#(no hashbrown obviously)

[penroseparticle]

Yes or no game: best way to eat potatoes?

Yes.

[medieval-canadian]

got breakfast at a campus tims before the exam. didn't realize until after i'd left that not a single thing in my order was taken down correctly

[sailoryooons]

Boyfriend Material | jjk (m)

☾ Pairing: Hockey Player!Jungkook x f. Reader 

☾ Summary: Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material – except when he is.  

☾ Word Count: 2,127

☾ Genre: FWB, Hint of Angst, Smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Friends with benefits who are very obviously pretending not to have feelings, being in a confusing relationship that is basically a relationship without titles, feelings of confusion and self-doubt, lying to oneself, mentions of some toxic interactions with other people/women, repressed feelings, explicit sexual content including oral (f. receiving) in the shower, honestly, in general, some very cliche/stereotypical conflict you’d find in a relationship with someone of status 

☾ Published: March 23, 2024

☾ A/N: This is a self-insert of one of the most confusing relationships I have ever had in my life and I will die on the hill that no one should date athletes because 98% of them are the rule, not the exception no matter how much they seem like it! TRAUMA!!! Also, should I have been dating a professional athlete for the sport I worked in? No!!!! This is for all the people who have been in a not-relationship-that-is-a-relationship why the fuck do people do that like it is okay to have feelings and call ur partner ur partner?? 

☾ A/N 2: This is drabble number six for the Drabble Challenge that I have been utterly failing at! Today I rolled for ‘athlete’ but I didn’t feel like writing actual sports so I was like :) I worked in sports for ten years, I can just share a glimpse of my life when I was 23 years old :) Enjoy 

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ 100 Drabble Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Song Inspiration

“Fuck, I’m so tired,” Jungkook groans, leaning back in the chair and stretching his arms. Sun beats down on his golden skin. You feel the heat of it on your back and the top of your head. It’s pleasant, the cool spring breeze threatening to send the napkins on the table running. “Wanna lay out at the pool?”

Finishing the rest of your coffee, you nudge the empty plate away from you. Where once an eggs benedict had stood is now smears of leftover yolk and a single onion you missed when eating your hashbrowns. 

“Not sick of me?” you ask, raising a brow. 

Jungkook isn’t looking at you, scrolling on his phone. The bill of his hat is pulled low, hiding most of his face as he squints down at the device held low in his lap. You wait patiently for his answer, running your finger up and down the now-empty glass as it sweats from the sun. 

“Nope,” he answers, popping the end of the word sharply. “Did you ever get your desk fixed? Yoongi said he would fix it if not.”

“I have not.” 

He nods. “He said he’ll swing by this afternoon. We can lay out at the pool at my place and then head to yours after?” 

Your mouth twitches. You don’t say it out loud because you don’t want to risk him backing out, but another full day spent with Jungkook is a surprise to you. Not because it doesn’t happen often – it does. But rather because it keeps happening more often.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material. He’d established that the first night he met you at a bar. Him being a professional athlete was a warning sign enough that you didn’t want to romance that but what had come afterward has been nothing short of surprising. 

Friendship and… well. You don’t know how to explain the extras. 

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material. But you do your groceries together on the weekend. You drop him off at the arena when they’re heading out for a road trip. You take him to doctor's appointments to monitor the knee injury from last season. 

You’re not Jungkook’s girlfriend but he takes you to team events. He lets himself in and does your laundry at your apartment while you’re at work so you don’t have to do it when you come home. He has his teammates fix furniture for you and they’ve asked you to babysit their kids. 

“Babe?” the endearment makes you blink a few times, realizing you’d been staring into your lap. Jungkook’s dark eyes are focused on you now, phone shoved into his pocket. “We don’t have to go to the pool. We can just nap.”

We. Not you. Jungkook is going to hang out with you regardless if you like his original idea or not. Your stomach flips in that way you hate, the way that you know you’re doing everything you said you wouldn’t.

“Sounds good.” 

Jungkook flashes a grin and you become acutely aware that thinking you could be friends with benefits without being anything more was a stupid idea. Jungkook is not made to be resisted, with round eyes that darken when he’s turned on, a giggle that contrasts with the big, broad-shouldered athlete built, a smile that lights up the room and can dispel any tension, a sweet voice that can tempt anyone the moment he pouts or when he decides to pur. 

You were fucked - literally and figuratively - that first night you let him in your apartment. 

Instead of thinking about it, you hide from the truth. Again. Jungkook is not boyfriend material, despite the fact that he pays for breakfast despite your protests, and reaches over the center console in the car to squeeze your thigh. 

“Mmm,” he hums, fingers skating over your flash and making you squirm in the passenger seat. “Warm.”

“I was sitting in the sun.”

“I like it.”

Jungkook likes a lot about you. He tells you all the time, very open about how he likes the way you taste, likes the way you organize your books by color, likes the way you sing in the shower, likes the way you speak in Star Wars quotes. 

Perhaps that’s what makes you the most wary about him. He says he’s not boyfriend material, but his actions betray his words. And you let them, every single time. 

Jungkook smells like sunscreen, sweat, and a little bit of his cologne from earlier that morning. You’re hyperaware of him as you lounge on the cabana bed together, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his firm body. 

His tattooed arm is tossed over his eyes, blocking out the sun as he snores a little. Careful not to knock into him, you lean over him and grab his phone to check the time. You haven’t been lounging in the sun long, but you don’t want him to get a sunburn.

Again. 

You wager you can stay a little longer, placing the phone back down under his discarded shirt where it can hide from the sun’s heat. Sitting back in your spot, you pick up your book from your sweaty thighs as the sound of the gate to the pool yard opening catches your attention. 

Some of Jungkook’s teammates live in the same apartment complex. It’s easier that way, especially for the players who get sent up and down from the minors. You catch a few of the younger players with a few girls you don’t know the name of tugging a cooler on wheels behind them with a speaker blaring. 

Jungkook doesn’t so much as move. He can sleep through anything – has slept through you falling into his gaming setup while trying to get to the bathroom drunk. His slumbering leaves you to watch them head to the beds a few over from yours. 

One of the girls notices you. You don’t recognize her specifically, but she recognizes Jungkook. Looks back at you. Frowns and mutters something to one of the other girls, who is not very subtle as she cranks her head around in your direction. 

You don’t wince anymore. It’s not an uncommon thing, among these circles. You refuse to engage with any of it. You used to tell yourself it was because a casual whatever-Jungkook-is simply isn’t worth the drama. At night, you know you don’t engage with it because you don’t want to know. 

Ignorance is bliss, especially in this dangerously plastic world Jungkook exists in. 

Thankfully, you’re not alone in the matter. Jimin appears out of thin air, dropping down on the empty bed next to you. Namjoon – arguably Jimin’s better half and team captain – is nowhere to be found. Jimin lowers his shades and looks beyond you to the group of now rowdy players. 

“Gross,” he huffs. He slides his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and stretches out on the bed like a cat. Jimin doesn’t play, but he certainly has the body of an athlete, all fine lines and corded muscle. “Ignore them.”

“I was doing that already.” You lift your book as if to prove yourself.

He snorts. “You were thinking about it, be honest.” Your silence is answer enough and Jimin grins, lacing his hands behind his head as he tilts toward the sun. “Don’t let Jungkookie burn again.”

“I’m not,” you huff before snapping your book shut. Jimin is in the circle of player’s partners that you genuinely enjoy, but he has the keen ability to get under your skin and tell you all of the truths that you don’t want to be voiced out loud. Still, having him on your side has more benefits than just keeping the hyenas away from you. He’s also genuinely nice when he wants to be. “Jungkook, wake up.”

The man mumbles and turns his head away from you. You sigh heavily, squeezing his strong, very sweaty arm gently. “Come on, you’re gonna burn if you stay out here any longer.”

“Mm. Feels nice.”

“A sunburn won’t feel nice.”

“You can rub aloe all over me.”

“I will not.”

“Just five more minutes.”

“Jeon.” 

He drops his arm from his eyes, squinting in the bright light at you. His hair is damp with sweat and hangs in his eyes. He’s been growing it out longer and longer, especially since Seokjin keeps encouraging Jungkook by telling him he has the best flow on the team. 

“So you don’t want to rub aloe all over me?”

“You don’t need to get sunburned for me to touch you, Jungkook.”

“Bleh,” Jimin grunts. 

That makes Jungkook sit up, rolling his shoulders and twisting to pop his back. He sighs for a moment, closing his eyes as though willing himself to get up. When he opens them again, there’s a light in them and he smirks, looking you up and down.

“Wanna shower?”

Your mouth twitches and you roll your eyes to hide how much you want to shiver. “Come on,” you sigh, getting up, the fabric of the sunbed clinging to your sweaty skin. 

Eyes cling to you as you pull the sundress over your head and slide your sandals on. You don’t have to glance over at the mini-party a few sunbeds over to know you’re being watched. You suppose they’re watching Jungkook more than anything, but you’re in direct view behind him, grabbing your book. 

You know Jungkook notices them. He says nothing, though. Instead, he offers his hand out when you shove all your belongings in a bag, wanting to carry it. You grin and hand it over to him, smile growing as he shoulders it easily and offers his hand again, this time for you to take.

And you do take it. Perhaps the satisfaction that thrums through you as he leads you out of the pool yard and onto the deck that crosses the lake toward his apartment building is a little bit insidious. You don’t care. The momentary triumph that you shouldn’t be feeling at all is far too powerful and Jungkook’s hand is far too warm and safe in yours to care about why you feel good about the public display of affection.

It isn’t like he hasn’t done it before. Jungkook isn’t shy with others in front of you. It’s what makes the whole thing worse, somehow. Because Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he introduces you to people and friends and slides between your legs to lean on you when you’re sitting on a barstool. He holds your hand when you go on a lunch and shopping spree with your mom and he brings her coffee and flowers. 

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but you don’t care when the shower hits the warm skin and runs down your back as he presses your chest to the cold shower wall in front of you. The cool stone stings against your nipples, over-sensitive and sending a shiver down your spine as your eyes flutter shut. 

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he curses low under the sound of the shower as he pries your legs apart, tongue seeking the heat between them hungrily. Your mouth falls open as Jungkook’s tongue licks you soft-slow, lips sucking gently against your clit. 

“Shit,” you hiss. The difference in temperatures between the hot water and the cold wall makes the room spin. Steam makes it harder to breathe, your head pleasure-dizzy as Jungkook laughs and rolls his tongue lazily around your dripping cunt. “Fuck.”

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he eats you out slow and hungry. He doesn’t care that the water starts to lose its warmth as his mouth works you, smacking his lips loudly and moaning, vibrations going straight to your core where you drip on his soft tongue. 

His hands grip your ass, fingers digging into the flesh as he pries you apart further, tongue delving into your aching hole. He slurps at you, mouth loud and sticky over the sound of your panting and the water hitting the tile floor. His little hums of appreciation buzz through you, making the room spin.

“Fuck,” you whisper, pressing your cheek to the wet, cold stone as you try to ground yourself. You twist an arm backward, gripping Jungkook’s wet hair. He lets out a loud groan in appreciation, always pleased when you pull on his hair. “Don’t stop.”

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he does whatever you want him to. His tongue delves in, working you to orgasm until you’re shaking against the wall, knees knocking together and nearly collapsing on him. He catches you easily, standing and pressing you against the wall as he grabs your chin and brings your mouth toward him, his to devour.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material. 

But more than anything, you want him to be. 

[cherry-leclerc]

so long, london ☆ ln4

genre: angst, toxic relationship traits, fluff, humor, established relationship, one-sided, smut

word count: 7.3k

You've never been read so easily by someone until he entered your world. All is good, all is true love, but realistically, that all comes crumbling down. Leaving you with a series of doubts. The kind you ignore because why not?

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, m!receiving, f!receiving

inspired by this and this !

To be completely fair, the accent wasn’t all that familiar to you. It’s odd, then alluring, then it makes you curl a brow. Australian? British? Irish—no, that’s too far off, ridiculous, really. 

It’s the end of spring, which means it’s also the start of summer, which also means your job is in full force. Which is good if you’re still considering transferring to London to study abroad. You were, thank you very much, which is why you needed a shit load of money. 

Being a waitress isn’t all that bad; the view was breathtaking. Laguna Beach has always been and always will be. It’s impossible to take away its charm. 

The diner is small, yet crowded, so it’s hard to get through with a stack of breakfast plates atop one another. A piece of bacon slips past you as you let out a curse, mentally noting to clean it up on your way back. “An order of pancakes, french toast, two hashbrowns, bacon, four freshly squeezed orange juice—shit. I forgot, it was grapefruit, wasn’t it?”

Setting down the plates as carefully as you can with their assistance, you let out a sigh. “I’ll be right back—”

“It’s fine, mate. Orange juice is just as good.” His voice is soft and rough, all at once. 

You halt, fixing your apron, awkwardly. “No, it was my mistake, I’ll fix it—”

Mmm, delicious, his friends chime in as they take a sip from the fresh beverage. The blue eyed boy signals with his dark brows. “Told you. Don’t worry about it.”

“Cool,” you mumble. “Enjoy. Oh, and let me know if you need anything.”

They don’t, which is quite upsetting since you were slightly curious to find out if you were right. Smoking a joint, you hear a loud cough. The mysterious brunette waves. “Tough shift?”

“Of course not, I love it.”

He nods. “I’m sure you do, but I’m also sure that’s not the complete truth.” He sits. “You’re on your break, I presume, which means you're not on the clock, which means I’m no longer a customer, but rather just a stranger. A stranger whom you will most likely never see again, so…”

A puff expands through the blue sky and yellow sun. You squint. “I’m worn out. Down. Worn down? Both.”

“You’re good at hiding it.”

A chuckle. “But you were able to notice which obviously means I’m not much of an actress.”

He motions over to the cigarette. You hesitantly hand it over to him as he sucks sharply and releases. Bemused, you make a face. “I was because I go through the same thing, oftentimes. More like all the time.” Another hit. “I understand.”

“I’m not sure whether I should feel seen or scared…” Humor laces your soft voice as you quirk a brow. He laughs.

“Seen, definitely.” A beat. “I’m Lando. Foreign visitor.”

Shaking his hand, you ease up, smiling, gently. “Nice to meet you, Lando—foreign visitor.” A pause. “Resident.”

“Really, now?” He plays along, teasing. You can hear it. 

“Lucky, I know. Been here my entire life. Can’t complain.”

“I bet.”

“Yourself?”

Lando winces. “England. Bristol, specifically. Ever been?” Nope. A toothy grin. “Don’t—rains all day long, gloomy all year. It’s depressing, but…” He relaxes. “It’s home.”

Staring off into the waves, you cover your face from the strong breeze. Salt air splits your tongue in half as you wipe your mouth. “Your accent. It’s captivating. As soon as I heard it, I grew jealous.”

The Brit frowns. “Your accent is much better. Clean,” he adds and you let out a snort. Accent—what accent? He rolls his blue eyes. “That one. You might not consider it one, but it is. Very…pretty.” A rosy tint flourishes onto his cheeks. Summer heat, summer breeze, perhaps. 

Retreating the roll from his hand, you stomp on it, letting the light die. “Thank you, Lando from England. You made my day.”

-

That’s the end, really. Just a nice encounter that still doesn’t make much sense, but you’re glad it happened. Normally, after a tiring shift, you borrow Benny’s surfboard and rush towards the killer waves. The soothing water releases a lot of the built up tension that lies between your shoulder blades. 

Today isn’t much different. After getting yelled at for— “getting the fucking order wrong, bitch” —and— “my toddler just threw up, yes, oh, nevermind, had a…teensy accident” — you don’t second guess it. As soon as your skin connects to the warm temperature, you sigh in sweet relief. 

“I need to get out, I need to get out, I need to—”

“You just got here, though. Plus, the water feels nice, don’t you think?”

Startled, you sit up on your board, rocking back and forth. With what looks to be a painful tan, Lando smiles, sheepishly. “Hello…again.”

“Are…” You look around, but the ocean is practically empty. “A-are you stalking me?”

His smile drops. “W-wh—no! Of course not! I saw you from afar, and I just thought…” He grimaces. “I should go.” Except he can’t. Every chance he tries to tread away, the waves only push him back. It’s comedic. “One sec…crap. One more—shit. Okay, two, two sec—”

“Ah, forget it, stay. Land of the free, no?” Rubbing your nose, you pull his paddle closer. “What brought you out here?”

“Heard it was a good day to attempt to surf. Tell you what—it’s not.”

A giggle escapes, then lessens. You furrow your brows. “Hold on a minute; are you teaching yourself? As in, no instructor? Just you? Alone? Solo?”

“Yeah, what about it?” he grumbles. “I can do it.”

You’re wheezing at this point, stomach clenching. “That’s nearly impossible! I’m mean, sort of, sort of not.” When his eyes don’t switch from being offended to getting the joke, you quickly snap your lips shut. “Can I teach you? It’s not that hard.”

He gapes, curls grow more and more. They’re cute, the way they bounce when he shakes his head. “And if it’s so easy then why can’t I just do it myself?”

“How long have you been trying?”

He burns up. “That’s not the point.”

“No, that’s exactly my point. You need a mentor, and lucky for you, I’m a surf instructor on the weekends. Come on.”

The twenty-four year old is not sure he even wants to be here, suffering from an overdose of embarrassment. Every single attempt ends up with him splashing straight into the clear water. He groans for the millionth time, clutching into his board. “I think I’m done for the day.”

You don’t fight him on it. His bruised nose makes you feel bad, and his chipped lip makes you want to giggle, so yeah, that’s enough. He can taste the salt water as he smacks his lips, trying to get rid of it. You click your tongue. “That doesn’t really do anything. Not until you bathe and brush your teeth. Or rinse. Either or.” 

He invites you to the mansion he’s rented for him and his friends, declaring that there would be endless amounts of alcohol, but when you decline, he rubs his jaw and grimaces. “Yeah, I’m not in the mood, either. Craving tacos?”

So, that’s what you two do; converse over an amazing meal. You can already note his skin shedding, but for some reason, it’s endearing. You even spot a couple of moles. Chewing rapidly to try and forget about the spice, he pants. “London, eh?”

“England,” you correct. He deadpans you.

“That’s basically the same thing. It’s along the same lines. Just like Monaco and Paris.”

You shrug. “London—yes.”

Sniffling, he reaches for his can of Coke. Gasping left and right, he winks to the best of his ability. “You’re a smart girl…I think. And you’ll get in…I think.”

“Gee, thanks, I think.”

He laughs. “I hope you get in. I really do, Laguna Resident.” You roll your eyes. “You won’t miss all of this, though?” The warmth, the people, everything. A bittersweet feeling runs through your veins, momentarily, before you wave him off.

“Nothing is holding me back, forcing me to stay. I’ll be just fine.”

Finally, he calms down, occasionally sneezing. The way he excuses himself makes him look very polished. Lando licks his lips clean, drumming his long fingers against his lap. Later you would find out this would be his nervous tick. A teller. A good one, at most. 

“Call me? When you get there, I mean—if you want to, of course. No pressure.”

And while you may not have a reason to be a part of SoCal anymore, something else seemed to tug you to the other side of the world. “Might have to take your word for it.”

“Good.”

You grin, looking down onto your lap. Later he’d know this was your way of avoiding his stare. Butterflies, for the meantime. “Good.”

-

“No, no, no! You were supposed to—forget it, nevermind. Did you at least—” The stream flatlines and Lando is left speechless, headset drooping down, inch by inch. The way his eyes furiously twitch is enough for you to peck his cheek. 

“It’s late anyways. Come on, let's go to bed.”

There’s utter nonsense, and mumbo-jumbo that he spills as he reluctantly follows. If Max had done this, and if Max had done that. Pouting, you cradle his face, forcing him to look at you. “You’re telling me you wish you would still rather be playing than spend time with me?” You gently slap his face and he smiles, sheepishly. “I’m hurt.”

“No, no, you’re right. Of course I want to spend time with you.” When you peck his nose, he sighs. You can faintly smell the cheap beer, courtesy of said Max, so you let out a screech, creating a distance. 

“Never mind. I don’t want to spend time with you, you reek.” His smile drops and you pinch the tip of your nose. “Reek, I tell you. Go brush your teeth!”

The McLaren driver snarls, then makes his way over to your shared bathroom. “I remember when you used to be fun. Seems like a decade ago.”

“And make sure to floss!”

-

If you’re able to remember, you could openly admit that you did make that call. Actually, text. You got cold feet and sent a text last minute. You met up at the pub just around your dorm, the one that is only busy during the weekends, so is practically empty during the week. Hence, Wednesday night.

Wow. Your tan is gone, is the first thing he says when he sees you. It’s true. Being away from the California sun has completely changed you. A bit, but it did. Giggling, you accept his hug, finding warmth. London weather. “How was the move? I want to hear all about it.”

Oh, the move was as good as it could get. The airport lost two of my luggages, but it’s fine, I didn’t really need many dresses, because yes, you were right, it’s always gloomy. I miss Benny like a baby, but we always keep in touch—I’m actually going to visit him for his birthday. Which is in January? Yes…yes! January third. 

“What about you? Work?”

First of all, can’t really consider it work when it’s fucking fun. Second of all, it’s quite swell. I’ve got a new teammate, which sort of sucks, but he’s nice. The car is a bit wonky, but I’m sure that’ll change throughout the course of the year. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see. 

Conversations switched from having them on a steady stool in the pub, to having them in the comfort of his flat. Plus, you two were more open and honest with one another. 

Benny, yeah, it’s pancreatic cancer, and no, I’m not okay. 

The team is fucking shit. My arm still hurts from last week's crash, but I’ll be fine. Please, don’t you worry, love. 

Lando is an absolute angel. He pays for your tickets back home, along with Benny’s treatment. He declines the help at first, but as soon as he meets your smiley boyfriend, he accepts. I’ll pay you back. Once I’m better. Lando laughs with a muppet dive. Of course—of course, Ben.

You take care of him and his injuries. Follow doctors orders. Ice at least twice a day. Don’t forget to take your pain meds. No, for the love of God, they’re not candy, sweetheart.

It’s the best and the worst. And it’s all yours.

-

He’s very much obsessed with Mila as soon as she’s born. He congratulates his brother and his sister-in-law once, and off he goes, straight to the newborn. It makes you fall in love even more, which you didn’t know was possible, but here you were. 

“I say give it a year or two.”

“More like five. Come on, honey, be realistic.”

“I am! Can’t you tell he adores her?” Oliver scoffs. “He’s my brother. I would know.” His wife rolls her eyes, then moves on to snap a few pictures of Lando and Mila, then a thousand videos. 

“Crap. I want one,” he mentions on the drive back home. He gently rubs his thumb over your leg; you shudder. “You saw me, you were a witness, I was a good enough babysitter!”

“Babysitter? You’d be a dad, not a babysitter,” you retort, though your wobbly grin is a dead giveaway. A long finger pokes at your ribs as you laugh, scooting as far enough away as the McLaren allows you to get. “One day. Just not now.”

And he knows that’s true. He’s busy with racing, you’re busy with school; it's irresponsible. Your confirmation was sweet though—it was enough. The Brit hums, continuing the drive with a bright smile. 

“One day, then.”

-

Baby talk was a fun thing to dream about. To think, daydream. Marriage talk? Now that’s serious. 

It started on a Sunday morning; a non-race week. He’s finally back home and you're ecstatic. He was too, but that slowly goes out the window when you rush him to the room. I like where this is going, he starts when you drag him along. You bite back a smile, waiting for his noise. “What the shit?” he yelps, pulling on his curls. Spinning to face you, your boyfriend groans. “Where’s all my gaming—sweetheart,” he softened his voice, softened his eyes. “Sweetheart…”

“It’s gone! Bye-bye, adios!” You twirl around the empty room. “You don’t need it, Lando. It was rotting your brain.”

The color from his vibrant face fades, leaving him to let out a delirious laugh. “No, no, it wasn’t. Wh-why would you do that?” He doubles over. “I’m going to be sick.”

After a while of letting him drown in a puddle of self-pity, you snicker. Blue eyes look up at you; furrowed thick brows. What? “They’re in the guest room. I just needed us to paint the walls.” Releasing a scream, Lando plunges for you, picking you up and spinning you around until you flop against his arms. 

“Asshole!” you yell, smacking his arm. After a series of instructions, you both fall into a pattern. He focuses on the left side of the room and you focus on the left and the right. It just makes sense.

“Stick to your side,” he mumbles, pushing you away. You burn a laser to the back of his head. “I can feel you killing me—stop it.”

“Then quit drawing, you’re ruining it!” There’s a cat, a dog, a house, his racing car, you—you presume— and Mila for good measure, but he serves her no justice as she appears to be more of a blob. Going over it with a thick layer of paint, he curses to himself. As soon as he picks up the thin brush once again, you immediately set your foot down. “No, Lando, think before you commit.”

But he must not hear you—or ignores you—because suddenly he’s drawing something unrecognizable. You almost laugh when you guess it must be a donut, but when he draws the familiar rock, you come to a halt. “Stellar, no?”

“Hardly. Looks like more of a neck guard—next!”

But he pushes you away as soon as you reach over to cover it up. “I’m being serious. I’m mean, not now, but someday. Are you…” His voice drops, slowly, and he drums his fingers onto his thigh. Your lips turn upward. “...open to it? Getting married?”

“Well,” you start and his breath hitches, nervously tapping, awaiting for your response. Pressing your lips against his, you breathe out, and he groans. “I love you, Lando. I’m more than open to it.”

He sighs in relief, kissing you harder this time, with more emotion. “Good.” A beat. “Thank you.”

-

Slowly, but surely, you’re celebrating your three year anniversary—in Japan, a race week—but still. Yuki specifically gives you two a list of places to visit, so it makes everything a thousand percent easier. Fifth, he grunts, throwing his helmet onto the tiny bed in his motorhome. Screw it, I’m blowing my brains out.

“Hey now, quit talking like that.” A kiss. “I don’t care if you’re upset, I happen to be super duper proud.”

“It’s Super Trouper,” Oscar yells from the other side of the wall. “Don’t disrespect ABBA like that.

“Yeah,” Lando hums, pulling you in. “Don���t.”

“I’ll pull the trigger,” you warn. 

He gasps, theatrically. “You wouldn’t dare…”

“Try me.” 

“I already have—sweet.” His dirty implications makes you heat up and the Australian groans as he turns up his music. Lando snickers, changing quickly. “Happy Anniversary. It’s not everyday, you know?”

“I know,” you cheer, playing with your promise ring. You beam up at the bubbly Brit. “I just wish we were home. Celebrating in the comfort of our own place.”

He doesn’t mention it, but you considering London your home—despite not growing up there—makes him crush on you harder than ever before; it's sickening. Clapping loudly, he stands up, reaching for your hand. “Then let's go back home. What’s keeping us here?”

“Yuki,” you grunt, taking his open hand. “We’d be breaking his heart, Lan. We need to do these twenty-one things.”

“Ah, he’ll understand.” A pause. “If he doesn’t then we’ll just buy his next meal to make up for it.”

Cackling, you peck his face, over and over until he pushes you away in a jokeful manner. “This is why I love you, Lando Norris!”

And he’s content, admiring the way you pack happily. He’s never seen someone so giddy to spend fourteen hours on a plane just to curl into the comfort of their bed. He’s just never seen or met anyone like you. 

It was perfect.

-

As soon as he picks up his own digital camera, he’s in love. Part of you would be jealous, definitely, if it weren’t for him stopping to take a thousand pictures of you. One in the McLaren garage, next to his car. One where you balance yourself on a swing, eventually falling straight onto your face. One of your newly bruised nose, due to the fall. One where you’re sleeping, drooling like a—

“Delete that, I don’t even want to see it!”

Shaking his head full of curls, he runs away. “No! I happen to love it!”

“Lando!”

“You look adorable.”

“Fuck you, I’m leaving. Spend the night alone, loser.”

You don’t end up keeping your word. You get your revenge, eventually, when you pie him in his sleep. He nearly chokes, but it’s all in good fun, according to you. 

But neither of you would have it any other way. You just happen to be his muse. 

-

His greediness starts to show overnight, nearly. It catches you off guard, leaving you like a lost dog. The worst part is that it’s not directed directly at you, per se, but it felt like it. Most of the time, you’d deal with this by talking to him until he calms down, by making him a cup chamomile tea, because—

“It doesn’t help!” He paces the small room, throwing his gloves harshly against the wall. 

“Studies prove—”

“Studies my ass.” An angry huff. “I just need to be alone. For a while.”

And it also catches you off guard how you don’t fight him back on it. Instead, you’re glad, fleeing out the door, straight to God knows where. Strolling, you twist and turn the thin band. 

Where are you going?

“You said you wanted to be…” Except it’s not Lando. George quirks a dark brow. You gulp, forcing a smile. “I’m sorry. I thought you were…” A painful pause. “I thought you were Lando.”

“Must be the accent.” He laughs. “Don’t worry about it. Carmen actually made me chase you down. Said she wants your opinion with something about the wedding. You know her—perfectionist.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Throwing your hair over your shoulder, you beam brighter this time, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I have plenty of time.”

He’s rude when he finds you. Well, not really, but even your friends notice it. I’m telling him to wear a simple black and white suit. A bow or a tie, he can decide, but he’s insisting on wearing white and I’m like hello? You giggle, orbs moving to find George with a playful glare. 

“Why can you be the only one wearing white? It’s this some kind of rule or?”

“No, but it’s weird!” Carmen turns to face you, desperate eyes begging for backup. “Come on! Tell him it’s weird.”

Plump lips flicker upward. “I don’t know, George, it is a b—”

“Awful. You’re going to steal all the attention away from Caren and you’re going to look horrible. Just go with a traditional suit.”

The Mercedes driver doesn’t pay any attention to what was just said to him, but you and Carmen do, and that’s probably worse. You can tell she’s bothered by your boyfriend's unwanted opinion and for him going after her fiancé, so you briskly stand up. “Sweetheart, are you, um…ready to go?”

The Brit nods, fixing his bag that lays over his shoulder. “That’s why I’m here, no? Could have let me know you were leaving, too.” There’s tension in his voice; annoyance. “Also, I forgot your bag. I’ll wait for you here.”

His implication makes you queasy. You blink hastily. “Of course.” Turning to the older couple, you smile politely. “Um…text me, yeah? Let me know what you two decide on.”

Once you rush off, Carmen narrows her usually kind eyes, hard. George is quick, placing a steady hand onto her lap, and clears his throat. “You know, just because you didn’t place a podium for once doesn’t mean you get to act like a jerk. Seriously.”

Lando chooses to ignore his comment, bidding goodbye, and strolls over to find you, flustered. “Now I’m ready,” you confirm with a weak smile. The Brit laces his fingers through yours and brings it up to his mouth, pressing a warm kiss. 

“You know I love you, right?”

“I do. I do know.”

-

He’s trying to be more gentle, you can tell. With his words, with his actions. It reminds you why you chose him. He had apologized after a quiet night, settling with what he had done. How he had treated you and his friends. George is quick to accept his apology, and you were too.

“I didn’t mean it,” he groans quietly, chest pressed against yours as you ride him. “I s-shouldn’t have—fuck.” The way you clench around him tightly makes his head spin. A whine escapes your swollen lips as you nod, fast, then slow, then staggered. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you pant, finally opening your eyes to find him already looking up at you. He squeezes your hips harder, keeping you firm. “You were upset, that’s all. I get it.”

She gets it, he remembers thinking, considering himself lucky for having a girlfriend who understands. His highs. His lows. His wins. He loses. This—this is why you were the one. 

But once again, his lack of display is what reluctantly pushes you away.

Then back in.

-

It’s been three months of him not even picking up his camera. Maybe he’s just too lazy to develop his pictures, so you do it for him. There’s really no excuse. That’s what you say with light humor when you push it towards his chest, but he only cocks his head to the side. “I never asked for you to do that.”

Your stomach churns. You lick your chapped lips. “You don’t need to. I just…did it. Thought it might help get you out of your slump.”

This pushes something in him as he narrows his brows like a set of sharp knives. “Slump?” A scoff. “What? Because I haven’t been able to get a win?”

“What?” You’re dazed. “No.” You’re confused. “No, why would you say that?” 

“I don’t know—why would you?”

“I mean it because you’ve been down, that’s it. Not because…” When his eyes don’t change, and your heart continues to pound, you flip him a smile. “You’re right. My choice of words weren’t the best. I’m sorry.”

The blue eyed boy clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth once, then sets the camera to his side. “Whatever, it’s fine, I guess.” And suddenly he’s making his way to his gaming room, leaving you with wide eyes and a bruised heart. 

“Wait!” Carefully, you pick up the small camera, extending it out towards him. “Wh-what do you want me to do? Should I pack it into your suitcase? Or maybe I could—”

“Pack it, yes, but into a box and put it in the attic.” He continues his march. “I lost interest a long time ago, either way.”

You’re not dazed. You’re not confused. 

You’re broken hearted.

-

You would think that you would have learned by now. He loves you, damn it. He’s just having a tough time proving it, but it’s fine, stuff like this happens all the time.

“Hello, darling,” Carmen greets, pulling you away from your trance. The camera  pans over to Lance, Carlos, and Lando. She gingerly takes the spot next to you. “Feeling alright? Lost a bit of weight and color.” Her concern can’t be hidden behind even the tallest mountain. 

Been working out. London is gloomy all day long. Haven’t gotten proper Vitamin D. Looking down onto your lap, you twirl your fingers. Over and under, over and under, over and un—

Her hands feel warm against yours and you can’t help but flinch, instinctively needing to pull away, but she holds on tighter. Not even your boyfriend's hands have felt as warm as hers; not in a very long time. “You can talk to me. Anytime.” Eyes remain downward, watering, so, like most nights before bed, you blink them away. Hard, fast, and cruel. 

“Have you chosen the song you want to be for your guys’ first dance?”

She remains still for a second, focuses directly into your soul and you blink faster before she has a chance to decode you. She always did. “We have. My Funny Valentine. Hear this, Daniel wants to sing it. With a band and the whole thing. Nightmare.”

And you’re glad for having her stories to distract you from your feelings, because silly is what they are. Childish. False. It’s only until the end of the race where you two realize you hadn’t been paying attention. As soon as George walks in through those doors, he jumps up and down. “Hey. Top five!”

“That’s my boy!”

You feel like a creep watching them kiss with sweet emotion you can’t help but miss and crave. Your eyes flicker over to the flat screen T.V. and you’re shooting up from your seat. “Shit! I have to go!” 

He’s in the middle of a speech of some sort when you rush in gasping for air. Sheepishly, you wave, then scoot closer to Zak who gives you a quick side hug. Everyone claps and then he’s making his way to—

Not you. 

First it’s Zak, then he squeezes by. Then it’s his entire team. Then it’s Oscar. Then it’s Carlos, which is the last straw because he’s not even supposed to be here. “Mind if I squeeze in?” you squeak. The Spaniard shakes his head.

“Be my guest. I should leave anyway.” “Are you sure?” Lando quips. “Why don’t you stay?”

Brown pity eyes dance over to where you look down, then settle with a wobbly smile. “I, um…I actually have a few emails to respond to. Stay, Carlos.” It’s pathetic and embarrassing how he’s the only one who convinces you to stick around. Not even your own boyfriend. Though his hand remains by your side, it feels all for show, which it is because as soon as a few fans take a couple of pictures of you two, he finally retreats his arm.

Once the Ferrari driver finally jogs away, Lando turns to face you. “Where were you?”

“I was watching the race.” Your heart beats faster.

“Liar. Your lips just did the thing.” A halt. “What thing?”

“There! There it is again! You didn’t watch it, did you?”

Taking his palms into your own, you kiss them, feverishly. “I was, but then Carmen came over, and we started to talk, and then one thing led to another and…” Blue eyes stare down, empty. You grimace. “I’m so sorry, Lando. You got second place and I wasn’t there to celebrate. I’m so sorry.”

And perhaps he feels he already made you suffer enough with his ignorance, or maybe he was still high off his accomplishment, but it surprises you when he leans down to peck your forehead. “Just don’t let it happen again, yeah?”

You let out a breath of relief. “Pinky swear.”

He laughs, ruffling your hair. “Ah, see, I don’t believe in pinky promises.”

“Take my word for it then.”

He winks. “Good enough.”

-

I can’t believe we haven’t had a sunny day in weeks! Flipping over to face him, you pout. Weeks! That’s bonkers.

The Brit hums against his blankets, against you. It’s officially been a year since you two have been dating and it honestly felt surreal. Especially in moments like these. The kind where he was just yours. 

I tried to warn you.

You groan, pressing your cheek against his firm chest. His heartbeat is slow and steady, indicating he’s half asleep, indicating you were too awake. Indicating you should probably go to sleep, too. 

Guess I’ll just have to learn to live with it. 

Guess so.

You know…I sort of love it.

You say so because you haven’t lived here your whole life.

I could easily, you want to confess. If it’s with you, then yes, I can. But it’s too soon and you don’t want to scare him off. Not when things were a dream. Cloudy, sunny, rainy, sunshine—I don’t care. I have a good enough reason to stay. 

He vibrates due to his chuckle and you giggle due to his chuckle. Look at you being all cute.

Not trying to be cute, just speaking my truth. 

In one motion, he flips over you, hovering. You love it? Like truly? 

I love it. I truly love it.

Make me believe it.

Are my words not enough?

He grins, eyes crinkling. I’m more of a pinky promise type of guy.

You lift your small finger and he’s fast to wrap his own around it. Pinky swear. I love you and London.

And it was true. It was true for a while.

-

It all came crashing down on you, really. It was alarming, yet you had expected it. It was lonely, but survivable. It came in phases. You first noticed the doubt a bit after your third year anniversary, but no, he loves me. I know he does. 

But you were good at pushing it all away; far, far, and further. Until you couldn't think about it anymore, even if you tried. His acts were a suck punch, though. Everytime you started to heal and stand up, he only sent a new one. A stronger one. But, hey, no—he loves me. He only says it every night.

Like last Monday night. When he fucked you in his hotel room.

Or last Thursday. When he went down on you under the table.

Or Friday. When you sucked his cock in the shower.

All right before bed.

God, I fucking love you so much. Hot cum shoots down your throat and he groans like a madman. Love you so, so much. You can’t even begin to imagine. 

So, when your friends ask and check up on you, that's what you say. Yes, he reminds me everyday. He means it. Don’t worry, we’re doing better than ever.

The second comes in like a slap to the face. He had just done what you consider a low blow, but no—he’ll make up for it. He always does.

“Bullshit.” You blink your hot tears away. Carmen never—ever—curses. She’s too classy for any of that, so it’s almost funny to hear it now. But it’s not, not really. She sighs, rubbing her temples. You and your problems were stressing her out, God, how could you be so selfish?

“Forget I said anything. I’m being a fucking crybaby—”

“No. You’re not.” It seems like she’s choosing her choice of words, delicately. “You have every right to be upset. Every. Single. Right.”

And for the first time in a while, you feel completely seen. Heard. Understood. And that was a lot, but it must have been what you needed, because suddenly, you were spilling the ugly truth. The reason why you didn’t attend the last race. Or the one before that one. 

The reason why she and George found you clutching onto your chest that night in Vegas. Forgot my keys, you giggled. You two have fun! Don’t worry about me. 

Carmen is older, wiser, and so fucking mature. You love it. But you hate it because now that you sit here with more of an open mind and less defense, you blink like a lost kid at the grocery store. “You love him.”

A whimper. “I adore him.”

“A lot?”

“Infinitely.”

“But?”

Another whimper, louder this time, more wet. “He makes me sad sometimes. Is that normal?” “It is—” And it’s the delusion that always makes you stay. You’re quick to swallow it down, eager and fast. It’s all you need to hear. Carmen shakes her head. “But not to this extent. You get sad over them forgetting your favorite drink order, or when they forget to pack your heels.” An unwanted pause. The kind that gives you the room to overthink. “Not because they locked you out. Or because they forgot your anniversary.”

And she won’t admit—not when you were already so broken—but Lando hadn’t forgotten. 

She likes wine, fuck, she’s obsessed with that sparkly shit. Wine testing! We could go wine tasting and I could do it there. He twidles with the ring box. Is that good?

George raises a playful brow before releasing a laugh. It sounds great. As long as you have a nice place to take Instagram pictures, then you’re set to go. Chicks love that. Isn’t that right, love?

But she pinches her lips, forcing a smile to the younger Brit. Lando lets out a shaky breath. It’s about to be our four year anniversary—it’ll be perfect. I’ll make sure.

So, yes, she knows he loves you. But that still doesn’t make the way he treats you right. What kind of love was that? Sobbing loudly, you push your hair back. “But you don’t get it! When he’s good…” Her eyes soften and yours grows more glassy. “...he’s so good.”

“Is it worth the pain, though?”

-

The third one is the breaking point you had been avoiding for so long. The day started out gray, either way, and not just because of the dark London weather. Dragging your feet to the end of the bed, you tremble. You got the call at four a.m. and those are never good, so why were you shocked to hear from Benny’s son?

“Oh, baby…” He pulls you atop his lap, kissing your temple. “I know how much he meant to you.”

“I still owe him a surfboard. The expensive kind, too.” He quirks a confused brow, but you continue staring off into space. “They stole the last one. The one he always lent to me. His mom had gifted it to him.”

“When did this happen?” he questions, trying to keep you talking because that sounds like a good idea. To get your mind off things. 

You hum. “Last January; his birthday weekend.”

“Birthday weekend? I don’t recall—” “You weren’t there.” He doesn’t have to remember to know that’s true. It's become a habit of his nowadays and now he’s feeling guilty. Another hum, this time sadder than the prior. “He was going to teach you how to grill steak, just the way I like it.”

His stomach churns. “And how do you like it?” A beat. “I don’t remember. Ask Benny.” Then you’re crying like a newborn.Worse, actually. But he holds you through it all. So maybe this was do-able. He was nice, after all. You could stick with him forever and you’d be grateful. After what seems like a decade, you finally calm down, though your nose keeps runny. “The funeral is later this week. Are we going?” You were, with no fucking doubt, but you just wanted him to say it. There— on the tip of his tongue. You can spot it and he could taste it.

“Sweetheart…you know I have a race.” You didn’t expect him to drop everything and venture off with you, but this cut deep. Still, you understood. Plus, the proposal was ditched the moment you got the eerie call. So, yes, everything was unbalanced, but it wasn’t your guys’ fault. It was just a twist of fate. Nothing you couldn’t handle; you’ve dealt with worse.

“Right. I can go by myself.” He feels bad—you know he does—but anything, really? “You can write a letter, maybe? Just a couple of words for his family. I know it’ll mean a lot.”

He chuckles. And you should have known at that very moment because it wasn’t one you’ve heard before. “Why would I? I barely even knew the guy.”

“Excuse me?” 

The Brit continues tracing shapes onto your thigh. “I’m just saying! It sounds a bit weird coming from someone who spoke to him once. Twice at best.”

And you’re no longer dazed, no longer confused, no longer heartbroken. 

You’re just angry.

Pushing yourself off him, you glare coldly. “Barely even knew…the guy? We Skyped with him over dinner! You paid his bills! You fucking attended his sons wedding! How could you be so…fucked.”

“Sure… He was a sweet lad, but do you really think they want to hear from me?”

“Maybe not, maybe they don’t give a flying fuck, but I do. Remind me why I loved you!”

He’s up now. His heart quickens, pierces through his skin. “Loved?”

You sigh, clutching your chest. “Love. I said love.”

A huff. “No, you definitely spoke in past tense—do you not love me anymore?”

“Lando…” “No. Just be upfront with me, I can handle it. Tell me now so I don’t waste my time any longer.”

Every uncertainty you ever had, every word of advice Carmen has given you comes crashing down. She was right. He’s keeping you around for good fun. For his benefit. “Your time? What about mine? You’re the one who’s been blocking me out these past couple months!” “That’s not true—”

“Fuck, you’re right—this past year. God Lando! Haven’t you noticed how good I am at apologizing now? My zombie appearance? You left me out in the hallway! All because of what? Because I didn’t tell you I was going out with the girls?” A sour laugh. “Wake up—it’s 2024. Since when are you a shitty masochist?”

His jaw clenched. “I was worried about you! It was fucking Vegas, what was I supposed to do? And for the love of God, this again. I. Didn’t. Hear. You. Knock.”

A peach seed forms onto your chin. Skin is flushed and tears stream down your face. But he’s fine. He’s tall and firm Hard headed. Without an ounce of regret. And you want to do it. You want to make him feel what you’ve felt.

“I got my degree…”

“Woo-fucking-hoo, we’re not talking about that right now.”

“I lived a few good years, filled with pure happiness.”

He pauses. 

“But I see it now. Past all the gray clouds, I see it.” He can feel it coming and he’s desperate for you not to say it aloud, but you shrug it, face downward. “Nothing is holding me back to stay.”

His tone washes away like the Laguna waves as he gets closer to you, cradling your face. “Yes. Yes you do. You have me…”

“Lando, quit lying—I haven’t for a while now. I was just a trophy you didn’t want. One you got bored of.”

“That’s not—” “True?” A beat. “It is. And you know what also is? I don’t love you anymore.” The light in his eyes gave out, pitch black. He feels as if he’s going into cardiac arrest and you…you look at ease. Peaceful. Free. With a soft smile, you push his hands down. “I don’t think you love me anymore, either.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads. “Please, don’t say that. Of course I love you.” Rushing over to his nightstand, he pulls out a box you only ever dreamt of. “You want proof—here! Take it! It’s yours anyways.”

“Where was this a year ago?” Opening the velvet box, you’re left with an inaudible gasp because of course it was gorgeous. And he feels a gist of hope when you place it onto your ring finger, but he slowly pales when it doesn’t fit.

“No. No. That’s your size. I know it is.” He takes it from you, analyzing it in an accusing manner. “I swear it was, I pinky…” The heater kicks on. “I swear.”

“It’s alright. This is the right ring…just not for me.” It shouldn’t affect you to see his cheeks grow splotchy, to hear his voice tremble like a kid who just skinned his knee against the pavement. But he was once your other half, so it does. 

“I don’t want you to go…”

“I don’t either. I loved being here.”

“Then stay.” You purse your lips, then scrunch your nose. “It doesn’t love me, though. And I can’t go unwanted.”

If we start saving enough money then we could buy the house—you know—the one close enough to drive to your parents? Sweet, no?

Won’t they hear us fuck? 

Ew, gross. No. I’d tape your mouth before I let that happen. You pinch his ear. This is your home.

And SoCal is yours, so why don’t we move there?

Because I don’t want to. I want to be with you and the people you love, in the place you love. Because I love you and I love the people you love, and I love London. 

You’re quite literally perfect. I hope you know.

You make it clear everyday. 

And I won’t ever stop. Because you deserve to know.

“This place is cold, the way you said it was. This place is gloomy, the way you said it was. But this place isn’t a home to me anymore…the way I once thought it was.”

Should he have been more careful—more caring—then he wouldn’t be here. This wouldn’t be happening, but it is. And it’s no one’s fault but his.

Sniffing, you rub your swollen eyes. “I’m going to pack my things and go to Benny’s funeral.” It's a declaration. He nods, attentively. “And I’m not coming back. Is that okay?”

No. It wasn’t okay. You’re tearing him in half, you’re stabbing his heart over and over again. You’re telling the truth and putting yourself first. Something he was awful at doing. What brought you two to this very moment in time.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I treated you the way I did.” I love you. “But if that’s your decision, then go on. Do what you need to do.” I love you. 

“Good.” I love you. But I can’t say it aloud if not I’d stay forever. 

You smile and he smiles back.

“Good.”

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[dinogoofymutated]

SFW!Colossus/Fem!Reader

I've been infected with another fictional man the way in which I pumped this out was ridiculous. I happened to re watch the scene in the movies where the government breaks into the mansion and seeing Piotr act like a big brother/dad to all the kids really got to me. That and the Deadpool movies (even though I thinks he's a little stuffy in those.) I even rewatched the episode he had in the animated series so that I knew I would get his character right and DAMN ugh god I juts have a thing for big men with soft hearts. especially the ones who are family oriented.

ALSO HOLY SHIT TY FOR 600 FOLLOWERS???? when did yall get here???? I swear I was at like 48 two weeks ago lmao time flies when you're thirsty for the X men I guess!! TWs: None? No pronouns mentioned but I went ahead and labeled it as fem because it's basically about kids forcefully adopting you as their mom. Kids having night terrors mentioned.

Can you imagine sort of just being adopted by the students at the mansion as mutant mom?? At that point you don't really get a choice. Like you start out being very patient with these kids and making sure to keep bandaids, burn cream, pain meds and all of that because one way or another something is gonna happen- and you want to be prepared.

And then you start making breakfast. I feel like normally they probably have a schedule for who has breakfast duty but if you wake up and can't go back to sleep and you take over no one really cares. More sleep for them!!

And then a few times turns into every morning. And you're setting out ketchup for one kids eggs and syrup for another ones hashbrowns- and making sure not to cook with nuts and make sure there's at least three different things on the table that are Kosher or gluten free. Keeping an eye on everyone as they come to get food and noting who did and did not make it to breakfast this morning so that you can make sure they eat later-

And one day you're waking up at 5am and getting ready for the day so you can go make breakfast like always, and you look in the mirror at some point and just realise, holy fuck, when did you become a parent?

It's such a regular thing for kids to call you mom at that point, a knowing how so many of them have come from rough backgrounds, it makes you really happy to know they find comfort in you and will come find you if they need comforting.

And then there's Piotr. Big, strong, Piotr. Piotr who wakes up before dawn and does chores around the mansion in the early morning air. You can take the man out of the farm, but you can't take the farm out of the man. He does the lawn care, chops wood, takes care of whatever animals that might need feeding, replaces the feed in the bird feeder.

Piotr who makes sure to stop by the kitchen to share a small cup of coffee with you before he does chores. Piotr who hangs Hummingbird feeders right outside the kitchen windows because you mentioned you missed the ones your grandmother used to hang. Just Piotr, being strong and masculine and an absolute sweetheart.

He reminds me of that one quote that heard somewhere about masculinity being about protecting femininity, not rejecting it??? That one!!!

Kids call him dad all the time, and even though yall aren't even together, you become the parents of the school. Scott and Jean?? Love them, but they don't have that same kind of parent energy.

It's such a regular thing for kids to find the two of you interacting one way or another. Someone woke up way too early and enters the kitchen to find yall during your coffee, and there's a sweet moment with yall telling them to go back to bed, or offering to make them a quick breakfast. Maybe if they're really young Piotr will offer to tuck them in. He might be really blunt when telling them there are no monsters, but will be a little more gentle when you set a hand on his arm and give him a bit of a look.

The kiddo asks for both of you to tuck them in and you obviously aren't going to refuse them. Which leads to everyone wanting both of you to tuck them in and soon enough you two are doing curfew checks instead of the professor.

It's becomes so regular for the students to treat you two as their parents, and no one actually believes it when they find out that no, you're not a couple. So, they do what kids do and try to get you two together.

First it starts with making sure you two are sat together during everything they can get away with. Then it moves on to things like mistletoe (out of season, Piotr mistook it as an accidental bloom made by one of the agrokinesis kids and took it down) and then more mischievous plans like telling one of you that the other needed help with one thing or another, knowing that either one of you would help out at the drop of a hat. Sureee, they were lying, but you two didn't know that. (most of the time)

The kids just want to see their parents happy and in love. There's nothing wrong with that, is there? It's not like You and Piotr hadn't been helplessly pining for the other the entire time anyway.

You sigh deeply once you finally sneak out of the dorm room, Piotr right behind you. The tall man takes extra care to shut the door very gently, making sure it clicks in place just as silently.

"I thought we were never going to get her to sleep." You whisper to him. One of the youngest girls attending the school had a rather difficult time with night terrors, and would struggle to fall asleep without being tucked in. When you and Piotr were doing curfew checks tonight, she was the only kiddo still awake, and she had practically begged both of you to stay with her untill she finally did fall asleep. It couldn't be just one of you, It had to be both. No matter how many rooms you both had to check tonight, you would never have left her shaken up in such a state. You just hadn't expected it to take an hour.

"Illyana had similar dreams as a little one. It takes time for children to overcome it." Piotr whispers back as you begin to walk down the hallway to check the rest of the rooms. Even when he whispers, his voice is strong and hard to keep quiet. You know there's truth to what he says, and yet you can't help but wish you could do something more to help her with her nightmares. You rub some warmth into your arms anxiously as you think about it, surprised when you feel the warm weight of Piotr's hand settle in between your shoulder blades.

"You're worrying again." He states, frowning slightly when you look up at him. You send him a resigned smile, before it quickly falls as you look away.

"I can't help it. I worry about all of them, her especially. They just... deserve so much more than their lot in life." You say. Piotr hums in response, his thumb brushing idly against your back.

"Their life like us, you mean? Mutants?" His question makes you wince.

"No. Yes? I don't know. I just... I just wish that we could give them more than... this." You say, waving your hands to motion about the mansion. "The school might very well be the only safe space they have their entire life. The world hasn't been kind to them, and I'm not sure it ever will be." Your words begin to quiet down as you finish the sentence, lowing to a whisper that only he can hear. You'd never, ever want any of these kids hear a word of what you're saying. Knowing that hope is really all they have at their age, and you of all people refuse to be the one to destroy that beautiful childlike optimism.

"That is what we are working for as the X-men, yes? To change that?" Piotr asks you point blank, his hand moving up towards the back of your neck in a soothing manner that still gives you goosebumps, feeling the comforting heat of his hand even stronger than before.

"Yeah, but..."

"Then we are doing all we can." He finishes, a smile on his face that's so determined and confident that it very nearly changes your mind completely. Nonetheless, it's a reassuring smile that makes your chest feel warm and fuzzy. You smile back at him finally, and you swear you see fondness in his eyes.

It doesn't take long before the two of you are finally at your door. You give Piotr a short and sweet goodnight as you begin to step inside, but he stops you before you go, gently catching hold of your arm. For the first time, you think you've seen him debate on his words. His mouth opens, but he doesn't speak at first, and you swear you see a blush rising to his cheeks as he does so.

"You'd make a good mother." He says eventually, and it makes you smile widely.

"You'd make a good dad." You tell him. There's silence between you as he brushes a stray lock of hair away from your face in a fond and caring manner, and you swear you could trick yourself into believing that you and Piotr were already in domestic bliss if this moment goes on for any longer. The tall man leans in, and you find your mind short circuiting as he presses a kiss to your forehead. The simple action somehow leaving you beyond flustered.

"Sleep well, Любовь моя. I will see you in the morning." Piotr tells you, before walking off at his regular stiff pace. You stand in your doorway for a minute, watching him leave with a bit of a confused smile on your face. Out of all the Russian nicknames he's called you in the past, you had never heard him say that one before. You wonder if you should pick up a book on the language as you close your door and finally crawl into bed, although part of you is content to leave it be. Colossus had always been blunt, and you're sure he'd tell you eventually. You fall asleep just as you always do, excited to see him when you wake up in the morning.

[intoxicated-chan]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 ║ ❝𝐉𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐬 𝐈𝐬 𝐌𝐲 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐞❞

(A/n) ➳ First chapter!! I straight up need lessons on how people flirt because I fought and I still think the flirting is VERY TERRIBLE so be warned. Enjoy!!

Word Count ➳ 2.4k

Content Warnings ➳ Talks of having children/marriage, pregnancy, alcohol use (Not drunk), TERRIBLE FLIRTING, public bathroom sex, p-in-v, unprotected sex (WRAP IT), pet names (darlin’) swearing, nearly getting caught, mentions of violence…

JUDAS MASTERLIST

THE CLOCK HAD STRUCK ELEVEN IN THE MORNING.

Your hands come under the hot water for a second before yanking them back in pain, a wince had left your lips and sighed. You turned the handle on the sink to the right, waiting a couple of seconds before you put your hand under the water again.

This time, the water became warm. You picked up the soapy and water logged sponge to continue cleaning the white plates that were covered in syrup from this morning, just two hours ago.

Shane was the first to come to your apartment, like usual. He helped you with setting up the table, cooking the sausages and eggs while you handled the pancakes and hashbrowns.

Rick, Lori, and Carl came next. Carl ran past you before you could even acknowledge it was them, he happily shouted for the pancakes and was a little disappointed. But as soon as he was picked up by Shane and put on his shoulders, his laughter filled your small apartment.

“The hashbrowns just need a couple more minutes.”

You remembered saying, letting them in and helping Lori as she was obviously pregnant. Around thirty four weeks.

“Just a couple more weeks.” She let out a groan as she was able to take off her shoes. “Then we’ll have this little sucker out of me.”

Lori and Rick agreed to keep the gender a secret, not even they know since they had already agreed on names as well.

Isabella for a girl and Liam for a boy.

You took her sweater and hung it on the coat rack. Rick had begun to pour juice into the glass cups, making sure Carl didn’t knock them over when he threw himself at the chair.

“Carefully buddy.”

“Pancakes!”

“Pancakes are comin’ in!” You hurriedly walked in with the hot pan in one hand and a stack of pancakes in the other, Shane was right behind you with the plates of scrambled eggs and cooked sausages.

That was just two hours ago.

Now, Carl was by your side, standing on a step stood with a damp rag in hand. He took each plate that you handed to him, wiping them down and carefully putting them in the dish rack.

Shane walked back to the table where Rick and Lori were still sitting, he watched as Lori tried to stifle her giggle, covering her mouth as her giggling became louder as Shane came into her view.

Shane, gathering the last few cups, asked with a grin. “What are you two scheming now?”

“Oh you know, the pregnancy, the hospital plan, and us-” Lori leaned in closer, whispering. “-Deciding when you’re going to ask (Y/n) out?”

He took a glance back at you, still focused on the dishes. “One day Lori. One day.”

“It’s been five years, I’m tired of your whinin’.” Rick retorted, leaning back in the chair and throwing an arm back.

“Where are the cups Shane?” You called out to him. “And what are y’all whisperin’ about?”

Shane went to tell Lori to hush but she spoke first, speaking over him. “That you guys make the perfect couple!” She slowly stood from her chair and made her way over to you. “A perfect marriage with kids running around, y’know?” Lori teased you.

You exchanged a quick looked with Carl who just looked back at you with curiosity. He couldn’t feel your discomfort.

“Well… I-I don’t know.” You hesitated, trying to avoid the question and find the right words.

“They do seem perfect for each other.” Rick commented.

“Can’t you imagine it?” Lori added. “A cozy home, kids playin’ in the yard with our kids. Sounds like a dream.”

You forced a smile when everyone turned to you, hiding your uncertainty. Sure, Shane was attractive, anyone would die to be with a man like him.

But settling down, marriage and having kids just didn’t sit right with you. You preferred excitement in your life, just like your high school life. Not knowing what was going to happen next, the unpredictability in your life made it even better.

Shane noticed your silence, he placed the cups in the sink and nudged you. “You alright?” He murmured to you, ignoring Rick and Lori’s conversation.

You took a couple of seconds before nodding. “Yeah, yeah, just thinkin’ about high school.”

“Feelin’ nostalgic?”

“I am.”

But Shane could sense the discomfort in your voice, something he didn’t want, you being uncomfortable around him.

“Don’t listen to ‘em. They’re jus’ jokin’.” He flashed a smile.

You poured soap on the sponge and gave it a squeeze, starting on the outside of the glass before going inside of the cup.

“Maybe Lori and Rick are right. You and me, might be somethin’ special.” He said, a playful tone clear in his voice.

You kept the same smile on as before. “You know how they are. Tryin’ to play matchmaker.”

“They could be onto somethin’. We’d make pretty good parents.”

“Look Shane, I’m not really sure about all that. Can’t we talk about it some other time?”

He adjusted his stance, now crossing his arms. “Alright, alright.”

“Did he really say that?” Andrea questioned you, wide eyed as she handed you a glass of wine that Amy poured you.

“I still can’t get it out of my head.”

“What did you say?”

You brought the wine to your lips, giving it a swirl before taking a sip of it. “I said if we can talk about it some other time.”

Amy clicked her tongue a couple of times. “Should’ve made it clear from the start.”

The three of you sat on your couch, a movie played in the background, something about an assassin in retirement but it was long forgotten when Amy noticed you couldn’t focus on the movie.

You bit your lip, setting your glass down next to you. “I know, I know. But it felt like I couldn’t.”

Andrea stood up abruptly, stopping Amy from replying. “You can’t be drinkin’ all night. We’re goin’ out.” She stated proudly, hands on her hips as a wide smile spread across her lips. “Get dressed (Y/n), we’re hittin’ Atlanta!”

You opened your mouth but Andrea put her hand in your face. “No arguments.” She marched into your room, with you and Amy following, Andrea was rummaging through your clothes. “Even if it’s just for a couple of hours, you need this.”

Amy joined in with Andrea, looking through your drawers. “A night of fun and-” Pulling out a pair of matching bra and underwear. “Pleasure~”

Once you were all dressed up, Andrea drove you all to the club that Amy once went to, commenting on the amount of men who rode motorcycles.

And she was right, motorcycle upon motorcycle lined up in the front of the club. You all excited the car in laughter and nervousness.

“How’s my makeup?” Amy asked, looking at herself in the car’s mirror. “Shit, I think my eyeliner is uneven.”

Andrea pulled her by her arm, “Who cares? We’re here to have fun!”

You all entered the club with ease, you all were immediately crowded. After all it was a saturday night, drinks were flowing and music blasted loudly that you could barely hear yourself.

But you all remained together as you drank, except Andrea as she was the driver. But that didn’t stop her from having fun with you.

She practically forced you onto the dance floor after a couple of drinks as she thought it would help and it surely did.

Blinded by the flash on Amy’s phone, she recorded you all dancing and screaming your lungs out on the song that played.

You definitely needed to listen to the sisters more cause this was a night you needed, it wasn’t like morning brunch with the four of them.

You felt that familiar excitement in your veins, and your body dancing on its own… You didn’t consume many drinks, maybe because you wanted to remember this night, not by videos and photos, but by your own memory.

You laughed as Andrea helped you move to the calmer side of the club as she recognized your tiredness.

“Never knew you could pull those moves!” She shouted over the music, leaning close to you.

“Neither did I!” You threw your head back, snickering. “Can you order me some water?!”

“What?!”

“Water!”

“Okay!” She turned her back to you and faced the bartender.

You panted, trying to catch your breath. You felt your phone vibrating and pulled it out, seeing a call from Shane.

It was like the music went silent, everything around you froze as you stared at his name… You watched it ring, his name on big on the screen.

You looked up from your phone to call for Amy or Andrea but you spotted someone else.

A man with a black leather jacket. ‘JUDAS’ was printed on his back in white lettering with white dots circling the name and the skull and bones.

He sat alone, a drink in his gloved hand. Black sunglasses rested next to his arm and a black and white bandana was wrapped around his neck.

“Water!” Andrea’s booming voice knocked you out of your stare, taking the water, Andrea noticed you’re staring and immediately found who you were looking at.

“Think he’s in a band?” Amy laid her head on your shoulder.

“No way, looks too gloomy to be in a band.” Andrea retorted. “Nice clothes though.”

You dismissed both of them. “Leave him alone.”

“Alone? Girl, he looks like your type! Go for it!” Amy scoffed and pushed you.

You shoved your phone back into your purse and walked towards him, glass of water in hand. If the drinks gave you confidence to dance, surely it will help now.

You took the empty seat across from his and crossed your legs, one over the other. “Cool jacket.” You complimented. “Where’d you get it from?”

He eyed you for a moment before he looked away. “Ain’t yer business.”

That caught you off your guard… “Must be a tale worth tellin’ or you just like scarin’ people.”

“A very long and winded tale. And scarin’ folks… There’s more than one way to scare somebody than usin’ a jacket.”

“I ain’t easily scared. Makes it more fun.”

“What’s so fun ‘bout some jacket?”

You shrugged. “Maybe it’s the challenge of findin’ out who you are.”

He clicked his tongue, setting down his drink. “Ain’t gonna be easy darlin’.”

You leaned in closer. “Good thing I like challenges.”

(May I have some tips on flirting, please. I’m very desperate…)

“Fuck!”

You and Daryl didn’t waste time when he brought you to the bathroom of the club. He hiked up your dress and ripped your underwear off you, not without commenting on the choice first.

You threw your head back, your legs tightened around Daryl’s waist.

He had you pushed up against the wall, his face shoved into the crook of your neck, leaving wet kisses.

He desperately thrusted into you, breathing heavily. He fucked you up against the bathroom stall.

Both of his hands held your ass, leaving you to cling onto him.

You were left stuttering over your words. “Like that.” You said, over and over again. “Just like that! God, just like that!”

For a second, your breathing stopped and you froze, your eyes immediately shut as you came around his cock.

Yet you didn’t complain when he still continued fucking you. You felt a smile form as he fucked you past your orgasm.

“Ya gotta keep quiet.” Daryl panted in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your back. The music was still loud, even in the bathroom.

You tried but his cock kept slamming into your g-spot. You were unable to contain your gasps and moans.

“Shut up dammit.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Sorry ain’t good enough.”

You shoved your face into his shoulder, feeling the leather of his jacket, smelling his cologne and cigarettes.

He didn’t stop nor slow down, thrusting into you like his life depended on it, using you as a stress relief.

You felt the same coil once again, feeling it throb, pooling in your abdomen.

“Imma-!”

“(Y/n)?!”

You were dragged out of your daze and pulled away from him, nearly falling in the process. “The hell?” Daryl luckily caught you.

But you hushed him, slipping your flimsy underwear back on.

It was Amy. “(Y/n)? Andrea said she saw you comin’ in here.” You heard her footsteps coming closer to the stall you were in.

“Stay here.” You mumbled to him, soothing your dress and coming out of the stall before she could reach it.

She let out a sigh of relief. “Thank god, I thought you were dead when Andrea said she saw you comin’ in here with the guy.” She looked over your shoulder. “Where is he?”

“Um, we talked and I… I got his number.” You lied, still trying to reel back.

“Really?! Oh my god! You gotta tell us!” She grabbed you by the arm and dragged you out of the bathroom. “We’re headin’ home!”

“What? Why?”

“Andrea, punched a guy.”

“Is she okay?!”

“Oh yeah!” Amy smiled and pointed to Andrea who was waiting by the exit. “Let’s go home!”

You closed the door behind you, Andrea dropped you off since she had to get Amy home quickly, she had a feeling she was going to vomit.

You kicked off your heels, sighing and your feet felt the relief of no longer wearing those heels.

You began to take off your earrings and walked to your bedroom when you heard knocking.

You carefully came to the door and slowly opened it, having a clear confused look on your face. Even more when Daryl stood there.

You looked around first before coming back to him. “...How did you find where I live?”

Daryl held up a bag, your bag. “Left it in the bathroom. Ran out ‘fore I could say anythin’.”

You took the bag, still wary. “Well, thanks. But how did you know where to go?”

Daryl shrugged, a relaxed expression on his face. “Saw yer ID. Figured it ain’t far.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Stalker tendencies, Daryl?”

“Just lookin’ out for a damsel in distress.”

You giggled. “I’m sure losing my bag ain’t bein’ in distress, but points for effort.”

“I’ll be in town for a couple months, see ya ‘round?”

“You wanna come in for a bit? I gotta thank you for gettin’ my bag.”

“Ya gonna run off again?”

“Maybe.”

Daryl stepped closer. “Maybe?” He grinned again.

You grabbed his hand and led him into your apartment and shut the door before. You didn’t have a second to react before he was already on you.

This was definitely a night you did not fucking regret.

© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission. None of the photos used belong to me!

Taglist ➳ @deansapplepie , @ladylincoln , @gamingfeline , @lady06reaper , @alanamarie , @daryldixmedown ,

» » YOU’RE HERE « « ⊰ Chapter 2 ⊰

[lunarw0rks]

everybody sitting at the breakfast table watching könig swallow down something in five minutes that took you almost an hour to make like //:

könig has like two giant plates to himself; eggs, waffles, ham/bacon, hashbrowns, and a green smoothie !!!

he'll work most of it off, obviously. and a man of his stature needs to EAT. but goddamn. should you be offended or impressed? i'm not sure either.

and the big mf just inhales it?? hello sir?? mister colonel !!! me next

[xfiddlin-fishsticsx]

Everywhere, Everything

DPxDC

Danny looked up at the door in front of him with dread and nearly considered turning back when an image flashed through his head to remind him why he was here.

He was staring down the barrel of a bulky silver gun at a faceless woman with short red hair. Her finger moved and Danny squeezed his eyes shut to avoid seeing it play out again.

After calming himself down he returned his thoughts to the door, shaky and completely ready to run at the first signs of plotting, he rings the doorbell.

After a few moments he can hear clamoring and footsteps before they stop right in front of the door, several locks click and Vlad finally opened the door to an exhausted, tense, somewhat crying Danny Fenton.

Vlad only let his surprise show for a moment before it turned to honest concern as he ushered him inside, he sat Danny down in a cozy sitting room and disappeared into what could only be the kitchen.

Vlad returned a moment later with two steaming mugs, he set one in front of Danny before standing above him and staring down.

Danny hesitantly looks up at Vlad, screwing his face up to portray his confusion. Vlad gave him that squinty, sort of pouty concern again before signing and kneeling down to look Danny in the eye.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

Danny shook his head, “Not hurt. Just tired” and lost.

Vlad studied him, obviously looking for a lie, before huffing slightly and standing up again upon finding no tells that it wasn’t the truth, he moved and sat carefully next to Danny, gently setting his own mug down beside the boy’s and turning to look at him.

Danny looked back. Vlad sighed, “I’m not going to hurt you, little badger, I promise you’ll be safe here”

He spoke softly and though Danny should know better he couldn’t help but trust it. He felt his exhaustion catching up, and all of his anxiety and … slowing down and suddenly he was just tired. And sad.

He felt his chest heave and tears start slipping down his face as Vlad reached out to him.

Hesitantly the man put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him closer when Danny leaned into it. Danny sobbed against him for a while until he wore himself out and Vlad guided him to a room. He promptly passed out on the bed, tears drying slowly. He slept all night for the first time in who knows how long.

——————————

Danny woke up sore and still tired, he slowly came back to awareness and barely avoided panic as everything registered.

He slowly dragged himself out of the bed and to the bathroom to wash his face. Once he felt more awake and clean he slipped out of the room and down the hall to the stairs.

He found the kitchen and consequently Vlad in the kitchen, he only hoped the man was better at cooking than his— the Fentons as he watched him stir something on the stove.

As Danny inched further into the room Vlad caught onto his presence and slowly turned to face him with a soft smile.

Danny looked up at him owlishly as Vlad used his head to gesture Danny to the seats at the counter before returning to the pan.

Danny slunk to the counter and sat down, fiddling with his sleeves and zoning out on the nice countertops.

Soon Vlad was playing food and setting it down in front of him, slowly sliding it into his field of vision. Danny’s eyes refocused to a plate of warm food, a fried egg, hashbrowns and toast.

He slowly sat up and reached for the utensils placed with it as Vlad took a seat next to him with a similar plate and a mug of coffee.

They ate in silence and Vlad directed him to the game/tv room before he left for work.

It was nice, peaceful. Vlad told him not to worry about ghosts for a bit. It stressed Danny out to no end but he was still happy to take the break.

At some point he had made his way back to his room for a nap. It was warm and quiet and he was so so tired.

——————————

One month later

It had been a month since Danny had run to Vlad and Danny has been 18 for two weeks now which meant his parents couldn’t touch him.

Vlad had taken him (and the cops) to go get what he wanted from the Fenton house, luckily they hadn’t been home. They had been trying to reach him though, claiming they missed their son, they missed him alright, or Danny wouldn’t be nearly as whole as he is.

So now he had his things. And his life. And a guaranteed room in Vlad’s mansion and his castle in Wisconsin.

Vlad had pulled him out of school for his last semester so he could try and catch up online a little bit before graduation. Which meant he didn’t really see Sam and Tuck anymore but they met up when they could and called.

Danny and Vlad had been in Wisconsin for a few weeks now, they were both in need of a break so they left Amity, Red had it covered and Danny had been somewhat succeeding in moderating the ghosts so only smaller animals and less destructive beings slipped through without permission.

Danny took a deep breath as he finished up the last of his school work for the week, now that he has time and could work at his own pace he was excelling.

He was on track to graduate early (though he wouldn’t) and he had started taking some preliminary college courses in his free time as well, which he had a lot of.

Danny was thriving.

Vlad knocked on his door.

“Hey, we’re going to a thing this weekend, we both need to get out of the house— err castle.”

Danny snickered, he did feel cooped up though, “what’s the thing? And where?”

“We’re going whether—“ He began “no I know, just curious.”

“Ah, ok, it’s a business party of sorts, for networking and all such efforts, it will be in Chicago I think, or was it Gotham…?”

“Uhh that’s a pretty big difference in location, and an important distinction, I’m down to hit up the crown city of crime but I’d like to be prepared first thank you.” Danny chuckled

Vlad hummed before he came to his final decision, “I think it must be Chicago, I would have remembered for sure if it was Gotham, I shall check nonetheless but I’m nearly 90% certain it’s Chicago. I’ll be right back,” was the last thing Vlad declared as he turned back out of Danny’s room and left to find a device with whatever email or such he had received about it.

Danny laughed to himself at the man’s antics before he got back, he considered the idea of the event more, a rich people ‘networking’ party. Mannn that sounds like a blast he thought sarcastically.

Was he gonna have to wear a suit??

Before he could think anymore Vlad reappeared with his phone and a tablet open looking through it.

“Ah here we go,” he muttered to himself before looking back at Danny, “it’s Chicago, it’s more of a rich people event than business, and it sounds like some younger people have been invited, so maybe some kids around your age…” he trailed off as he scrolled through more, Danny just gave him a look,

“I’m not technically a kid anymore.”

“Hush…it’s formal attire, we’ll have to get you a suit, I’ll take you to my tailor and pick you something nice…there will be food and refreshments but no full meal, good that means we won’t be forced to sit at a table and eat with a bunch of people…”

He trailed off again as he kept looking through it. He hummed softly as he took in information and Danny grabbed his phone as he felt it buzz

Sammy Wammy ;3

Sam

Hey can you call rn?

Danny

Give me a minute

Vlad and I are discussing stuff

Sam

Ok cool text me when ur good!

Danny

Will Do! <33

He quickly texted Sam back as Vlad started talking again

“I just got a flight set up, the gala is on Saturday evening but our flight is Friday morning, we’ll get there and have some extra time to recover before hand… the hotel is provided with the invite so it’s easy and close, I already put in for our room so all we have to do is check in on Friday when we get there…”

He hummed as he looked over what Danny assumed to be either a checklist or just notes, “you should start packing either tonight or tomorrow, I’ll call my tailor and we can go in tomorrow so start thinking about what you want, I’ll help you with that in a moment, I have some thoughts on color and style to suggest but ultimately Jacie will help tomorrow as well…we’ll get shoes and accessories then as well so for now…”

He looked through the list again, a slight furrow in his eyebrows as he went through what they needed to do in the next two days before the trip

“Hum, I think those are the biggest points, I’m not too concerned about your manners or anything, just be you and the rich people can suck it if they’re miffed,” Danny sputtered, “you know you’re a rich person too right? You fit right in with all those gala folks…”

Vlad turned a look on him, “that doesn’t mean I have to like them, or like myself for that matter, I despise these events becuase of the image I am forced to portray, you, my young, vulnerable Danny, have no image to your name yet, that means you have complete freedom this weekend, I’d prefer you be respectful and not drag my name but if you do something foolish I will not hesitate to verbally disown you in the face of the situation.”

Danny laughed again, it felt good, had he not been laughing before? “Honestly that’s fair, I won’t do anything stupid though, I’d rather not have a bunch of pissed off rich people on my ass.”

Vlad nodded approvingly before double checking the list, “ah do you have your work done for the week yet?”

“Yep, just finished up before you came in”

“Even your prep work for the college classes?”

“Yep!”

Vlad studied him for a moment, before smiling and nodding, “good, keep that up and you’ll get somewhere with it, I want better for you Danny, you deserve to get further than I ever did, and further away from those bast—“

His eyes glowed a bit as he cut himself off with a snarl, Danny gave him a sad look, he appreciated the anger, honestly, it was nice having someone aside from Sam or Tuck getting angry on his behalf, it was even better having Vlad do it and still stay in control so easily, Danny had stopped getting angry after meeting Dan, the fear of what he might become worse than any rage he felt.

Even though he knew deep down it couldn’t happen again already, he was here with Vlad and he had yet to feel bad enough to ask for half of him to be removed (like a coward) besides, Danny’s Vlad would never agree to such a thing, in fact Danny had made him swear he wouldn’t ever let Danny do that, and he had promised, even though he was confused.

Vlad walked around his bed to pat his shoulder and Danny initiated a loose hug, he appreciated that too, Vlad let him initiate everything and he respected his boundaries so well too. It was nice having someone who acknowledged that he didn’t always want to talk or be touched.

Vlad had made a lot of progress towards redemption in the last couple of years, even more so in the last month, Danny was proud of him, and thankful for the dedication to be better for him

———————

Another snippet! This one I already have a couple more chapters written for and a very clear storyline set out, this will be a full fic! This is like half of the first chapter which is posted in full on my Ao3 (linked above!) the fic is linked below!

It’s a spirit Halloween fic in which Bruce and Danny become infamous business “rivals” when they’re actually making out in bathrooms and closets bts

Secret relationship and fake rivals, strangers to lovers to strangers back to lovers again. They meet before bruce leaves to train and again when he returns and Danny opens up shop…

[wrangleandtame]

Here’s yet another Tyler x Kate fic - can’t stop myself ♥️🌪️

ANNUAL DERECHO

Kate’s anger came in tractable forms Tyler had easily categorized during their three months together. Most frequently when Tyler pissed her off, he’d easily disarm her with his warm charm or an earnest declaration. Occasionally, her quiet melancholy could metastasize into a subtle ire that she contained by seeking solitude. He knew this, and gave her the space she required to shake it off. These were rare occurrences, though, within her generally sunny and energetic mien.

For the last week, the team found themselves particularly unlucky in their weather chasing within Texas, resulting in tension and general unease. Kate never appeared perturbed by the losses, often taking to the radio with optimistic little comments: “Can’t wrangle them all.” “It’ll happen.” “Just a dry spell.” Tyler marveled at how a few encouraging words from Kate could reset the entire team’s attitude.

Today was different. She awoke with a biting choler dripping from each syllable. Simple questions, she met with curt monosyllabic answers, and avoided eye contact (her tell.) She busied herself with mundane tasks, anything it seemed, to avoid inertia.

He’d placed a hand on her back, and she’d bristled. She swerved to avoid his kiss, like she was dodging a fastball. The lightest physical affection she pulled from as though her skin burned from his touch.

His breakfast-loving Kate, who normally stacked hashbrowns and eggs into weird towers before consuming, who stuffed whole pancakes and sausages into a baggie “for later,” she’d say when rushed, today couldn’t be bothered to eat. Weather didn’t dictate rushing this morning, but she’d ordered only toast and coffee for breakfast, consuming a single bite of toast and three sips of black coffee (she preferred it sweet and creamy) before the scrutiny of his eyes upon her proved too much.

She’d mumbled, “not hungry, I’ve got to…” She’d stood up and left without finishing her sentence.

When he’d joined her in the truck (why wasn’t she sitting outside? The truck had to be moving for Kate to be happy within it.) she’d turned her knees away from him and dug through her bag, never finding what she sought.

Kate’s body broadcast her feelings better than words, something anyone with eyes could discern. Her shoulders lifted and tight, her jaw muscles clenched, she continued hunching over her computer, scowling at the screen. Every part of her looked wound tight, her countenance like a rubber band pulled to snapping.

He watched her face press into frustration while she typed furiously, pausing to pull out her tablet and only became further irritated with whatever she read.

“Stop staring at me,” she grumbled.

“You’re too damn pretty Kate; what the hell am I supposed to do? Like tellin’ someone to quit lookin’ at a sunrise.”

She didn’t respond with words, but her face momentarily transmuted from annoyance to a contemplative doleful expression. If he was reading her right, and he knew he was, guilt and regret had a hand in whatever was so obviously plaguing her.

“Something you want to talk about?” The bait probably too big for the hook, but he cast the line anyway.

“Like what?” She bit out, not raising her eyes from her screen.

“Weather? Politics?” She flinched at his words as though he yelled them through a bullhorn.

When she didn’t respond, he sighed quietly and said, “Just gonna check in with Dani and Dexter. If you need me, I’ll be across the lot.”

Her response was a terse nod again devoid of visual connection.

He whipped out a folding chair positioning himself next to Dani and Dexter; though his open laptop perched upon his denimed knees, his eyes barely left Kate’s form.

“She okay?” Dani asked, concern in her voice.

He gave her a brief reassuring smile, “She will be, but no, not right now she’s not.”

She didn’t require more of an explanation, and neither had Dexter, thankfully. Lily and Boone had driven into Galveston to pick up a part for the drone, relieving Tyler of the type of questions and interaction Boone would require given Kate’s behavior.

Several hours passed, and they asked little from Tyler. Instead, Dexter and Dani passed between them Doppler updates, snacks and weather chaser gossip as they reviewed disappointing projections.

When Javi’s truck pulled into the parking lot, Tyler straightened in surprise.

“Hey, thought Javi was in Galveston too,” Dani noticed. “Isn’t he supposed to be meeting with those fellas at NWS in Fort Worth?” Dexter asked.

“Far as I know,” Tyler murmured.

Javi parked near Tyler’s truck, hopped out and made a beeline for Kate. She glanced up, and an emotion Tyler couldn’t identify crossed her face.

She immediately shoved her tech aside, clambered out of the truck and briskly walked to Javi; when they reached each other, they hugged fiercely. Tyler could see her shoulders began shaking the way they did when she cried. She was fucking crying.

Tyler stood, started for them, and then stopped. Despite all of his instincts screaming to comfort her, he sat back down. Whatever the hell was going on between them, Tyler’s presence wasn’t needed, and he reminded himself to respect her boundaries. This did not come naturally to Tyler. He possessed a proclivity for protectiveness to the point of being downright territorial, though he hid it well, he thought. Thankfully, his desire to honor Kate’s wishes overrode any possessiveness that reared its very unattractive head.

Dexter patted him on the back, and quietly praised him, “well done.” Maybe he didn’t hide it that well.

It upset him to think on how all morning she had sternly rebuked his every attempt at connection, but Javi just appeared, and they were having this moment together.

Within this mounting frustration, an epiphany struck Tyler, and he whispered, “I’m an idiot.”

“What’s that?” Dani asked.

“Nothing,” he responded, his thoughts swirling with the formation of a plausible hypothesis for Kate’s mood, and Javi’s presence.

Now that he knew what he was looking for, Tyler studied their interaction for confirmation. Javi’s eyes were closed, but even from here, Tyler could see several rogue tears escape down his face. He said something, Tyler could see his mouth moving, and Kate pulled back a bit from Javi’s embrace, wiping roughly at her eyes and nose.

They continued to talk, Kate’s arms folded around herself as they did, and then to Tyler’s great relief, she half-smiled. Javi laughed lightly and Kate nodded. Javi pulled napkins from his pocket and handed half of them to Kate. She blew her nose, and he blew his, and they laughed again. Not joyous laughing, but still, it wasn’t crying.

Javi stuffed his napkins in his pocket and pointed at his truck. They hugged again quickly, Kate smiled wistfully, and Javi jogged back towards his truck. He caught Tyler’s eye, and with a subtle dip of his head offered a wordless greeting. Tyler returned it with a smile.

When Tyler tried to locate Kate again, she was walking quickly towards the convenience store across the street.

Tyler sauntered back over to his truck to wait for her to return and checked his phone, confirming his theory. Sure enough, on the same date, five years ago, an EF5 tornado ended the lives of Kate and Javi’s friends. He pulled open his phone’s calendar and typed: “Anniversary of Kate’s Tornado” and set it to a yearly reminder.

Kate exited the convenience store, and as she closed the distance between them, he smiled, “Hungry yet?”

She shook her head, and handed him a peace offering bottle of cold tea, “I’m sorry. I’ve been such a complete asshole today. I didn’t mean to - “

“S’okay Kate,” he smiled.

“It’s not. I’ve been awful to you.”

“You’re entitled to have a bad day every once in awhile.”

“Sure, but…I took it out on you,” she looked at the gravel and then up at him (finally! Prolonged eye contact!), her glassy eyes red-rimmed.

“I don’t want to hurt you. Ever,” she sniffed. “I’m so sorry. Forgive me?”

“Nothin’ to forgive,” he smiled softly. “Be alright if I hold you a minute?”

Unshed tears made her dusky sienna eyes sparkle, “Yes. Please.”

She leaned into his chest and he clutched her to him, one arm around her waist and one drawing her head closer. He kissed her head and stroked her hair. She unconsciously grabbed a fistful of his soft brown shirt like she was keeping him from pulling away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, and he wondered if she was apologizing to some ghosts as well.

“It’s alright, honey. I can take it,” he kissed the top of her head again, and pulled her against him even tighter. He ran his thumb along her spine up and down slowly, “it’s alright.”

“Thank you,” she sniffed.

“For what?”

“For being you.”

AUTHOR’s NOTE: thank you to this beautiful fandom for all of your encouraging feedback. The dopamine hits from your comments is giving me life.

Was thinking of doing another chapter of this one from Kate’s perspective of the day. What do you think? Move on?

Am also working on two other Kate x Tyler fics - obsessed is an understatement.

[desolateyears]

found family trope+Robin Steve n Eddie's first sleepover 🖤 wc:1k :))

Steve loves sleepovers. Getting cozy and watching movies all night, sharing beds, waking up in the morning with bed head and trailing into the kitchen to make breakfast.

Those days kind of dwindled the older Tommy and him got. When the neighorhood boys and girls he played with became older and meaner. Sleepovers weren't fun especially when you could party instead, obviously.

Sleepovers turned into people passing out on his couch because they got too drunk, that's the closest he ever got once he finished middle school.

And he can't blame them really. People grow up and he grew up right along with them. Doesn’t mean he doesn't miss it though.

He kind of resigned himself to never having those kind of warm mornings and the closeness and vulnerability that those mornings came with.

Of course, until he meets Robin and Eddie.

He's never had friends like them that want to hang out All of the time. And he wants to do the same. He never gets tired of being around them, even if he bitches and moans when they both bully him and he threatens to throw them out on the street.

His house is the easiest to hang out at. They have had hang outs at Robin's and Eddie's but it's not the same as Steve's. When he outgrew his childhood bedroom his parents moved him to the basement. So on the rare occasion that they are home, they don't care if he has people over anyway. He has the whole basement to himself.

There's something special about the basement too. It's the first place thats he's made his. He's proud of himself for transforming what used to be a damp concrete basement into something comfortable and styled exactly how he wants it to be. Not only that, but he can see the physical evidence of the mark that his friends have left on his basement, too. That’s why it's special.

Eddie's books lay on the the trashy coffee table they found on the side of the road. Robin's doodles cover the table and other various surfaces, like the walls, the floor, some on his shoes so that they match hers. Eddie's numerous buttons that he's gifted Steve, studs and spikes that Steve always manages to step on too. The only solid black that colors the basement is the billions of pieces of clothing Eddie leaves draped on the couch, a lampshade or two, always surrounding his bed on the floor.

They're always making art together. Steve has like zero artisitc capability, but that doesn't stop him because Robin and Eddie only encourage. They paint and decorate everything and get acrylic paint in each other's hair and wrestle each other like they're little kids. The walls have become a collage of stupid art they put there when they're all high off their asses.

They make room for things to blossom. They make safety and home. They smoke and drink and pass out sprawled on top of each other. They talk while they pee and teasingly push each other while they brush teeth in the morning. There's tampons in the bathroom just for Robin. There's a pile of records that he never listens to unless he's here that are just for Eddie. There's all of these things here that make the basement Steve's but also Theirs.

And the best time is when his parents are gone and they make the upstairs theirs too.

His first sleepover with them is one that he's not ever going to forget.

When Robin and Eddie cook and Steve just watches. Loves how they just know where everything is after months of spending time in his house and how they move around each other expertly. How the early and warm sunlight shows the bright blonde highlights in Robin's hair. And when the light catches Eddie's eyes just right, there are hints of light browns and greens.

They're all in pajamas, both sets from Steve's own wardrobe, and his heart clenches fiercly at the sight.

They make chocalate chip pancakes and hashbrowns and bacon. The smell hits his nose and triggers something nostalgic in Steve's brain.

While they can work in tandem, though, that's not without the mess, no sir. Pancake batter splatters across tabletops and faces. Eddie licks the spatula and Robin yells at him to 'stop it!' In retaliation he licks her face and she shouts a loud, 'EDWARD MUNSON! If you like being part of the land of the living, you better fucking stop.' And she rips the spatula away from him and points it toward him like it's a sharp knife and not something made out of rubber.

Steve laughs so fucking hard that his sides hurt and he has to rest his head against the marble counterop and bang his fists against it and tears spring from his eyes and Eddie tells him to 'stay out of it Steve!'

And Steve responds with 'I love you'.

It's directed to both of them and they know.

They make it easy to say, to openly declare love when before them he always kept it all under wraps.

And they say they love him too.

And he tells them, 'I think this is the most content I've felt since I was a kid.'

Robin and Eddie pass glances to each other and then look back at him, matching soft smiles just for Steve.

Right as Eddie begins to open his mouth to probably give him some sweet and kind response back, Robin cuts him off with a, 'You just want a family Steve.' And it's not meant to be a dig, just an astute, albeit teasing, observation.

And Steve becomes aghast, inhales, 'Okay I take it back. I only love Eddie.'

'Yeah Buckley, take that.' And Eddie sticks his tongue out at her.

Jesus, way to read him like a fucking book.

It doesn't...hurt. It's just a little scary to be shown once more that he's so bare in front of these people. And also how Robin always makes him get introspective, which it's way too early to fucking do, thanks Robin.

She's not wrong though.

He does want that. Had naive ideas of what that looked like not that long ago but once he realizes, he gets hit with a force that almost knocks him out of his chair.

He does have a family.

For the first time, he has a family. It wasn’t how he always pictured but that’s what it feels like anyhow.

He feels home.

[cloudcountry]

simple spade serenity

SUMMARY: Local Ginger Calls Local Bumbling Fool Stupid, Reader Scares The Shit Out Of Him And Helps Bumbling Fool Feel Better With Eggs.

CHARACTER: Deuce Spade.

WARNINGS: None!!

COMMENTS: had no idea how to describe this so uhhh here you go. i wrote this for my friend on quotev so they've seen this already (u silly deuce spade liker) so yes. here it is!!

~~~~~

It was common knowledge that Deuce Spade could not do math, and that the Ramshackle Prefect spent hours going over the material with him.

Deuce is once again hunched over an algebra worksheet, hand resting atop a mass of disheveled navy blue hair. His brain feels like it’s going to pop free from his head and explode, and his skin’s warming up with the stress of not being able to figure it out and the embarrassment of Ace’s heckling.

“Dude, we learned this in middle school! How could you not know this?” Ace laughs, slinging an arm around his friend’s shoulder, “You’re so dumb, it’s a mystery as to how you were even accepted into Night-”

“Hey.”

Deuce nearly falls out of his chair at the loud, scolding tone from the doorway. Ace whips his head towards them, the Ramshackle Prefect, glaring daggers at the boy while holding a platter full of breakfast comfort foods.

“Woah, easy Prefect. I was just joking around.” Ace laughs, pulling himself away from Deuce, “Uh, I gotta go practice at the basketball club now. Bye Deuce, bye Prefect.”

“Deuce, you’re not stupid.” they huff, ignoring Ace as he whistles his way out of the lounge, “You’re just as wonderful as everyone else.”

They set the plate of berries and hashbrowns and two heart shaped omelets beside him and scoot far too close to him to take a peek at his worksheet, They hum and rest their head on his shoulder, and he feels his cheeks heating up.

“Mmm, what is with this problem? I can’t understand it either.” they mumble, furrowing their brow cutely as they stare at the page, “We should get Riddle. He’ll be able to tell you.”

It makes him feel better when they don’t understand it either. He loves that they don’t make fun of him too.

“You really don’t think I’m stupid? I’m sure I am.” he blurts, unbelievably frustrated at his lack of understanding.

“No, Deuce. You aren’t stupid.” they say, wrapping their arm around his shoulder in a comforting side hug, “You may not understand math, but you’re the first person I’d go to if I needed a handyman. Does Ace know how to fix a sink? I don’t think so.”

“...You’re right.” he mumbles, gathering up the courage to tilt his head slightly to the left so he can lean on them, too.

“Of course I am.” they giggle, darting up to smack a kiss against his cheek, “Now, eat! You’re obviously tired and upset, and you’ll never be able to work that way.”

Deuce thinks he’s about to pass away when they saw off a piece of the omelet, stab it with their fork, and bring it to his lips with a cheerful “say ahhh!”

At least he’d die happy.

[cellu-lightreading]

Uncle Mac's Football Fans

You can find more episodes of Uncle Mac's here or start with the brand new one below!

Looking at the group of guys gathered in the restaurant it was hard for Jason to not feel proud. His little side project may not have been the kind of work that a foundation would pay for, but it was still a good service. Whenever he looked down at his soft middle, he was sure that he was doing the right thing. Retirement was hitting him hard. After a few years playing professional football, it was time for him to take off the helmet for good. But the challenge for every retired player is not blowing up like a blimp now that you’re not exercising like a maniac. The challenge is even harder for guys like Jason who are big and were always encouraged to eat and stay big. He already had a nice sized gut sitting in his lap and it was only going to grow. He knew that one day he was going to be just like them: massively pudgy beyond most people’s understanding. Not a single one of these men were under 350 pounds, and Jason had crossed over into 300 himself just a couple months. Some day soon he was going to be the one eating faster than he can size up at the men's department.

Maybe that’s why when he heard Scott’s story he was so immediately drawn to help out. Scott had been a fan of the local team for decades, even before he moved into town. Someone was kind enough to gift Scott with season tickets so he could watch them play in person for the first time. When he got to the stadium, he found out that the seats were all too small for him to squeeze into. Scott had to forfeit his tickets and miss the game because the tiny plastic chairs wouldn’t accommodate for his pillowy love handles enough for his cellulite-ridden ass to sit down. Scott obviously couldn’t stand and watch the whole game. One of the local stations decided to interview him and he looked like a stereotype. There were ketchup and mustard stains from his hot dogs. He was drenched in sweat; he wasn’t used to doing all this walking around anymore, especially in the late summer sun. When Jason laid eyes on Scott, he knew he needed to do something. 

Jason’s first idea was to head to the front office and demand change. They quickly explained to him that they would not install wider seats and reduce the capacity and thereby sell less tickets. They dismissed him just after laughing at the idea of trying to switch out the whole stadium for fat people. 

His next idea was to go to the seat of fat men’s power: Uncle Mac’s restaurant. Uncle Mac’s was notorious for accommodating big guys and granting their wishes. Usually it was a food related wish, but still. Jason wasn’t allowed to come here most of the year while he was playing, so it felt like a treat just getting to smell the sugary salty air. Mac seemed excited just to have Jason in his restaurant. 

“Well if it isn’t number 57, just like Heinz! What brings you on in?”

“I had a pitch for you, but if you keep me in here too long, I’m going to have to take a snack break.”

Mac gave Jason a pat on the gut. “Well we could always start with food and do the business while you eat. You’re here first thing in the morning, I could get you some biscuits and gravy, maybe some chicken and waffles.”

“I do love your fried chicken.”

“And we always serve real pieces of chicken, not tenders.”

“Maybe put in an order with a side of hashbrowns.”

Within moments, one of the waiters brought two platters into the office. Mac watched Jason chow down like he was watching a strip tease. He had heard the rumors about Mac; he knew what was happening. Mac might not like football, but he thought Jason was hot. Jason explained his next idea:  a football fan club for the super obese. The team would advertise Uncle Mac’s as the place to go for everyone who couldn’t waddle into a seat for a home game. 

Mac was scared the drunken fans might scare off his usual brunch clientele, but agreed to a trial run season on one condition: Jason must eat a meal at the restaurant every week. A meal a week doesn’t seem like much if you don’t know about Uncle Mac’s cooking. Uncle Mac made some of the most addictive calorie-laden food in the country.  Jason could hear the warnings from his old coaches and his wife in the back of his head. He licked the syrup and crumbs off his fingers and agreed to it. 

At the first meeting of the fan club, Jason almost felt a little secure in his deal. Jason watched some of the biggest guys he had ever seen waddle through the door.  The waiters were on a first name with most of the guys. They shuffled around to give them reinforced seats and still he heard furniture groan under the weight.  If too many of them jumped to their feet at once, it shook the whole restaurant. Jason finally got to meet Scott who had put on some more weight in the month since the debacle. His tent-sized jersey was actually getting small. It rode up at the bottom, exposing stretch marks across the fresh flab. Jason figured that once a week would still keep him away from being the size of these guys. After all, their order were far bigger than his. One guy ate corn dogs non-stop the whole first quarter just to order a meal afterwards with Uncle Mac’s usual giant portions. 

Every week, Jason had a platter with the game and watched in bewilderment as the waiters cheered on their increasing growth. The waiters marked every single sign of weight gain: popped buttons, snapped belts, a new double chin. The whole restaurant would erupt in thunderous applause if one of the chairs gave out under someone. Every time it happened, it made the waiters push out more food at the next game. Jason and the rest of the fan club would keep absentmindedly chewing on every fat-riddled snack as long as football was on. Mac would make up specials just for his increasingly hungry fan club. Jason thought he was just a passive observer until one day it was his turn. 

The week before Christmas, Jason was making plans now that it looked like the team was going to the playoffs. He was walking past the section of booths when another big guy was coming down the aisle. Without thinking, Jason goes:

“Excuse me, let me just squeeze past you.” Jason turned sideways and knocked a set of silverware off the table. He bent over and a memory flashed in his mind from that morning. Trying to jump and yank those pants over his thighs and ass had rattled the windows.  His poor wife had to help him button them up because they would not snap closed and he couldn’t see under his belly. A little extra tension on those pants was too much for those threads. The crackling sound of the rip made the whole restaurant turn around. Jason scooped up the silverware and then scurried away. 

That was not the most embarrassing moment of his first year, though. The week of the conference final at the end of January, Jason got a message saying they wanted to honor him with an award at the next game. He happily obliged and found some new tailored clothes for the occasion. Nevermind that the tailoring actually made all the fold of his moobs and belly more pronounced for national television. No, the worst was when he was lined up with some of the greats of his team and they gave them special seats. Jason lowered himself and realized that he was having a little difficulty. The hard plastic pinched at his sides. His ass wouldn't quite settle. Jason realized that now he was just like Scott. He was now the giant fat man too big to enjoy football in the stadium, and anyone with a screen could watch it happen in real time. 

Mac immediately sent him a text that read, “You are officially an Uncle Mac’s spokesperson. The restaurant is yours as many seasons as you want it or at least as long as you can waddle through my doors. Look at everyone who came!”Mac sent a picture where every corner of the frame was filled with an ocean of fat wearing the tattered remains of team merch they had outgrown. Even Scott was grinning with his ass overflowing two chairs and a pair of team sweatpants with giant holes where his thighs had worn down the fabric. Mac sent another text, “We have the old jersey you didn’t finish busting through waiting on you.”

Jason looked down the row and saw some of the other fat guys trying to adjust their flab in the narrow seats. He called out, “Hey, who wants a bit to eat?”

[youronlybean]

Please,,,, 5e Team Sickos 🥺👉👈

Format: Name - [Subrace] Race, Subclass Class, Background + any relevant feats

Chilled - Human Variant (high Cha. Obviously), College of Whispers Bard, Charlatan with the Silver-Tongued feat

Ze - Tiefling, Drakewarden Ranger, Sage(?)

Shubble - Forest Gnome, Circle of Spores Druid, Hermit

For Chilled I was so torn between Mastermind Rogue and Whispers Bard, since they are both such deception-based classes, but ultimately I thought bard was more true to his goofier side. Charlatan was the obvious choice for his background, and a slight homage to the cardboard shop bit. He also just gives human energy, variant for the higher charisma stat.

For Ze I honestly had no idea. I thought at first maybe Barbarian but none of the subclasses really called to me. I went with Drakewarden Ranger because I want Ze to have a dragon companion. Possibly named Hashbrown. That’s it. He’s a tiefling because of the horns, and I don’t know about background but I thought Sage bc comp-sci degree lol. I liked the artificer idea for this reason but uhhh. Dragon!!!!

So Shubble’s is obvious if you watched Empires (go watch Empires). Circle of Spores is because of S2 with the Evermoore, and she’s a Gnome and a Hermit because of S1 with Shrub. Spores felt right for the Evermoore because of the Necrotic spells, as well as the decay and the Skulkfan135 incident.

[thesupremeoverlordismysister]

Came up with an idea last night.

So, obviously sports bars are everywhere, right? Like, literally there are so many sports bars in so many different areas, it's ridiculous. You know what we need instead???

THE TROPE TAVERN

A fandom/fan inspired bar where all the food is inspired by different tropes/jokes in the fandoms. The tv screens? Each playing a different show or movie. Don't see your favorite show? There's a request list up at the bar. It's reviewed everyday so we can be sure to give the fans what they want.

The food?

Enemies to Friends to Lovers Empinadas

Accidental Baby Acquisition Apple Pie

Forced Proximity Frittatas

Found Family French Toast

Love Triangle Lava Cake

Single Parent Soft Serve

Mistaken Identity Milkshake

Hurt/Comfort Hashbrowns

Meet Cute Mocktail

lol. we thought of this last night and its all i've been able to think about. Your welcome. @skyeward-otp

[crimsonblackrose]

.

Ah yes, the apple computer is a lemon because Lyle accidentally found himself as tech support.

Johnny's first computer is a Dell laptop. I wonder though if in the 80's they had computer classes, because then he might've known a desktop, which is still a different set up then a clunky Dell laptop.

LYLE WHAT IS THAT?!

Johnny is at least moving at the right part of the computer that is the mouse. Even though the cursor isn't moving. He also manages to open up every single Microsoft program ever, which how does he have those? They're totally extra now right?

Where's the internet? Have you tried connecting to the wifi? Obviously....what's wifi?

Book 2: The Internet for Dummies

His wifi password is Strike1strike (hard one guesses?)

Hot Babes > Wet T-shirt contest > Iron Eagle > Bloodsport (Lol he stops to read a blog post about it)> Conspiracy Theories (The Actual Truth: Mind Control, Flat earth, fluride poisoning children, herbal remides for sleep, faked moon landing, and of course dinosauras built the pyramids, zac efron is elvis's son) > misc fighting video from a movie I don't know. >all american karate championship on youtube> Top 10 spin kicks (blocked by a Daniel advertisement for Miyagi-do where he purposefully shows kicking Johnny in the face as part of his ad)

Daniel, darling, dearest, my boy, you were pissed when Cole made a targeted ad, you're literally putting kicking Johnny in the face on the worst night of his life (one of) as your ad for your dojo. You even say "Don't be a snake in the grass. Be a champion."

And then Daniel's once again undercutting Johnny's finances by making sure all the sessions are free. Which I get is because his lessons with Mr. Miyagi were free but still.

You know I do like that they didn't actually show google, and just made their own random generic internet search

New movie rec: Bloodsport

Whose making the cobra kai merch? a beach ball and a towel?

Demetri claiming the wins of Cobra Kai as his own is...something.

First mention of Johnny's rap sheet, I like how Eli's parents actually did their research on the guy teaching their kids.

Valley fest mention (did they only do valley fist in this one instance in the whole series?)

Amanda is a CEO.

Daniel spent half the Q3 (third quarter) marketing budget for LaRusso Auto on his dojo advertisement. That seems...uh...financially very bad. I don't know legal laws for corporations but...bad.

Like he excuses it because the dealership will get publicity at the Valley fest, but still to take corporate funds to use for personal I feel like is an actual white collar crime.

Jessica Bluestein is I guess one of Amanda's friends or coworkers/staff whose husband started a ska band and then hooked up with a palates instructor half his age.

Amanda misses the simple days of dicks on billboards. Which fair, it's going to get a million times worse Amanda, so be prepared.

Anoush got transferred from Encino to North Hollywood. Which I guess is a downgrade

Sam's hair when it's braided or in these little three buns is very cute.

Robby's hot water was also turned off.

Jacuzzi confirmed at the LaRusso's. It must be that thing by the fire place. Also apparently a possum died in it.

There's also a cobra kai phone case. Seriously? Johnny did you have all this made or did the students have it all made?

Poor bonsai, also did you go out and buy these to hurt the bonsai? Also poor kid holding the bonsai that was dirt and ceramic and tree that hit him in the face.

What Johnny says is pretty much exactly how Tom Cole did his targeted ad against Johnny.

Hashbrown and send it to the internet.

His students doing his whole internet marketing team is very sweet, but also he needs to compensate them for all that free tech labor.

I don't think I'd fully realized that he'd bought more space from Zarkarian. I guess he just had this room locked for Zarkarian to have storage previously?

I get why the kids automatically assumed that because of Robby being Johnny's son that's why Johnny got mad at them for the tournament. But in reality his rules he tried to instill after the tournament was don't cheat and don't be unsportsmanlike. And that should apply to everyone even Robby. And maybe he should've reminded them of that rather than just shutting down the conversation and telling them to clean mats because they got into his business and it's not their business.

Especially since Kreese is going to use that to drive a wedge between them all.

I get why Amanda is getting frustrated, Daniel said that he used part of the budget to get eyes on his dojo, and it's fine because they have valley fest for the dealership. But then he goes after the dealership spot too.

I don't think she has a name yet and I don't remember it, but I like that she gives Johnny the 411 on free food. He's got kind of a community in the area. Lyle his tech person, the Mini Mart guy (sorry I forgot his name) and the homeless lady.

Did Kreese not know previously that Robby was Johnny's? Or that Johnny had a kid? Because it feels like not only does he have his eyes on a way to drive a wedge but also a target.

Johnny says he'll never get a chance to train Robby.

Kreese dumping a lot of paranoia and random fears on Johnny, like Daniel stealing away Miguel too.

Ah the correction, Johnny's learning and paying attention.

They changed it, Miguel and the Diaz's are in apartment 1.

Johnny kidnapping Miguel: 2? 1? I feel like generally he has the kids meet him somewhere rather than driving them somewhere.

Sal and the delicious chopped onion burgers. So Johnny knows the name of the chef at this diner and it's not Smitty's.

Robby's birthday Monday February 4, 2002 after 17 hours of labor.

Johnny was coming off a 3 day bender.

He gets chocked up when he says he failed Robby on his first day in the world and every day since.

Mr. Miyagi never taught Daniel how to use a weapon during the first 3 films, so sometime later he must've taught him some, at least a bo staff.

Stingray is out here talking about the teenage mutant ninja turtles, Donatello is his favorite.

The initial shots make it look like they're up much higher then they actually are.

Look how proud he looks to have that thing and his ice blocks. It is really cool.

Okay so it always comes off as if Johnny like snuck in and struck, but the fact someone dropped the logo over valleyfest makes me think someone on the valley fest prep team knew about it.

Yup I went back, it's right there rolled up above the Valley fest logo

Plus all the lighting people knew exactly where to direct the lighting and the music to play. So they knew that Daniel would get interrupted and didn't tell him.

The smoke, the lighting, the fireworks, Daniel someone did not give you an updated memo on this and the Valley Fest was more than happy to put this on without telling you. Also the amount of work these kids put in to perform on even less notice then Sam and Robby?!

Like sure Kreese is standing in the back talking to a tech person but still, they had to have gotten permission and people had to have agreed otherwise security would've taken them off the stage. Someone on the Valley Fest committee loved this idea.

This crowd craves violence.

Omg there's even custom logo lights being shown on the backwall.

I do love that Aisha got her own solo where she was blindfolded and kicked and broke a bunch of boards. She looks so happy and proud.

Like yes, them upsurping Daniel sucks, but also this is such a great celebration for his students. And also again Aisha! (add to it disproving one of Silvers goals of blinding your opponent and making them unable to do anything, here Aisha is proving you can still kick ass and not see, which you would think Daniel and Sam would be proud of her)

Hawk's jump kick is also really cool.

For a festival it also makes sense, they're throwing out merch and what not. It's fun for the crowd.

Daniel's thing would've been super cool, and two stages can go at the same time, the fact they completely stopped to watch Cobra Kai is a bit of a bummer, because they could've continued. Our local fest had a big main stage performance and then a small stage performance like super close but the noise pollution wasn't bad enough to disturb either. But because the crowd left and Daniel was so stunned they just seemed to have given up, when that didn't have to be the case, he could've show cased his own thing at the same time and gotten a different audience because Cobra Kai isn't going to be for everyone.

Johnny and his five cement bricks on fire. I wonder if those are from Cutter. (Daniel btw has 6 blocks of ice)

Kreese looks ecstatic in the back with the tech and sound people.

The melting ice makes me so sad every time.

So do you think Johnny and Daniel both had similar ideas of breaking bricks without Johnny knowing that Daniel had that planned? Because Daniel's plan was a secret, they just both thought it'd look cool? Daniel's of course is from TKK2 but did Kreese teach Johnny that? Johnny told Kreese that he had a few moves Kreese didn't teach him, and if that's the case where'd he pick those up?

Robby looks mad. That's probably one of the biggest one step forward another step back is that not only did Johnny upstage Daniel but he also upstaged his own son.

[maxlarens]

💌 what would your perfect day be?

ooh such a good question!!! i may have gone into too much detail😭 hmm okay it starts with no alarm set obviously and no one makes any noise that might wake me up. i have an iced coffee, hashbrowns and cooked mushroom for breakfast! then i go to the beach and read under a beach umbrella alllll day and if i go in the water it's not too cold and not too warm. i get beer battered fish and chips for lunch obviously. italian for dinner, some kind of penne pasta. i go home, nap in freshly washed sheets and watch a movie i've already seen, before going to sleep with the windows open. and i absolutely don't have work the next day so i cant stress about that.