but the Yellow Flash is better.

“I hate my life,” Shikamaru tells the stars.

There’s a quiet chuckle, and then Minato leans over him again, blue eyes warm in the shifting firelight. He dangles a ration bar over Shikamaru’s face, swinging it lightly, and says, “It might look better after a meal?”

Shikamaru sighs, but Minato has a point. He’s pretty useless right now, but if he can get the chance—

Well. For now being here is definitely safer than being in his Konoha, what with a band of very dedicated priests trying to kill him and retrieve the scroll that bonded itself to him.

…Shikamaru hates that that is a reasonable sentence that he can say and understand. It’s all Naruto’s fault somehow, he’s sure of it.

“Thanks,” he says, not quite grudgingly, and starts to pull himself up—

Long, callused fingers press a chunk of mealy protein against his lips, and Shikamaru is so startled his mouth opens automatically. Minato gives him a cheerful smile, settling next to him, and damn it, but Shikamaru’s always lowkey thought of him as gorgeous, but that was before he knew his hands smelled like honing oil and a trace of mint.

“Sorry,” Minato tells him sincerely. “I can’t risk untying you right now, but I can still feed you. No need to be rude about it, right?”

Shikamaru doesn’t quite swallow his tongue along with the ration bar, but it’s a near thing. And—maybe he’s spent too long around Choji, who takes food very seriously, but feeding another person is not what you do unless you mean it.

Oh no, Shikamaru thinks, staring at the man who killed twelve shinobi in the space of a few seconds, who had him tied up and pinned to the ground before he could even summon his shadows. Who’s sitting close now, their shoulders practically brushing.

Shikamaru isn’t exactly a stranger to sexual attraction—he’s been dealing with both Ino and Sai for years now, and their ongoing, insistent attempts to wrangle him into another threesome—but this…

This is goddamn troublesome, and Shikamaru objects wholeheartedly.

I will always love One Direction. But, I wish media would let it rest for now. I remember everywhere Niall went after “This Town” came out, it seemed like the song, and embarking on a solo career, took a back burner to questions about the band returning. 

Today, asking if they’ve spoken to each other is one thing, but playing a lengthy 1D montage while one is on a program to promote a solo album is just…unnecessary.

They’re not going on shows and giving interviews to talk about 1D. Leave the past in the past for a bit. Give them all time and the opportunity they deserve, to establish themselves as solo artists, without harping on about what was. Start the 1D talk again when the ten year reunion is imminent.

Our Little Secret - Part Eleven

Summary: Dean and you try something new on the way to your next hunt

Series Masterlist

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Square Filled: free space for @spnkinkbingo

Kink(s): Sexting

Word Count: 3400

Warnings: Smut, sexting, language, flashback in italics, texting is in bold and italics

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. I’m really loving these character and this series. Thank you for your wonderful responses. A special thank you to the people who looked this over for me.

***THE TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES IS CLOSED**

It’s been three weeks, three freaking weeks since Dean has touched you and you are dying.

The first two weeks had been because you were healing up. He was pretty sure you had cracked ribs and your shoulder had been really sore, so he wasn’t going to chance hurting you, even the couple of times you had insisted.

Then you had gotten the bright idea to tell him either he could have fun with you, or you would take care of it yourself. Dean promptly made sure the two of you shared a room with Sam at the next motel, a smug smile on his face, daring you to go right ahead. If you weren’t so nervous about being caught, you would have called his bluff.

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