#I do like him he's fun and he's always cheerful

[mythicalmaven]

(I used a screenshot of the original request in here, because I wans't able to reply to the original request anymore, whoops)

Here it finally is! Please let me know what you thought of it :) Requests are open btw! Feel free to request anything :) I'm considering to do kinktober as well this year, so leave your requests for that as well :)

Supposed To Be Mine - Charles Leclerc (ONESHOT)

Masterlist ↳pairing: charles leclerc x female!reader ↳word count: 4.9K ↳warnings: friends to lovers, jealous!sex, jealousy, (minor) possessiveness, jealous Charles, smut, 18+(MDNI!), handjob (m!receiving), pinv ↳summary: In which Oscar wins the Azerbaijan GP & Charles gets jealous because their mutual friend decides to celebrate with Oscar& not him (or so he thinks). This results in pent up emotions, a heated argument & of course, jealous sex

It was Sunday, September 15th when you found yourself making your way through the paddock. The sun was shining bright and the atmosphere was making you feel ecstatic. You, a familiar face on the grid, had been here to support your friends. While you usually worked as a member of the F1 TV team during Grand Prix, this weekend you were off duty, free to fully enjoy the festivities of the Grand Prix.

Over the years, you'd built strong friendships with most of the grid, but there were three drivers you were particularly close to: Oscar, Charles, and Alex. Each friendship had grown naturally, but in distinct ways.

Alex was the one who felt like a brother from the start. You clicked immediately, sharing the same dry humor, hobbies, and an undeniable love for animals. He was always there for you—whether it was picking you up from the club after too many drinks or cheering you up when your heart got broken again. If there was one word to describe your bond, it was siblings.

Then there was Oscar, your roommate. He ticked all the boxes for the perfect best friend. Your friendship took time to blossom, but once it did, you both quickly realized how well you fit together, purely platonically. The thought of taking it further had never crossed your minds—it just wasn’t like that. After moving to Monaco, you’d struggled to find an apartment, so Oscar offered you a place to stay. A year later, you were still living together because, honestly, it was too much fun to stop.

Then last, but certainly not least, Charles. Your bond with him was something else entirely. The connection between you felt effortless, almost surreal. He was the friend you could call at any hour to talk about anything or nothing. You could spend hours in comfortable silence, never growing bored. But Charles was also the friend that you had secretly been in love with for years. You knew you shouldn't be, your friendship worth way too much to risk it for a stupid crush. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get over him. Every time you dated someone else, it always came back to Charles.

But even if you'd allow yourself to feel the way you did about him, you'd already given up the hope of him ever feeling the same despite your friends insisting otherwise, pointing out how he smiled brighter when he was around you or how his gaze lingered a little longer. You were unable to believe it, the scenario seeming to good to be true.

There were moments—fleeting, breathless moments—when you thought something was there. Moments where your faces hovered inches apart, breaths mingling, hearts pounding. But right before anything could happen, one of you would pull back, retreating before the tension broke, both of you pretending it had never happened.

Charles had been in love with you longer than he cared to admit. Everything about you captivated him—the way your laughter filled a room, the ease with which you could calm him when he was frustrated, the way you just got him without him needing to explain a thing. Around you, he felt at ease and yet so unbelievably nervous. His heart would race whenever you were near, his palms would get sweaty, and he could feel the tension in his chest and stomach. There were so many times he’d wanted to pull you close, to feel your body against his, but something always stopped him.

It was fear. Fear that you would notice how much he felt for you and that it would scare you off. The thought of you realizing the depth of his feelings terrified him, because losing you, even as just a friend, was unthinkable. He tried to keep a distance for that reason, but it was impossible. You had this way of driving him wild without even trying, leaving him helpless in the wake of his emotions.

He’d fantasized about you more often than he dared to admit—so many nights spent alone in his apartment, hand slipping beneath his waistband, your name falling from his lips in breathless whispers. But it wasn’t just the physical desire; it was how much he felt when he was around you. You made him feel alive in a way no one else could.

And then, there was Oscar. The way you two were so close, always together, always laughing, sent a pang of jealousy through him. You said there was nothing romantic between you, but sometimes, Charles couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, you felt something for him. It ate at him, the idea of someone else having what he wanted so desperately. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold back.

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The roar of engines echoed across the pit lane as the top three finishers of the Azerbaijan Grand Prix parked their cars by their respective signs. Charles finished 2nd, which made you incredibly excited for him, but your excitement today reached an even higher level by the one who finished first. Oscar just won his second Grand Prix in F1 and you were feeling so incredibly proud.

You were standing at the front of the crowd, engulfing Oscar's mom in a crushing hug, sharing your mutual excitement. You looked up at Oscar climbing out of the car, bumping his fist in the air, cheering enthusiastically.

"God, look at him, finally a win he is allowing himself to enjoy!" you chimed to his mom.

You watched as Oscar ran straight into the arms of his engineers, their shared happiness palpable in the air. The joy between them was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile as you took in the scene.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Charles climbing out of his car in the background, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. Post-race Charles always did things to you that you couldn't quite explain. You wanted to wave, but he seemed busy with his team, so you decided to congratulate him on his podium later.

Your attention shifted back to Oscar just as he approached his mum, pulling her into a warm embrace while carefully avoiding bumping her with his helmet.

"I'm so proud of you, darling!" she cooed, squeezing him a little tighter before they eventually pulled apart.

Oscar removed his helmet and reached up to pull off his balaclava, revealing a blissed-out expression. His smile was radiant, a mix of joy and relief, as if the weight of the race had melted away in that victorious moment.

He caught your eye, and his grin widened. "I did it! I actually did it!" he exclaimed, still sounding like he couldn’t quite believe it.

"You did! You really did!" you gushed, your smile matching his as you shared in his happiness.

Without warning, Oscar launched himself at you, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you over the fence you’d been leaning against. He hugged you tightly, spinning you around as both of you laughed, the sound of your shared joy echoing across the pit lane.

The cameras were all pointed in your direction, capturing the moment. To you and Oscar, it was nothing more than two best friends celebrating a hard-fought victory. But to the outside world, the scene looked far more intimate than it felt.

Charles stood at a distance, watching the moment unfold. His chest tightened as he took in the sight of you and Oscar together, laughter and smiles shared so easily between you. You’d told him there was nothing going on with Oscar, that the two of you were just best friends—but looking at you now, Charles couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

It hurt. It hurt to see you in Oscar’s arms, when he wished so desperately that it was him instead. He felt a wave of frustration, jealousy swirling inside him. Oscar was his friend, someone he genuinely liked, but seeing you together like that made it hard to think straight. The fear that Oscar might steal you away—his girl, even though you weren’t even his—gnawed at him.

“She said there was nothing between them,” he muttered under his breath, trying to convince himself.

Pierre appeared beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I think it’s not what it looks like, mate," he offered, sensing Charles’ mood.

Charles shook his head, frustration still bubbling beneath the surface. "That’s what they always say when they’re denying it," he replied, his voice low. "I know she’s single, and she can do whatever she wants with whoever she wants, but… it just hurts."

Pierre gave him a sympathetic look, but Charles couldn’t shake the feeling. He wanted to punch something, not because he hated Oscar—he liked Oscar—but because seeing you so close to him made him feel like he was losing you, even though you were never his to begin with.

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Later in the day, as the adrenaline from the race began to wear off, you found yourself searching for Charles. You had spent the afternoon immersed in the celebrations with Oscar and the McLaren team, reveling in their victory. Despite the fun, your thoughts kept drifting back to Charles.

Navigating through the bustling paddock, you scanned the area for any sign of him. You wanted to offer your congratulations and express how proud you were, but Charles seemed to have vanished.

When you stepped into the Ferrari motorhome, you were greeted by Carlos. The Spaniard offered you a small, knowing smile. "Hey," he said as he approached you.

"Hey, have you seen Charles?" you asked, absentmindedly twirling a stray strand of hair.

Carlos's smile turned apologetic. "He already left for the hotel. Said something about not feeling up to it today."

Your heart sank a bit. "Oh, I wanted to congratulate him earlier, but I got caught up with the celebrations."

A flicker of realization crossed Carlos's face. "Ah, that explains why he seemed so on edge when he came back here."

Confusion clouded your expression. "What do you mean?"

Carlos’s eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. "I think Charles got a bit unsettled seeing you so close with Oscar instead of him."

You frowned, trying to make sense of it. "Why would he be annoyed? My best friend won the race. Of course I celebrated with him. It's not like I didn't want to celebrate with Charles, it's just that Oscar is my best friend. And he also deserves the attention when he achieves something amazing like this."

Carlos’s smirk widened slightly. "That’s exactly his problem."

You stood there, grappling with the situation, struggling to find the right words. Carlos seemed to sense your confusion and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "Maybe you should talk to him. There might be more going on between you two than you realize."

His words hung in the air, adding a new layer to your thoughts as you considered the possibility of unspoken feelings and misunderstandings.

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"You seemed awfully intimate with Piastri this afternoon, anything unfolding there?" you heard Alex tease on through the phone.

He had called you had texted that you were on the way back to the hotel, something you often did to just gossip and rant about everything that went on.

You rolled your eyes, and huffed "Why does everybody keep saying that. Not even in my wildest dreams, ew" you whined "I know he's good looking, I'm not blind, but the idea of doing something with him revolts me just as much as it revolts him"

The chuckle that Alex let out was audible to you "Well, to be fair, it didn't look like nothing on camera" he started, another chuckle leaving his lips "Have you checked your social media lately? Apparently the camera's catched Charles' reaction to your little moment with Oscar. The video is going quite viral. He is shooting daggers at Oscar, man. The jealousy is literally burning in his eyes"

You sighed "Don't, Alex" you whispered "Don't give me hope"

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You arrived at Charles's hotel room with a mix of anxiety and frustration swirling inside you. His abrupt disappearance after the celebration, coupled with his avoidance of your calls, had left you feeling unsettled and concerned. Your knuckles rapped against the door, the sound echoing in the empty hallway. When Charles finally opened it, his face was a mask of irritation, the tension in his posture unmistakable.

“What’s going on?” you demanded, stepping past him before he could react.

Charles’s eyes were dark with frustration. “Nothing,” he snapped, but the rigidity in his stance and the clenched fists he tried to hide told a different story.

You let out a sigh, frustration bubbling up inside you. “I know you’re lying,” you insisted, moving to sit on the edge of his bed, trying to steady your breathing. “Please, just talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. What did I do?”

Charles stood with his back to you, his breathing shallow and uneven. “Why him?” he finally asked, his voice strained and raw.

Confusion creased your brow. “What are you talking about?”

Charles’s frustration finally erupted. “Why did you celebrate with Oscar and not with me? I finished second. I deserved some attention too.”

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm despite the rising tension. “Oscar’s my best friend too. This win was a big deal for him. I wanted to be there for him. I tried to find you, but you were already gone.”

Charles’s eyes flashed with hurt and jealousy, a dark storm clouding his gaze. “It feels like you care more about him than me. It fucking hurts to see you so close to him, probably even—”

His words struck a nerve, causing irritation to flare within you. “Oscar and I are just friends, Charles.” You stated, your anger bubbled over. “And so what if it was more? Why does it matter to you? I’m not your property. You dont get to decide who I spend time with. You’re my best friend, not my boyfriend.”

Charles’s face flushed with frustration, his voice rising with each word. “Merde, for fuck’s sake, I don’t want to be your best friend!”

His declaration stunned you, a mix of hurt and anger surging within you, causing tears to well up in your eyes. “Well, if you don’t want to be my best friend, I might as well go back to Oscar then. Since, according to you, that’s where I prefer to be. You apparently know me better than I do!”

Without waiting for a response, you turned to leave, but Charles’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a desperate grip. His eyes burned with an intense emotion, a mixture of longing and possessiveness that was almost palpable. Before you could react, he pulled you close, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was both fierce and consuming.

The kiss was rough, charged with pent-up emotions. Charles’s lips moved against yours with an urgent hunger, a reflection of the depth of his feelings. The heat of his body pressed against yours, every touch and caress infused with an intensity that left you breathless. His hands roamed over your curves, claiming you with each possessive stroke. You could feel the undeniable pressure of his arousal pressing against you, intensifying the moment.

He guided you gently back toward the bed, his touch both tender and commanding. Slowly, he lowered you down onto it, his hands caressing your sides with a reverence that spoke of his deep feelings for you. He leaned over you, his breath warm against your skin. “I don’t want to be your best friend,” he said, his voice heavy with desire. “I want to be your boyfriend.”

You were taken aback by his declaration, the words resonating deeply within you. Before you could respond, Charles’s lips were on yours again, kissing you with a fierce passion that left you breathless. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, as he explored your body with a mix of urgency and tenderness.

You moaned softly, the sound escaping your lips as his touch ignited a fire within you. Charles’s arousal was evident, his body pressing against yours in a way that heightened your senses. “Tell me you think about me at night and not him,” he demanded, his voice husky and filled with longing.

The world around you seemed to dissolve as Charles’s touch and kisses overwhelmed your senses. His hands roamed over your body, exploring, caressing, igniting every nerve with a mix of desperation and adoration. His touch was both possessive and tender, his kisses deep and demanding.

“Tell me,” he urged, his voice a low, heated whisper. “Tell me you scream my name when you come and not his.”

You met his intense gaze, your voice breathless and filled with yearning. “Only you, Charles. It has always been you.”

Charles’s eyes darkened with satisfaction, his expression softening slightly as he continued his intimate exploration. He guided your hands to his jeans, his breathing ragged with desire. “Have you ever thought about him like this?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper. “Touched him like this?”

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of defiance and affection. “It’s only you, Charles,” you replied, your voice sultry. “I never saw Oscar that way.”

Charles’s frustration and desire mingled as he felt your touch, his body tensing and his control slipping. He moaned softly, a deep, guttural sound that reflected his overwhelmed state. His hands gripped the edge of the bed for support as you palmed him through his jeans, your touch eliciting a series of desperate groans from him.

Unable to hold back any longer, you undid the button of his jeans and slid your hand inside, taking him in your grasp. Charles gasped, his breathing coming in short, erratic bursts. “F-Fuck,” he whimpered, his voice strained. “That feels so good.” His body tensed and trembled, overwhelmed by the sensation of your touch. “J-Just like that,” he gasped, his voice a desperate, needy growl. “Show me you’re mine. I want you to think about me every time you touch yourself. I hope that after tonight, you can never touch another man without thinking about me.”

You looked at him, your eyes filled with passion. “It’s already been like that for years,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire.

Charles’s gaze softened for a moment, but his need took over. He flipped you back onto the bed with a sudden, urgent intensity. His movements were driven by a deep-seated desire, his lips finding yours again, kissing you with a feverish passion that made your heart race.

As he undressed you, his touch was both deliberate and passionate. He removed the last bits of his clothing with a mix of urgency and tenderness, his hands lingering on your skin, savoring the feel of you beneath him. He paused, looking into your eyes with a mixture of tenderness and desire. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked, his voice a low, heated whisper. “Tell me, do you want this as much as I do?”

You nodded, your voice breathless with anticipation. “Yes, Charles. I want you. I want all of you.”

Charles’s eyes darkened with satisfaction as he positioned himself above you. His hands continued their intimate exploration, his kisses trailing down your neck and shoulders with a mix of urgency and tenderness. Each touch was a declaration of his intense feelings, a blend of passion and possession that left you craving more.

As the intensity of the moment built, Charles’s control wavered. He pulled back slightly, his eyes filled with a mixture of need and desire. “Tell me you’re mine,” he urged, his voice a rough whisper. “I want to hear you say it, mon amour”

You looked at him, your body trembling with desire as he continued to touch and kiss

you. “I’m yours, Charles,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both need and certainty.

Charles’s expression softened into one of profound relief and adoration, but a trace of jealousy lingered in his eyes, his gaze never leaving yours. As he positioned himself between your legs, there was a mixture of tenderness and possessiveness in his touch. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured, his voice filled with deep emotion and a hint of a possessive edge.

With that, he entered you slowly, his movements tender yet unmistakably possessive. His thrusts were gentle and loving, but each one was infused with a sense of claiming, as though he was marking you as his own. His kisses were gentle but urgent, his lips traveling down your neck as he began to suck and nibble, leaving marks that would clearly show his affection and his possessiveness.

You gasped, feeling the intensity of his touch. “Charles, be careful. They will be visible,” you said, your voice a mixture of concern and pleasure.

Charles’s eyes darkened with a mix of satisfaction and jealousy. “That’s the point,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low growl filled with both desire and a possessive undertone. “I want him to see and know that you belong to me. I want him to see what he’s missing, that you’re mine and mine alone.”

His words stirred something deep within you, causing a moan to escape your lips that was loud and unrestrained, a testament to the intense pleasure you were experiencing. Your hand instinctively traveled up to his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled gently but firmly. The sensation of his hair being tugged caused him to shiver, and he let out a deep, guttural moan that reverberated against your skin.

Charles’s reaction was immediate and visceral. He groaned softly, his breath coming in ragged bursts as the pull on his hair heightened his arousal. “Fuck...” he whispered, his voice trembling with both pleasure and disbelief. The feeling of your fingers in his hair only intensified his longing, making him feel as though he were losing control. “Merde… that feels so good,” he muttered, his tone rough and desperate. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

The way you tugged at his hair drove him to new heights of pleasure, his moans growing louder and more fervent as he lost himself in the sensations. Each pull sent a jolt of electricity through him, making his movements more urgent and fervent, as though he were trying to convey just how deeply your touch affected him.

As he continued, his thrusts maintained a balance of gentle passion and possessive claim, his hands gripping you with a mix of tenderness and assertion. The rhythm of his movements was both caring and commanding, a reflection of his deep, conflicted emotions. His kisses left a trail of marks, each one a silent declaration of his fierce, consuming love and possessiveness.

Charles’s eyes lock onto yours, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. “I-I’m so close,” he gasps, his voice strained with the intensity of the moment. The desperate need in his eyes makes your heart race, his body pressing into yours with a fervor that only heightens your own arousal.

You can barely hold back your own pleasure, the sensations coursing through you almost overwhelming. “Me too” you moan, your voice trembling as you inch closer to the edge. “Come for me, Charles,” 

Your encouragement is the final push he needs, and his body reacts instantly. The combination of your words and the electric tension between you drives him over the edge. The urgency in Charles’s movements and the heat of his gaze as tumbles over the edge draws you to the peak of your ecstasy with him.

As the two of you reached the peak of your intimacy, Charles’s moans mingled with your own, creating a symphony of pleasure and connection that echoed through the room. The shared release was an explosion of ecstasy that left you both trembling and gasping, entwined in the aftermath of your union. 

When the world finally settled and the waves of pleasure began to recede, Charles held you close, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he whispered, “God, you have no idea how long I’ve been in love with you.”

You smiled through your own breathless satisfaction, responding softly, “I could say the same to you.”

Charles’s expression softened further as he kissed you tenderly, his hands caressing your skin with a gentleness that spoke of his deep affection. The moment was filled with a profound sense of connection and fulfillment, a testament to the depth of his feelings and the strength of your bond.

masterlist

[ashwhowrites]

eddie munson x cheerleader/popular reader, where the reader keeps asking eddie out on a date but he keeps rejecting them because why would a popular person want to be with him. Anyways, maybe something happened that made him realize that he believes them and would like to go out with them.

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Asking me out?

Y/N recently grew a crush on Eddie, the town's freak. She never saw something in him before, but all it took was one moment for it to change.

It was a Friday night and she was freezing her ass off on the field. But a big fake smile plastered on her face as she did the cheers. She let her eyes wander as the game played, and then she saw Eddie. He stood off to the side smoking a cigarette, she was surprised he wasn't asked to leave. He had one hand in his pocket and his hair was covered with a black beanie. He must have felt her stare because he looked in her direction.

She froze as she couldn't look away, his eyes kept her in a daze. His eyes warmed up her body and she felt her face burn when he winked.

That was all it took, that night she dreamed about it and woke up with the biggest crush she's ever had.

When Monday rolled around she had a skip in her step. She wanted to ask Eddie out, she knew she'd sound crazy with it coming out of nowhere but who cares.

She found him at lunch and walked over to his table. A big smile on her face as she stood in front of him. He was so cute that it made her want to giggle for years. She was shocked that the girls didn't see how attractive he was.

"Can I talk to you?"

His table went silent

Eddie looked at her confused

"Me?" he asked, pointing to himself, her eyes never left him so it was clear who she meant. But he had no idea why.

She grabbed his hand and lifted him from the chair, he looked over at his friends as she pulled him into the hallway. She dropped his hand and turned around to face him

"I'm Y/N," she said as she smiled

"I know," he said, "I mean! I'm Eddie," he stuttered

"I know," she said with a small wink. Eddie wasn't sure if his heart racing was a good or bad thing.

"I saw you at the football game on Friday, and this might sound very forward, but I think you are insanely attractive and I'd love to go out on a date with you, maybe tonight?"

Eddie felt the need to clean his ears because there was no way Y/N, the prettiest cheerleader, asked him out. He stared at her like she had multiple heads, and he had a feeling it coming out of nowhere was a trap. He would love to say "hell yes" but he was tired of being burned by people.

"I can't tonight, I have to babysit," he lied

"That's okay, how about tomorrow?" she asked

"I babysit all week and the weekend. You know, parents have kids but never want to take care of them," he nervously laughed

Y/N felt blown off and had a bad feeling he was lying. She was disappointed but she shrugged it off.

"Have fun, Eddie. Maybe another time," she spoke quietly, far less enthusiastic than before. And that made Eddie feel like shit.

"Yeah, thanks," he said, watching as her shoulders slumped as she walked back into the cafeteria.

~~~

In case he was telling the truth and had to babysit, she tried again for that "another time."

"Hey Eddie, do you want to get a bite to eat after the game?"

"I have to be home right away, I'm sorry"

And then she tried another time, and another, and another. He always seemed to be busy. But she really liked him and she wanted to try one last time.

Eddie was sitting against the school's building as he waited for Wayne to pick him up, his van decided to not start and left him stranded.

Y/N walked over, standing at his feet.

Eddie looked up as a shadow covered him. There she was, beautiful as ever. She made Eddie nervous and he didn't like to be nervous.

"What are you sitting out here for?" she asked, Eddie could feel his stomach flutter when she smiled.

"Van died so waiting for my ride," he shrugged

"I can give you a ride, and as a thank you for it maybe we could get ice cream?" she offered, more shy each time since she knew he'd say no.

"He's already on his way so you don't have to worry about me," he said as he stood up

"What about just ice cream then? I can pick you up." She kept trying and he kept shutting her down

"I'll probably be in the shop with my van, but once it's fixed I should have some free time, I'll find you."

~~~

Eddie arrived in his van a few days later, and he never talked to her. It hurt to admit, but he was never going to say yes and she had to move on.

He found her eyes and quickly looked away, when he looked again she was gone.

A few days passed and she stopped walking up to him. Sometimes they'd make eye contact, and she'd smile and then look away. Anytime she walked in his direction he held his breath, letting it free when she walked passed him.

He missed talking to her, even if it was always two sentences. He liked having her attention but he was scared of what would come after if he said yes. Would a bucket of water be dumped on him? Was it a bet? Would he find himself shoved in a closet and beaten up?

It was a risk he wasn't willing to take.

~~

Eddie was walking to his campaign when he walked passed the gym and heard his name.

He peeked inside to see Y/N and Chrissy stretching. Eddie was a simple guy so he had to take his time looking at Y/N as she sat in her uniform.

"Are you going to try again?" Chrissy asked, her hand stretched out to her feet

"No," Y/N sighed

"What? But you really like him!" Chrissy gasped

"Chris, it's clear he doesn't like me. I can count the amount of times he said no on two hands. I'm done embarrassing myself. It's a crush, I'll get over it," Y/N shrugged

"Yeah, but you haven't liked a guy in a long time! Are you sure you want to give up?"

"I know you are trying to be a good friend, but you won't change my mind. If he liked me, he would make time work in his apparently busy schedule. I'm probably not his type and that's okay." Y/N explained, mostly trying to make herself feel better.

"You're right, but his loss because I know a ton of single guys who have been asking about you!" Chrissy gushed

Eddie was leaning so far that the door opened and he fell right through. He cussed as he landed on his stomach. The fall caught the girl's attention and he blushed in embarrassment.

"Eddie? Oh my are you okay?" Y/N asked, rushing over

Chrissy was behind her, a look of worry on her face

"I'm good," he said through clenched teeth. He moved to his knees and felt soft hands helping him stand up. Once he was on his feet he wanted to run.

"Were you pushed?" Y/N asked, worried he might have been getting picked on.

Eddie couldn't tell which was less embarrassing

"Uh no, I was eavesdropping, and well karma," he said as he brushed his dirty hands against his jeans. Chrissy nodded and backed away, giving them privacy to talk.

"Oh! So you heard all of that, huh?" Y/N asked, groaning in embarrassment

"Yeah and look I'm sorry I kept rejecting you. I wasn't sure if you were serious or not and I was a little scared," Eddie said

"Scared of what? and why would I be lying?" she asked

"You're popular and I've never had a popular girl take interest in me that wasn't for some type of joke. I figured you were asking me out as a joke or to set me up for something. And I'm sorry for assuming, I didn't know you genuinely like me."

"I can understand that. I hope you know that I'd never do something cruel to anyone. I'm not like that," she explained

"And I believe you. I know I kinda had a million shots to go out with you and I fucked them all up. But can I make it up to you?" he asked, hope in his eyes as she smiled

"Are you asking me out, Eddie?" she teased

"I am," he said as he smiled, "What do you say?"

"I think I'm busy for the whole year, sorry," she said, Eddie stood shocked as she turned around and walked away.

He felt his body slump at the rejection, but he guessed he deserved it. He turned around and headed out of the gym.

He made it down the hall when he heard his name being called, he turned around.

"That's for saying no. But I'd love to go out with you," she said as she walked towards him

"I did deserve that," he laughed but walked towards her, "tonight after practice, we can grab that bite to eat?"

"I'll see you then," she said with a smile. She leaned in and pecked his cheek softly.

Eddie blushed as her lips touched his skin

He watched as she walked back to practice, head in the clouds.

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[vivwritesfics]

Life In The Fast Lane

She's an F1 driver stranded in Oklahoma. He's a cowboy storm chaser. What more can I say?

Warnings: Talks of food and restrictive diet

Where are you?

She looked around. God, she hadn't been here in years, not since she moved to Europe with her aunt. The gas station had always been there, but she hardly remembered it. Still, she pulled in to get her bearings, to work out where she was going. 

The gas station wasn't anything to write home about. It needed renovating, rust and rubbish everywhere. The people milling about were on their phones, not paying her any attention. That was weird, the people not knowing who she was. She was a big deal, after all. 

Her car was low key for this trip, inconspicuous. It was the car she'd gotten at seventeen, that she'd had brought over from Europe once her career took off and she was able to visit home more. 

"Somewhere in Oklahoma," she said into the phone as she looked around for some sort of indicator of where exactly in Oklahoma she was. Her GPS wasn't working, broken in both her car and phone. She was utterly lost. 

'You're supposed to be here for media day! 

She knew that, knew she was supposed to be in Texas at that minute. The idea to drive from her parents place in Enid to the track it Texas had seemed like a good idea at the time. But now she was lost, incredibly lost. 

"I'll be there before the first practice," she muttered. "Just cover me for today." 

She put the phone down as the loud, obnoxious music started. She whipped her head around and watched as the red truck pulled into the gas station. There was a guy cheering as he hung out of the window of the truck. 

People flocked to the track, the camper, and the RV behind it. They parked up, turned up the radio, and climbed out to meet their public. 

The driver of the red truck climbed out. On his head was a white cowboy hat, a pair of sunglasses covering his face. He took a sharpie from somebody's hands and started signing everything in sight. Shirts, hats,  anything he could get his hands on. 

He made his way through the crowd, giving out pictures and signing anything until he got her her. "Hey there, darlin'," he said with a charming grin. 

Before she could say anything, he took her hat from her head and decorated it with his signature. 

"What the fuck?" She snatched her hat back from him. His scrawl was now across the brim, name unintelligible to her eye. "Why the fuck would you do that?"

He still wore that stupid, charming grin as he pulled sunglasses away from his eyes. They were pretty, a fact she would later come to realise. For now, she was pissed. "You're telling me you're not a fan?"

Her face was hot as she stared up at him. "Who do you think you are?" She asked, voice low. It wasn't a question, not really. A challenge, one he would have been stupid to take. 

Stupid or clueless. 

But he didn't take the challenge. The man from beside him did. "You're sayin' you haven't heard of Tyler Owens?" He asked and laughed, shaking his head as he walked away. 

They were having too much fun, whoever they were. Placing her hat back on her head, she muttered obscenities as she made her way back back to the car. Even if she knew where she was going, there was no way to navigate around all of the vehicles now filling the gas station. She supposed she had Tyler Owens to thank for that. 

Her head hit the horn and she didn't stop the noise. Eyes were on her. Maybe some of them recognised her. Who was she kidding, everybody was here for Tyler Owens. 

He watched her, too. Still signing shirts and pictures, but he glanced back at her every so often. The only other people he'd met in this sort of setting that hadn't desperately wanted his signature was Storm Par. And Storm Par certainly hadn't reacted like that. 

There was a full minute where the only sound in the gas station was her horn, her head firmly planted in the middle of the steering wheel. Her hat, the one that now held his signature, was gone, tossed into the back somewhere. 

Fuck, he almost felt sorry for her. 

She lifted her head and the noise stopped. Throwing it back, she closed her eyes. She was saying something, but the car around her kept the noise in. 

Signing just a few more pictures, Tyler approached. His boots crunched the gravel beneath his feet and his sunglasses hid any emotion that could have been read on his race. He still wore that grin, the one that made him seem like a cocky asshole. It always would, until he took the glasses off. 

His knuckles tapped lightly on her window. 

She glared at him as she pressed the button to lower the window. "What do you want?" She asked, expression set. 

It was kind of terrifying, but Tyler didn't falter. "Are you okay?" He asked, leaning against the door. 

She raised her eyebrows at him and turned to face forward. No, she wouldn't entertain this. He was a dick, and he wasn't trying to hide it. 

"I can't help you unless you tell me what's wrong."

Good, she didn't want his help. His whole reason for helping was to boost his own ego, she figured. She'd met his kind before, usually had it out with them in some of the fastest vehicles in world. 

Grabbing her cap, she placed it on her head. She couldn't ro up the window, not with the way he was holding it. "I know this area pretty well," he began, leaning forward so that the brim of his obnoxiously large hat was in the car with her. "If you're lost, which, I think you are, I might be able to help."

Taking him up on his offer of help. It would have meant swallowing her pride and accepting the fact that she couldn't do it on her own. "No, thank you." She forced and smile and then looked down at her phone. 

It was late. The sky was already beginning to turn orange and there was no way she was going to reach her destination before the darkness set in. "I'm just gonna find a motel and hunker down for the night." 

She started the engine. "Oh, the nearest motel is-" But she was already winding up her window, not giving him a chance to finish his sentence before she sped off, driving around those in her way with incredible skill. 

A name had been on her hat, Tyler had been looking at it the whole time that they had been talking. It might not have been her name, but there was only one way to find out. 

It took her a little while to find a motel. When she pulled into the parking lot, the red truck and its accompanying vehicles were already there. There he sat, tinkering with the pile of crap on the top of his truck. His eyes followed her car as she  pulled into a parking spot, as far away as she could get from him, grabbed her bags from the back, and marched towards the motel reception. 

He kept watching as she paid for the night, grabbed the key, and marched out of the reception. "See you finally found it," Tyler asked as he grabbed his beer. "Took you long enought, for an F1 driver." He said the last bit so quietly, but she still heard it. 

Stopping in her tracks, she turned back towards him. "What the hell did you just say to me?" 

He nodded towards her hat. "I googled you," he replied. "You're a racer, right?" 

A huff left her lips and she folded her arms over her chest. "You googled me?"

He gave a quick nod and sipped his beer. "You should try googlin' me back at some point." 

The laugh that left her lips was melodic, had a light dusting of pink on Tyler's cheeks. "You actually want me to Google you?" She asked and he gave a quick nod. But then the smile dropped from her face all together "You're fucking creepy," she said and walked away. 

His face was entirely red at that. She turned on her heel and walked away, making her way to her own room. 

The rest of Tyler's group of Storm chasers laughed as they looked at him. Face completely red, eyes following her movements until she locked herself in her motel room. "Tyler has a crush!" Boone sang. His laugh was infectious, had everybody else laughing with him. 

"Shut up, Boone," Tyler mumbled, but he couldn't hide his own smile. She was a tough nut to crack, but he was going to be the one to do it.

***ED TRIGGER WARNING FROM HERE TO THE END***

"Tyler Owens," she mumbled as she typed his name into the search bar of her laptop. Emails popped up on the bottom right hand corner of her screen, but she ignored it. She knew she was supposed to be in Texas, knew she was so close to missing the first practice session. It was fine. If she set off as soon as the sun rose, she would be fine. 

She pressed search and waited for the results to appear. The motel WiFi was shitty, forcing her to wait an age before the results appeared. 

There was his face. He was handsome, but she hated it. His face just invited her fist. That was it: He had a handsome, punchable face. She scrolled down until she got to a link to his YouTube Channel. "What the hell is a Tornado Rangler?" She mumbled and clicked on the video. 

It was a live stream, edited down to a more consumable format. His voice was loud and clear through her speakers, had her scrambling to turn down the volume on her laptop. 

It was actually kind of incredible. She watched as he drove into a tornado, anchored himself down and shot fireworks inside of it. It was stupid and dangerous, but wasn't everything she did stupid and dangerous? 

She hated that she was impressed. 

As soon as the knock came at her door, she slammed down the lid of her laptop and scrambled off of the bed. Her feet were half in her shoes as she made her way to the door and looked through the peep hole. 

The groan that left her lips was audible, loud enough for him to hear through the door. But he didn't back away like she hoped. Reluctantly, she pulled open the door. "What do you want, Owens?" 

He had expected her to be cold, indifferent towards him. But she just sounded so tired, so defeated. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Tyler opened the box in his hands. 

A pizza box. She hadn't even seen it when she opened the door. It smelled like shit. Not literal shit, no, it smelt good. But it smelt like food she shouldn't be eaten on a race weekend. 

"I brought a peace offering," he said, waving it around slightly. God, it was mouthwatering. That cheese looked like that stringy stuff that made the slice never ending. 

She swallowed, which was the wrong move. The smell was inside of her, begging her to grab a slice and just taste it. 'C'mon', the voice in the back of her head said. 'Just a bite. You won't make it to Cota for the race, anyway'. 

She shook her head, as if that would banish the voice, and blinked. "You know I can't eat this stuff, right?" 

Tyler looked at the pizza, and back at her. She didn't just sound tired and defeated, she looked it, too. But he let that charming, handsome, punchable grin cross his face. "C'mon, you don't have to have all of it. We can share." 

"Generous." She rolled her eyes.

But he just looked so... not pathetic. That wasn't the word she was looking for. But he looked like a kicked puppy who just wanted her comfort.

With another groan, she stepped to the side and let him in. 

My darlings, do we have another series on our hands?

[kingofthecotas]

find tomorrow with you

5 times valentino suggests they get married and 1 time marc does | 2.4k words

5+1 is a fun and whimsical format that we should use more often

–––

i. 

It’s not the first time Marc has been to Tavullia since Valentino decided his life was infinitely better when they spoke—and, indeed, fucked—but today is the first time he truly seems comfortable. 

Pecco being here is helping, helping soothe the agitation that is all Bez’s, helping to be a friendly face—and Luca, if he weren’t finding it all so funny, would be helping as well. Marc is smiling, talking, laughing—and he isn’t dragging his feet as they all get ready to ride. That’s the crux of it, the load-bearing pillar that crumbled their first time around. 

Not this time. They won’t let it. 

(Not ever again, Valentino won’t let that happen ever again. He won’t do that to Marc ever again.)

It’s never polite when they race at the ranch. It’s animalistic, all friendship abandoned at the archway that marks the start of the track, screeching under helmets as they tear around corners and dive into the side of opponents. No quarter. No prisoners. 

Naturally, Marc, now he’s comfortable, is perfectly suited to this kind of all-out warfare. 

(He’s terrifying. Valentino is entranced. He loves him.) 

It happens after about an hour, all of them hot and tired but no one willing to throw a white flag. Marc goes for the lead, throws it up the inside of Bez, and outbrakes himself. He skids to the edge of the track, where his front tyre finally surrenders, and he’s sliding through dirt, one leg dragged with the bike.  

Even over the growl of two-stroke engines, Valentino can hear Bez’s, “Oh shit.” 

He pulls to the side of the track, kicks the peg-stand down with a practiced ease that covers his panic, because Marc is staggering away from under his bike, is collapsing on his back, shoulders shaking, and what if he’s hurt—?

“Marc?” 

Marc is cackling like a maniac, leathers dusted white, one hand over the part of his helmet where his forehead would be—even Bez can’t stop himself laughing in return. 

Valentino kneels beside him, pushes his visor up. Then he pushes Marc’s open, too.

“You idiot,” he says, slow and deliberate, yet without sting. 

Marc laughs harder. “That was fun!”

Valentino leans down, helmets almost touching. “I am going to divorce you.”

Bez chokes on his giggle.

Marc doesn’t miss a beat, eyes still smiling at Vale through his visor. “You have to marry me to do that.” 

“I will marry you,” Valentino agrees, “and then I will divorce you.” 

Marc laughs again. 

——

ii.

Valentino’s phone alarm goes off at 5:45, fifteen minutes to spare before lights out, and he stifles a groan, rolls away from Marc. Marc does not appreciate being woken up before seven on a Sunday. 

(He knows that. He loves that he knows that.) 

Qualifying had been hairy, drizzling but not completely wet. It should be a dry race, though, and he settles himself on the sofa downstairs just in time for the broadcast to start scrolling through the starting grid. Kimi had done well, and he smiles.

There’s a noise in the doorway: Marc, a hoodie thrown over his bare chest, eyes heavy.

“Good morning,” Valentino says, raspy. “Did I wake you up?”

“Who has a race at this time?” Marc grumbles. 

“They are in Japan,” Valentino says, and lets Marc crawl into the space next to him, tired and clumsy with it. “Now you know what it is like when I am watching you in Japan, or Malaysia, or Australia.”

Marc groans in the back of his throat.

“You could go back to bed.”

“You’re not there.” Unfocused eyes peering over the top of his hoodie, Marc glares at the screen, seemingly unaware that he’s just curled something warm and tender around Valentino’s ribs. “Who are we cheering for?”

“Ah, your friend Carlos managed only twelfth. It is Piastri and Verstappen at the front—Kimi is there in fourth, you see? And the Ferraris in fifth and sixth—always we want them to do well. Lando had a penalty, so he is seventh, but the McLaren should be fast here.”

They’re pulling away for the formation lap, weaving to warm their tyres. Marc watches, focused as ever, until he yawns. Valentino shushes him. 

“They are not even racing,” 

“They are explaining the strategy.”

Lights out. Clean start. Marc is watching more intently now, undivided attention, check pressed against Valentino’s arm.

Ten laps in, Gasly dives down the inside of Ocon, and they’re both spinning off into grass and gravel; embarrassing but harmless, enough to bring out the safety car. Valentino pulls himself free and goes to make coffee. 

Marc is barely visible beneath the throw when he returns, dark eyes glaring balefully at the television like it’s offended him personally, but he softens when Valentino hands him a mug.

“You are the best,” he mumbles, then, “At making coffee.”

Valentino laughs—once, he might have bristled at the harmless joke—and slides back into his spot between Marc and the sofa arm. Marc thumps his head down, somehow burying himself even deeper in his swaddling of blanket and hoodie and Valentino. 

It’s—it’s something they never would have imagined, even two years ago. It’s gentle, early Sunday mornings wrapped around each other; the kind of softness that shouldn’t be possible after years of tearing each other apart, digging in fingers and pulling until they drew blood. 

Valentino doesn’t ever want to go there again. He doesn’t ever want to lose this. 

Marc is breathing softly against his arm, still, quiet, perfect. 

“I want to marry you,” he murmurs.

Silence. His stomach drops. 

Marc’s inhale catches in the back of his throat, halfway to a snore, and Valentino laughs, gentle so he doesn’t wake him. He plucks the coffee cup, dangling precariously, from slack fingers, and places it on the side table. 

——

iii.

They’ve created a routine over the past few months.

(Valentino’s stomach jumps every time he thinks about it, thinks about how they’re falling into habits, into familiarity. Every time, he smiles.) 

It’s their last day together for a while: Marc is leaving later, and Valentino flies early in the morning to get to his GT race. But the routine doesn’t change. He’s making lunch for them. Marc is upstairs—his phone had rung, insistent, and he’d groaned but pulled away, leaving Valentino to chop the rest of their salad. 

Marc emerges after nearly twenty-five minutes, eyebrows pinched together, but accepts the plate Valentino slides towards him with a distracted smile.

“Everything okay?” Valentino asks.

“Ah, my accountant.” Marc scowls. “Apparently I am spending too much time in Italy.” 

Valentino can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of his chest. 

“It’s not funny,” Marc says, almost whines. “It’s a tax thing. Between all the time I spend here, and time at the factory—not enough in Spain, apparently.”

Shrugging, Valentino taps one finger on the table. “We could get married.” 

Marc snorts. “Would that help?”

“I don’t know. I am very bad to ask about tax advice, remember?”

“Me too.” Marc stabs a piece of his salad—viciously, in Valentino’s opinion. 

“Don’t frown. It will be okay.”

“I can hide here. It is difficult for you to be in Madrid.”

“It will be okay,” Valentino repeats. “And remember, we can always get married.”

He thinks he deserves it when Marc throws a slice of bread at him. 

——

iv.

Clouds hang heavy on the mountains in Spielberg, threatening rain but holding off for now. Valentino leaves Luca with a last pat on the shoulder, weaving his way up the grid towards Franky’s starting spot.

It’s slow going, stopped every few steps, shaking hands with people he recognises, people he doesn’t.

“Valentino—Valentino!”

It’s Laverty, and Valentino doesn’t mind that because he doesn’t tend to ask stupid questions. He indulges the interview, long past acceptance of the fact that he built his own mythos and will never be left alone for the rest of his life. Yes, he’s doing well, thank you. Yes, it’s nice to be on the grid. Yes, he’s proud of his boys. Yes, he’s still enjoying racing with BMW. 

“And a final question,” Michael says. “You seem like you and Marc Márquez have finally buried the hatchet. Is everything put to bed? How did you manage it?”

Maybe Michael Laverty does ask stupid questions. 

Perhaps he should have been expecting it, because clasping hands before a race, sharing a smile under the podium—people notice. Especially when the norm used to be nothing at all, or worse.

“Ah, you know.” He has plenty of shields for the media, and it’s no problem to pull out an old favourite. “We talked. Dinner with candles. It is all going very well. Maybe soon we get married.” 

Michael laughs, loud and boisterous, like Vale hasn’t just wrapped up the truth in a pretty package and presented it as a joke. He smiles, camera-easy, and returns Michael’s ciao. 

It’s only when he turns around that he realises Álex and Bez, lined up side-by-side on the grid, are staring at him. 

——

v. 

Misano is hot, sweltering August-end heat. Valentino is sweating under his cap and sunglasses, pressed in a red throng of Ducati engineers. One-two. Red on red. 

It’s Marc who’d won, victorious in the battle of weaving-turning-diving along long straights and through heavy-brake corners. Pecco had given him a good fight, an Italian classic of a race; he’s smiling at Marc, learning to enjoy the scrappy thrill of battle as well as the ease of a flawless win. 

Marc’s shining, beaming at his team, smiling down the cameras, alive under the sun. Valentino swallows down the urge to kiss him, if only because their comms officers would kill them both. 

The podium has never seemed so long. Media obligations have never seemed so long. It’s an age before they’re alone, motorhome door locked, and Valentino has Marc, to himself, finally.

He used to think Marc was too much for him, in danger of eclipsing him, their implosion inevitable as two brilliant stars orbited closer, closer, too close. Too much light for the world to handle.

If he met that version of himself now, Valentino thinks he would shake him. 

Marc glows, yes, but there’s a brightness that only Valentino gets to see, one that erupts out in starbursts of ecstasy when they’re together, when Valentino is pushing inside him, when Marc is staring up at him like there’s nothing else in the world. 

Valentino stops, earning a petulant glare; even that’s breathtaking. How—how—he can’t find the words.

“I think,” Valentino forces out, elbows taking his weight, “I want to marry you.”

Marc blinks, face suddenly cutting, incredulous. “You are telling me this now?” He’s a livewire, crackling with sparks, hot with triumph, shooting static through Valentino’s skin. He’s beautiful. Valentino wants to see this for the rest of his life, so yeah, he’s saying it now. 

He tilts his hips, and the disbelief is gone, washed away as Marc gasps. It’s something like reverence now—but not how it used to be. Nothing that Valentino could shatter this time, even though he still wants to hold it close. 

Contrary as always, Marc winds fingers through his hair, pulls him down for a breathless kiss—and Valentino smiles into it, because he can do this, he can have this effect on Marc, still. Still. 

“Vale—” 

He’s helpless when it’s Marc. Still. Always. 

When they’re finished, when they’re lying curled into each other, Valentino breathing heavy into Marc’s hair, Marc looks up, eyes narrowed. 

“You did well today,” Valentino tells him softly, and the hard expression is gone once again, replaced with a different kind of wonder. 

“Did you mean it?”

He knows what Marc means. “Yes.”

Marc nods. “Ask me again. Another time.”

It’s—Valentino smiles again. “That was not a no.” 

——

+1 

It’s not a bad crash—it’s not, not by the metrics of this sport, not compared to what it could have been, what it has been in the past. 

It’s not bad, but it could have been: Marc, bumped wide by Acosta, unable to save it, sliding helplessly through the corner apex—and Bez, unsighted, trying to avoid the recovering KTM, sailing past his braking point towards Marc, and almost—almost. 

It’s not bad, but it was close, and when Marc is back in the paddock, when he’s speaking to cameras, when he’s with his engineers, there’s something wild about him, something faraway sitting behind his eyes, and Valentino knows. He knows.  

(He still dreams, sometimes, of Austria; not of the crash, but the feeling of it, the prickle at the back of his skull, the cold finger-brush of something not right. The almost that he didn’t see coming.) 

So he waits. Marc is settled enough, trusts him enough, to reach for him when he needs him. Valentino trusts Marc enough to let him. 

The knock on his motorhome door comes long after the chequered flag has fallen. Valentino doesn’t get up, knows Marc will let himself in.

“Sorry. Pedro wanted to talk—I am not angry, but good he apologised.”

“That’s okay,” Valentino says, gentle. 

Marc drifts, loose, unmoored, towards the sofa, folds his legs underneath him, presses into Valentino’s space. Valentino lets him, waits for him to speak.

Marc is shaking. Not a lot, just enough for Valentino to notice when he takes his hand.

“Okay?”

He’s not, of course he’s not, but it’s a door nudged ajar, an opening if Marc wants to take it.

“That was—close.”

“Yeah.”

“I was—watching the bike.” Marc swallows. “Just—that was all I could do. Watch it coming towards me.” 

Valentino pulls their joined hands up, presses a kiss to the back of Marc’s. 

Marc’s next exhale trembles in the space between them. 

“You’re okay.” 

“If Bez didn’t turn—” 

If. Almost. “You’re okay,” Valentino says again, because he needs to hear it himself. Marc’s fingers clench in his. “Okay? Look, you are holding my hand. You’re okay.”

It won’t be long before Marc is through this, before he’s smiling, before he’s raring to climb on his bike again. Not yet, though. Valentino knows—he knows.

“We should get married,” Marc says abruptly.

“I have been saying—”

“Seriously.”

Valentino takes him in: pinched eyebrows; hair flattened from his Ducati cap; pursed lips. “I think I am offended, that you only ask me after today.”

Marc pulls his hand away, the laugh jolting out of him. “Valentino—”

“And you are asking me in a motorhome—really, I would have taken my hoodie off at least—”

“Vale,” Marc groans, but he’s there, he’s smiling, he’s back. 

He can’t stop a smile twitching the corners of his lips in return. “Yes?” 

“That was not a no.” 

Valentino takes his hand again.

[ohbabydollie]

Teacher Schlatt BUT also the coach of the baseball team

Reader would always bring the best snacks for the team. Treat them to food or ice cream whether they win or lose

Schlatt shows off his skills in front of his partner whenever he has the chance. Whenever the players make fun of him for it, he adds an extra lap for their warm up

- 💌 anon

You love the team like your own mini family

You’re like the fun parent of the team and Schlatt is the strict parent

When you have the free time to go to the practices Schlatt takes the chance to show off infront of you

It annoys the team to no end and they always take the chance to embarrass him (which occasionally works if they’ve been slacking and Schlatt thought to go easy on them)

So he makes them run extra laps the following practice if they succeed in humiliating him

the players tease him, making kissy sounds and asking if they’re gonna practice or if he’s going to be showing off the entire time

You always bring them snacks and drinks after practice if you weren’t there during

If they spot you before Schlatt does, it’s immediately “ohhh Mr. Schlattttt, here comes your little loverr” followed by a chorus of oooooos

If you end up calling him during practice, he’s tries to stay as quiet as possible, moving away from them and covering his mouth as he mutters into the phone before someone calls him out on it

“IS THAT MISS/MISTER L/N, CAN WE SAY HI?”

He says no and tells them to go warm up instead, queue 15 minutes later, after nonstop whining and begging he lets them go in a line greeting you

You always attend games!!

On schlatt’s arm as you cheer on your team, win or lose

Getting them ice cream after if they’re home games

Faraway games, you’re traveling with a bunch of teenagers and your boyfriend on a small school bus

even though Schlatt insisted you could just meet them there, but you said it would be the same

Hyping up the team as you’re getting there

You even made them a playlist and little goodie bags for the team

Schlatt says you don’t have to do it, but you do it anyways

Schlatt always tells them that he’ll get them something quick and cheap for dinner on away games but without a fail, they end up being treated to a nice dinner and dessert

If the team sees you going to pay for it, they start dogging on Schlatt for it

Schlatt’s wallet suffers for it

he’s not going to let his ego be crushed by kids half way through puberty

Win or lose, you’re always there for them

Ik I haven’t posted in a while, I’m sorry 😞😞

[jacarandaaaas]

What you hate about each Encanto character and what you love about each Encanto character?

oh this is such a fun ask! a hard question as I love all the madrigals and the fact they’re so flawed makes them more fun to follow!

alma: i love her commitment, how she vowed to protect all these people even sacrificing her own needs to provide for others, how she promised these people a place of refudge and was always there to provide.

dislike: An obvious one here but I dislike how controlling alma can be, how her need for perfection can blind her and lead her to disregarding her own families feelings as well as her own! Her generally dismissing a lot of the problems of her family like telling pepa to control her emotions or not realizing how hurtful her comments are to mirabel.

pepa: i love how emotional she is! when pepa loves she loves with her entire heart she pours her all into every interaction and she wears her heart on her sleeve! she’s so compassionate! pepa truly is an open book and I love her for it!

dislike: i would probably say how she can get irrational very quickly and cause situations to elevate fast! Although I really can’t blame her for this based on the circumstances!

julieta: i always describe julieta as warm and i feel like no other word can capture her comforting nature and gentleness. I just love her warmth and her soothing energy!

dislike: I would say how she tends to coddle mirabel a lot. I know it comes from a place of love but you can see it doesn’t help mirabel and only makes her feel more insecure because julieta doesn’t understand her.

bruno: for bruno I would say I love how selfless he is. It’s a big thing to sacrifice your own sanity like that for someone else and it’s touching how much he truly cares about mirabel to want to protect her like that.

dislike: i would have to say how he’s timid a lot of the time. It’s sad to see him become so resigned and almost accept his fate and stay in the walls possibly forever. He had no fight left in him.

felix: I adore how felix is just the epitome of life of the party! he’s so uplifting and I love how he never gives out to pepa for her emotions. He’s the best at cheering people up and a sunshine in everyone’s lives!

dislike: about felix? that’s hard to say I feel like we don’t see enough of him for me to really base my answer on anything so I’m just gonna say how he told pepa about the vision at dinner😭 dude that was the worst idea!!

agustín: i love how supportive he is! He continuously supports julieta he runs after luisa when she’s upset and he promises mirabel he would hide the vision to protect her! the fact both he and julieta tried to go after her when she ran for the candle too! He also fiercely stands up for mirabel in such an iconic way and he doesn’t back down!

dislike: I would have to say how he can often hammer in the fact he is also unexceptional to try relate to mirabel but it makes the situation worse.

isabela: I love how loyal isa is. She was doing everything for the sake of the family and was willing to sign her entire life away just to keep them happy. Her loyalty knows no limits and I just feel it’s such a defining trait for her.

dislike: probably how smug she can be at times a key example being the apologize scene! it is funny but it’s also infuriating how smug she was making mirabel apologize for something she didn’t even do. Also how she tells mirabel to shut up and her general rude remarks to her!

dolores: for dolores I would say I love how attentive she is! small scene but how she immediately notices alma needs help and goes to offer her support! She notices the small details even without her super hearing! Like how she points out how mariano talks loud even though she hears everyone’s voice his always stuck out to her <3

dislike: probably how she blurts stuff out without thinking it through! like we know she was trying to be helpful when she told the kids mirabel doesn’t have a gift but she didn’t consider how mirabel would feel about that.

luisa: I love how kind luisa is! she was always willing to lend a hand to the people who need her even when they absolutely could deal with a lot of issues themselves! She’s also very sensitive and soft and I love when she allows herself to be vulnerable!

dislike: this might be unexpected but for dislike i would have to say how she kept ignoring mirabel when she wanted to talk. I understand she was stressed and mirabels being irritating but she could atleast look at her, mirabels already ignored a lot already and all she wanted was to talk to her sister about an issue.

camilo: like how mirabel says in the opening song I love how camilo won’t stop until he makes people smile! whether it be through his humor or his compassion I get the impression he would always be there for people. the scene where he comforts pepa is such a key example of this!

dislike: he can be a bit too blunt at times where it’s definitely not called for! he also has a tendency to exaggerate the truth for dramatic effect!

mirabel: have always said this and always will mirabels core trait is her empathy! Her ability to see others perspectives and empathize with them is so important! I always think of the “I need you” scene as a key example of this. She put aside her own feelings and focused on supporting antonio making sure he’s ok! how when she learns of the other madrigals struggles she tries her best to help them or comfort them! empathy is such a strong defining trait for her!

dislike: when it comes to mirabels negative traits I would have to say her stubbornness is the most prominent. the entire scene in isabelas room is proof of this she would have rathered let that house collapse than apologize or even listen to isabelas struggles the fact she was supportive and empathic to everyone’s issues but isas (at first) she was too stubborn to put aside her issues with isa! but also her recklessness and impulsiveness tie into this as well.

antonio: I love everything about him he’s so sweet and caring and I love how he returns the support mirabel gave to him! he always believed in her and was her biggest supporter and best friend! also how offered his plushie to comfort bruno when he was nervous! antonio is just such a caring kid!

dislike: nothing literally nothing how can u dislike this baby?

[accio-sriracha]

The Time Remus Lupin Got Drunk.

A Wolfstar Oneshot.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The Marauders were going to a party. Usually the way things go down is quite simple:

Sirius gets drunk first, the lightweight of the group who always drinks too much too fast and literally will not shut up for the rest of the night.

Next is Peter, who doesn't drink nearly as much as Sirius, but isn't very good at holding his liquor if we're being honest. He'll spend most of the party on the floor playing chess or in the bathroom throwing up. No in between.

James stumbles after him in third place, definitely not a lightweight but somehow always slamming down enough shots of firewhiskey to do the job. He spends a good percentage of his time trying to get Lily Evans' attention.

(Somehow even drunk he's still a perfect gentlemen and knows his boundaries. *cough, cough* it's not that hard *cough, cough*)

Remus has never gotten drunk in his life, except for once at the beginning of seventh year, but we don't talk about that.

He will spend the majority of the party babysitting his friends: bringing Peter water and crackers, telling Sirius that no, it's not a good idea to visit McGonagall right now, and asking James to please find his shirt, she's not any more impressed by his abs now than she was six years ago.

Today, however, was going to be different.

You see, the Marauders had a plan, a plan like none they'd ever come up with before.

Today: Sirius, Peter, and James were not going to get drunk.

Remus was.

Most of the reason Remus never got drunk in the past was simply because it was a hard feat to accomplish. Partly because Remus had a pretty high tolerance for alcohol, and partly because of the whole werewolf thing.

He would have to drink a lot of firewhiskey to get to the point of slurring his speech.

And the second reason was Remus' refusal of being unaware of his surroundings in public. He felt too vulnerable, it didn't feel safe.

He made a joke on the way to the party they were going to tonight that he would only agree to get drunk if the others agreed to stay sober.

Obviously he hadn't been expecting them to actually agree.

But for whatever reason, his friends were far too eager to see him drunk.

So in they went, mixing into the crowd awkwardly, with Remus huddled between them all like a very tall child.

"Here." James filled a red cup with firewhiskey and passed it to him, "We should get started early, this will probably take a while."

Remus let out a resigned breath and accepted the cup from him, downing the liquid in one go. He cringed at the taste,

"I don't know why people insist on doing this. I don't see how this is pleasant at all."

Sirius shrugged, "It's fun? Takes your mind off things for a little while."

"Obviously not the case for somebody." Peter snickered, nodding his head towards James, "All he can ever think about is Evans, drunk or not."

"Hey!" James called, picking up a cup and pretending to toss it at him. Peter squeaked and jerked out of the way.

Remus snagged the cup away from him, "And you expect me to trust you lot to take care of me?"

James rolled his eyes, "Obviously we'll take this seriously, Moony."

Sirius nodded, "Especially me." He agreed solemnly. James scowled at him and turned back to Remus with an earnest expression,

"If you don't want to, we really won't force you, Moons. I know you don't like feeling vulnerable. Everything is your decision here."

Remus sighed, "It's alright, one night won't kill anyone... hopefully."

And you know... the whole werewolf thing.

If he was being honest, of course he trusted them to take care of him. They'd been doing it every month since third year.

The only issue was his filter, or rather, his lack of one.

After his second cup Sirius grabbed his free hand and dragged him over to the center of the room, "Drunk enough to dance yet?" He asked, raising his voice over the music.

"There isn't enough alcohol in the world." Remus called back.

"You don't know that. Drink up." James cheered, a cup held out to Remus.

Merlin he was going to be drinking a lot of alcohol tonight.

He turned back to face Sirius,

"So this really doesn't bother you? All the noise and the people?" He asked. Sirius shook his head,

"Not normally. I always have you guys with me, and sometimes it helps being surrounded by all this. I'd rather be too busy to think than sitting alone in silence, y'know?"

Remus nodded, he knew Sirius hated silence more than anything.

James switched out his cup again, "Alright, Moons, another round down."

"What is this, four in five minutes? You trying to kill me, Prongs?" Remus muttered, drinking it anyways.

"Mate... That's fucking terrifying." Sirius replied.

James laughed, "I have much subtler ways of doing that, Moony, don't you worry."

"Is this gonna be a long night or what?" Peter said. They all nodded in agreement.

"Hey, why don't we speed this up a little?" James asked, tapping the wand in his pocket. Remus' eyes shot wide open,

"No. Absolutely not. Do you remember what happened to Sirius last time you used that spell?"

James waved a hand, "Oh, that was nothing. He's always like that."

"He bawled his eyes out and tried to kiss a suit of armor." Peter raised an eyebrow, "Even drunk he's got a bit more dignity than that."

"Yeah but he's also like horrible at drinking. Maybe it'll work better with Moony since he's got a better tolerance."

"Hey!" Sirius pouted, "I can drink just fine, thank you."

James snorted, "Whatever you say, mate."

Remus ignored them,

"I don't know, Prongs. I'm not really sure. It's a little... experimental, don't you think?"

"What about us isn't experimental?" James countered, "You know how many charms laws we broke making that fucking map?"

Peter shook his head, "No, c'mon man. Don't make Moony your test dummy. It's his second time drinking. We'll try it out some other time."

James shrugged and waited for him to drink before giving him a new one, "Your loss. Now you're stuck filling your cup all night."

Remus downed it again, looking bored, "You know what, you're right. I'll be over at the drink table. I should probably stick closer to the source, yeah? Let me know if you need anything." He told them, walking awkwardly through the crowd.

"Hey Alice." Remus smiled, when he finally reached the table, resigned to drink until he began to feel the 'buzz' the others kept referring to, "How's everything going?"

"Not bad, you?"

He shrugged, filling his cup, "I suppose I could be worse."

"Are you... drinking?" She asked incredulously, "I've never seen you drink before."

He sighed, "Yeah, and you probably won't ever see it again."

"Someone feeling a little dangerous today?" She teased. He tipped back his cup, wrinkling his nose at the heat that settled uncomfortably in his chest,

"Hopefully not."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the people around them.

"Where's Lily? Did she come?" He asked, Alice nodded,

"I don't actually know where she and Regulus went, but I know I saw them earlier."

"Wait, Regulus and Lily?" He questioned, "I didn't know they hung out."

She gave him a vague shrug,

"Yeah, none of us really know him that well, just you guys and Sirius. But he and Lily have this thing where they always sit next to each other at parties, they try to keep each other in check. Nerd stuff, I guess."

"Huh..." Remus took one last drink before standing up from his seat, "I've gotta go, thanks for the chat."

She nodded, "Yeah, see you around."

While Remus was busy being a wallflower, James and Sirius made their way to the other side of the room. Sirius grabbed Regulus' attention and waved him over,

"Hey, Reg. Bigger turn out than usual, right?" He asked. Regulus nodded,

"Yeah, there's hardly anywhere to sit anymore." He looked around for a second, "Your friend throw up yet?"

Sirius laughed, "No, Pete's fine. We're actually staying sober today."

Regulus rose an eyebrow at them both, "I find that very hard to believe."

"Hey, Regulus." James smiled.

"Potter." He nodded curtly.

James pouted, "Don't I get a warmer greeting? We've known each other for years now."

"Maybe you will in a few more years." He replied smoothly, taking another leisurely sip, "How's the courting coming along? Sing any songs to her yet?"

James looked confused, "Who?"

"You know, the love of your life."

His face went a deep shade of red, "What?"

"Evans?" Regulus was amused now, "Salazar, Potter. Seriously, how much have you had?"

"None." Sirius frowned, turning to face him, "What's up with you, mate?"

James only shook his head, "I've gotta go."

The pair watched him dissappear quickly into the crowd.

"The hell was that about?" Regulus asked.

"I've got no clue." Sirius rubbed his forehead, "But it's definitely weird."

"Pete." Remus sighed when he found him, tapping his arm to get his attention, "Come here, I have to ask you about something."

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Remus was weaving his way through people again, trying to keep his drink from spilling as he was bumped around.

They walked to the far corner of the common room. Peter looked concerned,

"Are you alright?"

"It's about Prongs." He started, keeping his voice low so the music would drown them out.

"Prongs?" He repeated, "What's wrong, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, he's fine. It's just-" He glanced around to make sure nobody was listening, "Do you ever think he acts a bit... strange at parties?"

Peter snorted, "You mean when he's drunk? Yeah, I'd say he's a little different than normal."

"No, I mean like- we've seen him drunk before, right? He isn't usually so over the top when it's just the four of us."

Peter nodded slowly, "Right."

"But when he's here, he gets all weird."

"Well yeah, because he's trying to impress Evans."

"But isn't it strange that he stopped hitting on her around the castle years ago but still hits on her when he's at parties?"

"Alcohol destroys your filter, man. Maybe he's just really good at pretending to not care."

"Or it's something else."

Peter watched him for a moment, a sudden suspicion in his eyes, "Are you drunk?"

"What? No, Peter, listen-"

"Hey, what's all the whispering about?" Sirius asked, walking up with James and Regulus on either side of him. James' face was red.

"I think Moons is getting a little tipsy." Peter laughed. Remus rolled his eyes,

"Shut up, Wormtail."

"Seems perfectly normal to me." Regulus joked, "Sarcastic as always."

"Remus isn't sarcastic when he's drunk." Sirius offered, "When I saw him he was-"

Remus shot him a look and Sirius stopped talking immediately.

"You never did tell us what happened." Peter said, glancing between them.

"And we won't." Remus cut in before Sirius had the chance, "That's between Lily, Sirius, and I."

"Wait Evans was there too? I thought it was just you and Padfoot when you got drunk?" James asked. Sirius' eyes widened,

"Maybe it's best if we drop the subject, yeah?" He gave Remus a pointed look.

"Why won't you say what happened?" Regulus asked, curious himself now as he looked to his brother.

Remus swallowed hard, clearly uncomfortable. Sirius cleared his throat,

"Finish your drink, I want to dance."

"So commanding." Remus grumbled, even as he lifted it to his lips without hesitation.

Sirius stepped up close and placed a finger underneath the cup, meeting Remus' eyes as he tipped it back.

Remus was... well let's just say he was a little more awake now than he was a moment ago, his entire body humming with electricity at the look in Sirius' eyes.

He finished the drink, throwing the cup onto the floor,

"Fine." He took Sirius' arm and dragged him back into the crowd of people.

"What the fuck just happened?" Peter laughed. James shrugged,

"It's them, when do we ever know what's going on?"

Sirius stopped when they reached the center. Remus rose an eyebrow,

"So...?" He started.

"Yeah." Sirius laughed softly. He wrapped his arms around Remus' neck, like you would if you were slow dancing. The song was the exact opposite tempo, but neither of them really cared enough to notice.

"I'm not upset about what happened that night." Remus told him as his hands wound around Sirius' waist, "I know I made a big thing about it, but I don't blame you."

Sirius' head was shaking before Remus even finished his sentence, "It was your first time drinking, Moons. I should have been more aware of what was going on."

"I told you I'm not upset." Remus protested.

"I know, I just don't believe you."

"Would you like me to get Lily? She'll be glad to tell you every thought I shared with her about it."

Sirius cringed, "Merlin, no thanks. I'd honestly rather die than rehash that with Evans again."

"It wasn't that terrible."

"Says you! You didn't do what I did!" He laughed.

"Well nobody forced you to do what you did either!"

"It was kind of implied." Sirius gave him a sly smile.

Remus scoffed, "Okay, first of all-"

"No, no, no! You cannot deny that. You would never have done it." He cut him off.

Remus sighed, "Fine... Maybe you're right."

"Maybe?" He raised an eyebrow. Remus laughed,

"Okay, you're absolutely right. I would never have done that. You have my gratitude for taking one for the team."

Suddenly he was smiling again, "It wasn't that terrible." He mimicked.

"You want me to tell her you said that?" Remus asked, pretending to pull away to go find her.

"Don't you dare!" Sirius laughed as he jerked him back into the embrace, making them press fully against each other on accident.

"Oh." Remus whispered. Sirius took in a sharp breath,

"Oh." He repeated.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Over by the drinks table James, Peter, and Regulus were still talking.

Peter was stuck between watching Sirius and Remus, and watching Regulus and James.

He couldn't deny it now, James was weird at parties. Even though he wasn't drunk like he normally was, Peter could still hear that tone in his voice, see the look in his eyes that meant he was totally and completely whipped.

Only... Lily Evans wasn't anywhere around.

He glanced back at Remus and Sirius to find something had shifted dramatically in the few seconds he'd looked away.

They stood, holding each other tightly, staring into each other's eyes. Peter could feel the tension from across the room. He felt his own eyes widen quickly looked away to give them privacy, accidentally staring at Lily Evans instead.

"Hey, I'll be right back." He told James and Regulus, who were currently in a heated argument about the best quidditch play from the world cup this year.

Neither of them replied so he just walked away, coming up to sit down beside her.

"Hey, Wormy." She smiled. He smiled back,

"Hey, Evans. This is a great party."

She chuckled, "Yeah, it's interesting to see you actually a part of it."

"Hey, my chess games were top notch." He laughed. She bumped their shoulders together,

"And so were your bathroom hogging skills."

"Touché."

She glanced towards Sirius and Remus,

"Do you see them?" She asked quietly.

"Yeah, I was watching them earlier. It's a good thing, right?"

"Yeah. They deserve to be happy."

"You think they'll make each other happy?" He asked, a little hopeful.

She nodded, her voice was certain, "I do."

"What ever happened between the three of you? Remus refuses to tell anyone, all we know is that it was the only time he ever got drunk."

She snorted, "Merlin, that is really not my story to tell." She smiled at him, "But I can assure you that I know they'll make each other happy."

"You had sex with one of them, didn't you?" He asked. He could see it in the blush that formed on her cheeks.

She looked away but didn't deny it.

"Well, shit. That's one hell of a first drunken experience." Peter muttered.

"I think it was a lot more than just one first experience." She nodded towards the pair again, "If you know what I mean."

"No way." He gasped, "Did they..."

She held her hands up, "I don't know anything, alright? According to this conversation I was too drunk to remember that night."

Peter blew out a long breath, "Noted."

Lily sipped on her drink leisurely, just like Regulus always does. This reminded him of something he noticed earlier,

"So, do you and Regulus know each other well? I saw you guys together when we first got here."

"Oh, kind of. We only hang out at parties. We're like each other's safety net in a way, we make sure nothing goes wrong and that neither of us gets too messed up."

"I don't know, a few years ago probably. It's been a while." She shrugged.

"When did that start?" He tried to make the question casual. Something about the way she said it reminded him of what Remus had said earlier. 'Or maybe it's something else'.

"So you guys always sit next to each other?"

"Mhmm." She glanced around, a slight frown on her lips, "Except today apparently. He went of with Sirius and he hasn't come back yet."

Peter nodded, letting it finally sink in.

Everything James did when he was drunk was always in her direction, the singing, the confessions, the love-sick puppy dog eyes.

But it wasn't ever at her, was it?

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

"Can I ask you something?" He spoke quietly. Regulus eyed his hand but didn't shake him off,

The others had gone off to their separate conversations, leaving James and Regulus alone. James hadn't even noticed Peter leave.

Regulus had ended up winning their quidditch argument, pulling out a trump card James hadn't thought to bring up. He was impressed, his smile wide and genuine. He liked that Regulus wasn't just as passionate as he was.

They stayed quiet for a little bit, Regulus sipped on his drink and James tried to look at anything else, not wanting to get caught staring.

Eventually he couldn't take it anymore.

James turned completely to face Regulus, touching his shoulder to get his attention,

"Shoot."

"Everyone always tells me that my... 'courting' is over the top when I'm drunk. Is it really that bad?"

Regulus' lips twitched up in a smile, "It's not terrible. Some people find it endearing."

There was something different in James' expression when he asked, "Would you happen to be one of those people?"

Regulus watched him for another long moment before he answered, "I guess you could say that."

James nodded and looked away. He never moved his hand, Regulus didn't either.

"Do I ever say a name?" He cleared his throat, "Like when I'm... I don't know, people say I confess things. Do I ever say who I'm talking to?"

Regulus thought back to everything he remembered about Potter's attempts at flirting,

"I'm not sure... No, I don't think so. You did get the color of her eyes wrong one time, Lily laughed about it for like a week. It's hard to forget that they're green. But then again, you were really drunk so nobody blames you."

"What color did I say?" James asked quietly. Regulus looked at him then, the intensity in James' voice throwing him for a loop,

"You said gray."

There was a long pause before James looked up at him too. His eyes searching Regulus' own, like he was memorizing them.

"I meant it."

Regulus was confused for a moment, then he realised that was his eye color. James must have been talking about his eyes.

He froze, but then...

Oh.

Oh.

"Potter?" Regulus suddenly couldn't remember how to speak. James swallowed hard,

"Yeah?"

"It was... Lily you were speaking to all those times... right?"

James shook his head slowly.

"Who was it?" Regulus' question was a whisper.

James finally moved his hand, though instead of dropping it, he lifted it up to hover over Regulus' cheek,

"Do you really need me to answer that?"

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

"Sirius, I-" Remus looked away, his head spinning slightly, "I think I might be a little drunk."

Sirius' fingers dug into his shoulders, "How drunk?" He murmured. Remus' eyes held something deeper in them when he replied,

"Not so much that I don't know what I want."

"What do you want, Moons?"

The question was never answered.

It took them mere seconds to make it to the stairs leading up to their dorm.

They shut the door behind them, laughing and clutching onto each other as they caught their breath.

"Can I admit something to you?" Remus whispered, his eyes bright with excitement, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since that night."

Sirius nodded, "I know how you feel."

"I- I want you, Sirius." Remus turned to face him, holding his hands between his own, "More than that, I... I want to be with you."

"With me?" Sirius questioned. He refused to get his hopes up.

"I think I'm in love with you." Sirius blurted out. He wasn't exactly sure why. He wasn't even drunk. Remus didn't seem to mind, his small smile turned brilliant,

"With you." Remus repeated, "I want everything, Pads, I- I want a life with you. I always have."

And if Sirius had any ounce of self control, the dazed look in Remus' eyes and his small giddy smile was enough to shred it to pieces.

"I think I'm in love with you too." He whispered.

And those were the last words either of them spoke for the rest of the night.

Remus Lupin would always remember the only two times he'd ever gotten drunk. But not for the reasons you would expect.

[resident-idiot-simp]

God of death Logan and his right hand Wade a man who can't die

Ft: @existentialgaybirdnerd

He's a mercenary still and maybe he met Logan during the weapon X offshoot thing. And then he ends up doing not only mercenary jobs but also jobs for Logan

Bird: Logan was trying to help along all the souls left after the fire and was trying to help Wade when he woke up

He gets glimpses during the torture but absolutely he finally sees him for real after the fire

Bird: Logan liked Wade because he sent so many people to him and was funny, so seeing him during and after the fire and unable to help him broke his heart. When Wade gasped awake, Logan nearly cheered for the human who had once again escaped his grasp

And Wade immediately blurts out that he is the hottest thing he's ever seen

Bird: "Am I in fucking heaven because holy shit I think I'm looking at God"

And Logan can't help but be flattered because no one ever looks at him with anything other than fear

After this Logan says he will help Wade get his revenge and that's exactly what he does. He has a grudge against these people anyway because of how many innocents are being slaughtered.

He is there for every single death and Wade treats it like courting.

Bird: Logan watches as Wade kills every person and whispers suggestions for questions and suit designs in his ear, amusing himself with Al's sass. Twist: that's who Wade is talking to during 4th wall breaks

When Francis dies Logan is ecstatic and immediately grabs his soul and pretty much eviscerates him. Francis has about 2 seconds before he realizes what's going on and Logan just waves at him and then Wade waves at him. And Francis has the biggest OH SHIT moment in existence.

Bird: And then Wade gets up and the Vanessa thing happens and when the other two walk away he asks how she would feel being in a throuple with death

Vanessa the legend she just shrugs and asks if death is hot

Bird: Death goes on a vacation (me: Or alternatively not quite a vacation but he is regularly around.) to be in a happy throuple for a couple of years. Pretends to be a simple mutant

Bird: He doesn't need to do TOO much because he's got helpers anyway. Death is a lot of paperwork but he collects souls sometimes for fun. So he'll just bring paperwork to their apartment and parallel play while they all do their own thing

Vanessa when she first sees him says this was the best decision of her life. While Logan immediately likes her because of how similar she is to Wade

Weasel absolutely notices Wade doesn't talk into thin air when Logan is around and he's getting suspicious.

Bird: One day Logan looks at Weasel as he's trying to figure it out and winks at him and disappears

WEASEL FREAKS OUT Wade and Vanessa play dumb

Bird: Wade: "he went to the bathroom like 2 minutes ago man, what do you meant he disappeared?"

Weasel would write it off because of a mutation but he already damn well knows Logan's mutation. He has to It's best friend code to know everything about your best friends partner or partners in this case

Bird: Logan will go invisible and just fuck with things behind the bar when it's a slow night, making Weasel think the place is haunted. and he always wins the dead pools and no one knows how

(Dp 2)

Bird: Logan is busy or indisposed and Vanessa wouldn't necessarily die, but Wade does kinda lose his shit because holy hell someone tried to kill my gf and now there's a boy in trouble.

Ooohhh what it could be is because of Cable coming into existence during the past it's screwing things up for Logan on his side

Logan ends up outing himself when Cable appears in the apartment with his idea.

Logan just appears and starts cursing Cable out because DO YOU KNOW THE NIGHTMARE THAT YOU JUST CAUSED FOR ME?!

[hwnglx]

Caitlin what do enhypen sunghoon and gidle shuhua think of eachother?

what do they think of each other? sunghoon + shuhua

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

what does sunghoon think about shuhua?

so to start off, the four of swords immediately came out once i started shuffling. so i don't think these two are very close, nor seeing each other at all right now.

in conjunction with that, sunghoon doesn't seem to have any significant thoughts on shuhua, like there isn't much to his opinion persé. he's always given me more of a chill and detached vibe, where he just lets most people be and doesn't concern himself with them much, unless he's close to them.

it does seem as though his opinion changed for the better once he got to know her a little closer. there might've been some prejudice before, where he felt she wasn't easy to talk to, or just gave off this proud and unapproachable demeanour. she was on guard and more cautious. having read for 4th gen groups' opinions on each other several times, i often get this vibe where male and female idols (generally speaking ofc! there's always expections) seem to be quite avoidant of each other? it's almost giving this classmate dynamic; you all go to the same school, might cross paths frequently, but don't always entertain each other's presence all that much. you're also aware that you'll be ripped to shreds looking into the opposite sex's direction.. but that's another conversation.

the empress in the end is telling me, sunghoon got to know shuhua's positive sides later on. he thinks she's pretty, kind, much more gentle, pleasant and nurturing than you'd expect. she seems like the type of person to have this fun and cheerful disposition on camera, while being calmer off camera, and taking care of the people around her when no one's looking.

what does shuhua think about sunghoon?

it looks like shuhua had more of a generalized and collective view of enhypen members as a group, being these young, immature, overly ambitious and free-spirited boys who're just doing their own thing; she didn't seem to have much of an opinion of sunghoon as an individual, i don't think she cared much before to be honest.

however, it's interesting because her thoughts literally transitioned from knight to the king, showing me that later on, sunghoon striked her as more mature than she initially thought. she thinks sunghoon is quite mature and grown up for his young age, and has this nice balance between emotional, logical and fiery energy. she thinks he's level headed and cool as a cucumber (like he doesn't allow things to get him overly emotional, stays calm in tense situations, thinks quickly) while also carrying a lot of passion for the things he's enthusiastic about, and has good emotional intelligence. just a very well-rounded guy.

[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake, Cheerleader Extraordinaire

Okay, hear me out: Tim deciding to try out for the college cheerleading team.

It starts out as a joke. Maybe Danny and Tim are at one of Danny’s football games, and Tim’s casually making some witty comment about the cheer routines. Danny, of course, being the chaotic boyfriend he is, goes, “Bet you couldn’t do half of that.”

Oh? well then, challenge accepted.

Tim’s been training for years—gymnastics, acrobatics, fighting crime on the regular—it’s not like a few flips and jumps are going to be any trouble for him. Plus, there’s something about the high-energy, peppy atmosphere that lowkey appeals to Tim. The chance to just let loose for a bit? Why not?

So, Tim being Tim, fully commits to the idea. He starts practicing routines, learning the cheers, and by the time tryouts roll around, he’s ready. Danny’s all supportive, of course, sitting in the bleachers with the biggest grin because this is Tim we’re talking about, and he’s about to blow everyone’s minds.

And he does.

The other cheerleaders? Absolutely shook. Tim’s out there pulling off flips, doing perfect jumps, and landing everything like he’s been doing this for years. He even throws in some crazy acrobatics just for the fun of it. Needless to say, Tim makes the team—no one can argue with those skills.

Then comes the uniform. The iconic moment.

Most of the men on the team wear shorts, but Tim, being Tim, decides to rock the skirt version of the uniform because why not? He likes the look, it’s more flexible, and he might as well commit to the whole look as well. And besides, he’s Tim Drake. He’s not going to let gender norms stop him from looking fabulous.

Cue Danny absolutely losing it.

Like, Danny was supportive before, but now? Oh no, now he’s flustered beyond reason. He didn’t expect this level of power move from Tim. When Tim shows up to the next game, wearing the cheerleading skirt, looking ridiculously good with those legs, flipping around with that same cool confidence—Danny can’t handle it. His brain? Fried. He can’t even focus on the game because every time Tim moves, Danny’s heart skips about three beats.

There’s a part of Danny that’s just beaming with pride because that’s his boyfriend out there, but there’s also this tiny, flustered part of him that’s a little jealous too. Now the whole campus gets to see how freaking amazing Tim looks in that cheer uniform, and Danny’s like, “Great, now I have to share this sight with the rest of the world.”

Tim, of course, notices. He can see Danny getting distracted on the field, shooting him these flustered glances, and Tim just smirks. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and if wearing the skirt gets that kind of reaction from his boyfriend, he’s definitely keeping it.

The best part? After the game, when Danny finally gets a chance to pull Tim aside. He’s trying to play it cool, but it’s obvious that he’s still a little jealous and way too flustered. He wraps Tim in his varsity jacket, tugging him close and muttering something about how now everyone gets to see Tim like that—but then immediately follows it up with a kiss because he’s still Danny and loves every second of it.

And Tim? He’s living for it. The cheerleading, the attention, Danny’s flustered reactions—it’s all just too good. Now, every game, Tim rocks that skirt uniform, flips and cheers like the pro he is, and Danny’s just the supportive (and slightly jealous) boyfriend watching from the field.

They’re the campus couple—the star quarterback and his cheerleader boyfriend, always hyping each other up, and now, every time Danny looks over at Tim mid-game, he’s reminded that, yep, Tim’s his, skirt and all.

[dadjoke-ness]

One of my favorite skyrim playthroughs is a khajit named "Not on the List".

She's not the dragonborn. She's never visited bleak falls barrow.

She's the head of the Assassin's and Thieves' Guilds. She's close friends with several jarls. She joined the Imperial army and she helped Ulfric solve the serial killer problem and married one of his potential victims, Shahvee.

The Khajit and Argonian lesbians own several homes and have adopted two children. Three if you count Babette of the Assassin's Guild.

Not on the List has also become a Vampire Lord in order to optimize her sneaking and magic skills.

She is also both friends with the Jarl of Markarth, while being friends with the escaped Forsworn. While doing the quest for Igmund where I kill a forsworn leader, I didn't realize at first this was the friendly camp so I killed like half my allies without them caring about me. Instead all the forsworn declared war on my poor little fox Sweetroll. I sent Sweetroll back to my pet home, Myrwatch.

Also, I accidentally killed Shadowmere by falling off the largest cliff in the game and she's not respawned yet, but luckily, the reindeer lives right outside the new assassin's guild. Until I can get the ghost horse that is.

Most used spell is conjure undying warrior. My ghost warrior and Cicero love violence, allowing me to stay hidden as I take potshots at powerful enemies that would one shot me.

During the Bard's College quest, I forgot I was a vampire lord and went to talk to an old lady who was asleep and drank her blood. Realized the old teachers at the Bard's College are wonderful for getting blood. Also have started visiting and biting the Jarls as a sidequest to taste every Jarl's blood.

And since I never started any dragon quests, my life is blissfully free of dragon attacks.

[boasamishipper]

bingo bingo cliff x carla

cheers would have been like 10% more enjoyable (it's already at 100% enjoyable but still) if they let cliff and carla fuck and then argue all the way to the altar (in the spirit of sam and diane)

[dude-iloveu]

drawing a character sleeping when i should be asleep rn. epic

[moe-broey]

I gotta say I am FOREVER thankful and deeply honored that I have found this tiny corner of Tumblr dot com where everyone is insane about Alfonse Fire Emblem and also Sharena my friend Sharena bc. I'm usually not a stickler for reblog to like ratios, I don't mind and I understand, BUT PLEASE. IF YOU REBLOG MY ART PLEAS EPLESE PLEAAASEEE BE INSANE ABOUT IT 💔💔💔💔💔

(I DO wanna make it clear I'm not ragging on anyone LMFAO and I'm still really happy when people enjoy my work! But ESPP when it comes to me posting comics/concepts it IS an open invitation please be silly and/or unwell about characters with me 🥺)

[anlxcqrd]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒.

sypnosis: telling the jjk men that you want a kiss after an argument.

contains: fluff, crack, suggestive, etc.

featuring: gojo, sukuna & megumi.

warning: suggestive content are present in the following. read at your own risk. (Just fluff for megumi since he's underaged)

GOJO SATORU

Satoru's back was facing you as he scrolls through his phone in your shared bed. You can tell he was getting tired of arguing and needed some space but you just couldn't leave him alone. You weren't gonna end the day with a heavy heart. You were determined to cheer him up.

So you gathered enough balls to say this. You sit up and turned to his back that was still unfortunately facing you. Leaning in a bit and clearing your throat, "I want a kiss." You say loud and clear. He shifts his position and looks at you with a small frown. "Are you serious?" He says sighing before putting his phone on the bedside table before sitting up.

It was rare for Satoru to get mad, it's more common for him to make you mad than the opposite and he's scary when he is. So it's quite stupid to think a kiss could make him crack a smile but you were determined to make his anger disappear. You lean in until your face were only inches away from touching. His big hand comes to touch your cheek. "You're so beautiful," he muttered, his thumb touching your lower lip before continuing. "Yet so annoying."

You were about to apologize when he crashes his lips onto yours dragging out a muffled gasp out of you. He was letting out his bottled up frustration and aggravation into the kiss, hands moving down to your clothed tits before cupping them and fondling them with a hint of roughness in his movements enough to male you moan into the kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck pulling him closer to you as this kiss turns into a heated make out session.

A few moments later, you break the kiss panting before speaking in a breathy voice, "I'm sorry for being childish today, Satoru." You look at him with a saddened look and he pulls you onto his lap and says, "you could make it up to me by showing me how sorry you are." He finally smiles, pressing a soft peck onto your lips.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

You fucked up. He's mad. I mean he's always mad but it feels like you just made the fire worse. Instead of keeping it burning, it bursted into a wildfire.

You follow him into his chambers but before you could enter, he slams the sliding door so hard the impact echoed throughout the estate even enough to startle a servant making them drop a basket of garments.

You slide the door open and sit across him. You knew acting apologetic wasn't gonna fix this so you were gonna do the opposite. Being all smug about it "I want a kiss" he shoots a glare your way making your back stiffen. You clear your throat, "I meant, oh dear lord Sukuna please press your plump—" He groans and gestures you to come closer, and you follow his orders.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Don't act like that. It doesn't suit you. It's annoying." He explains brushing a stand of hair behind your ear. "If you were someone else, I would've murdered them on the spot."

You gulped, feeling thankful for your privileges. "So can i get a kiss or not?" You ask, this time you really wanted to kiss him. Not just to cool his anger down but show him some affection as an apology for earlier's incident. He cups your chin, squeeshing your cheeks a bit before he presses a kiss to your neglected lips. Immediately, you kiss him back, sitting on his lap, you tangle your tongue with his and you slowly grind against his hardness.

"You're gonna beg for my forgiveness, got it? Clearly you've been having fun with your privileges lately."

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

Commonly in some couples, when they get into a disagreement, they will feel petty about it, one example is not cooking for the other, but Megumi is the opposite of that. He will cook for you after regardless. Even if you commit a crime, murder somebody, it's confusing to you and it makes you feel shitty.

The guy you were calling harsh names earlier, will still take care of you no matter what you do. Now here he is, serving you dinner in bed because you refused to leave the bedroom. Before he could walk to the door you hold his wrist "Megumi?"

"Yeah?"

"I want a kiss." He looks at you a bit caught off guard by your sudden confession but recovers quickly. "I thought you didn't want to see my face?" He asks and it makes the guilt hungrier. It's devouring you. "I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. I let my emotions get the best of me." You intertwine your fingers with his.

He squeezes your hand as a tender gesture before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then leaning down to capture your lips into a passionate kiss. You kiss him back, your hand running through his black locks. "I'm sorry baby, I'm sorry." You whisper between kisses.

"It's alright. Can i eat with you here?" He asks and you can tell he was hesitant. You pat the space beside you. "Yeah come on."

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 8:46

“Do you have dimples?”

Bakugou doesn’t understand it himself, but you always find your way back to his house after your first visit—asking these out-of-the-blue questions that seem to have no end to them. It’s like a curse has befallen him, one that follows him wherever he goes.

For a moment, his eyes snap in your direction, his head tilting ever so slightly to the side, though his intense glare never once wavers. He didn’t know what the hell you were getting at, and he wasn’t sure if he had the strength to even want to know why you were asking about something so random.

Honestly, he should be used to it by now. But the thing is, he isn’t, because sooner or later you’ll be popping out of nowhere with another of your pointless questions.

“Hah?”

“I asked, do you have dimples?” you repeated.

His eye twitches at the repeated question, and as much as he’d like to give you a snappy remark to get you to stop, he can’t seem to come up with one. So, for the time being, he decides to humor you (and hope for the best that you drop it and move onto another topic).

“Why the hell are you asking?”

“Because Kaminari and I made a bet whether you have dimples or not. I went with yes, you do have them—even if it’s a singular dimple, but Kaminari says otherwise,” you explained, tapping your finger softly against the coffee table.

He scoffs at the childish reason. “And what makes you think I do have one?”

“A hunch,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “I also have just one.” You smiled, showing off your obvious singular dimple on your right cheek.

Bakugou glances at your dimple for a brief moment, eyes scanning over your face and the way that the dimple seemed to perfectly dip into the soft skin of your cheek. He almost found himself entranced for a moment, but his gaze returned to your eyes as he huffed out in mock disinterest.

He was about to dismiss your hunch—maybe just flat-out refuse to even show you—or come up with a lie. But Bakugou Katsuki wasn’t a liar.

“What happens if you win the bet?”

“I get 3000 yen,” you answered.

That’s a lot, he thought.

“I can pay you 3000 yen to shut the fuck up and stop with the useless questions.”

“There’s no fun in that!”

He scoffs again as he leans back against the sofa, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at your stupidity. He eyed you for a moment, his head tilting to the side as he sighed. “And what happens if you lose the bet?”

“He gets 3000 yen.”

Bakugou almost wanted to laugh at the fact that you were putting so much faith and money on a simple guess, but he managed to hold back on the amused expression and forced himself to remain calm and unbothered.

He leaned back a bit more, relaxing against the plush seats, letting out a mocking “tch” before he said, “What if I don’t show you if I have a damn dimple or not?”

“Please? Oh my god, Bakugou. Don’t do this to me now! Kaminari’s going to do a ‘victory dance’ when he finds out he won by default,” you half-whined.

He was about to give you his final choice when suddenly you started whining at him. Bakugou rose an eyebrow at you, lips quirking to a frown. As idiotic as it is to him, it looks like it was quite a serious matter to you.

“Tch. Whatever.”

You threw your hands to your face, groaning. “Pretty please, with a cherry on top? Spare me some sympathy—and be a team player for once!”

He found himself fighting a scowl at the way you acted. It was somewhat different this time around, and it was making him feel weird. Damn it. You’re a goddamn nuisance.

“Alright, fine. Just—” He motioned with his hand for you to come closer, an almost annoyed expression on his face. “If you tell anyone else about this other than Dunce Face, I’ll make sure you don’t ever see the next sunrise.”

“That doesn’t sound heroic at all—but yes, of course!” you cheered. “Just a little smile, and I shall confirm the goods.”

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up,” he muttered under his breath, already regretting giving into your stupid request but at the same time knowing that he would never let Kaminari win against you in all circumstances possible.

He let out a huff and hesitantly let the sides of his own lips quirk up into a half-assed attempt at a smile, but from the way it was so rigid, it looked more like a painful grimace.

You gave him a confused, somewhat flat look in return. “Dude, you look like you’re about to shit yourself—mmph! ” You didn’t get to finish what you were saying as Bakugou’s palms immediately squished your cheeks together to shut you up.

“Oh shut it, dipshit,” Bakugou grumbled, his grip on your cheeks tightening ever so slightly as he forced you to pout your lips. “You were asking for a smile. I give one, and you wanna give me smart ass remarks about it?”

“I didn’ even gwet toh shee anythin’! That’s how bwad ith was,” you muffled out through pouty lips.

“Are you gonna keep yapping and bitching about what you asked for, or are you gonna accept my goddamn smile?”

“Fine, fine!” you yielded, pushung his hands away from your face. “Do it one more time, and I’ll actually check this time.”

He narrowed his eyes, almost as if he were wondering if you were going to actually do as you said or go against it and keep making smart-ass comments. But as you yielded, he let out a sigh and decided he’d rather just get this done and over with. 

Less hassle for him.

He repeated his ‘smile’ from before, which looked more like a forced sneer, and he waited for your verdict. This was his last straw; he was going to murder you (not).

You had to hold back your laughter but failed to do so. “I really can’t— Bakugou, please! ” you mused, hitting his shoulder playfully. “Your ‘smile’ reminds me of that time Kirishima had to hold the biggest shit before the bell rings.”

That caught Bakugou off guard. He remembered the memory of Kirishima’s panicked expression and the weird waddle he’d walked around in as he desperately tried to find a bathroom made Bakugou snort under his breath.

“Oh my god, you’re laughing!” you gawked. “And have a dimple! Just a singular one, like mine! We’re matching.”

There it was. A singular dimple on his left cheek.

Bakugou tried to regain his lost composure and let out a scoff in an attempt to mask the slight tint of pink that reached the tip of his ears. He forced his hand onto your face, shoving you (lightly, if he may add) away from him to prevent you from getting another look at his dimple.

“It’s not a worldwide discovery, dumbass. I can fucking laugh if I want to, and it’s just a fucking indent on the cheek.”

“Still cute,” you shrugged, pulling up your phone to text Kaminari. “I need to let Kami know that I won the bet, then we celebrate with bubble tea— my treat!”

“Hey wait— You—“

He tried to protest against your sudden celebration, wanting to tell you that he wasn’t going to let you treat him for anything. This whole damn thing started because of a stupid bet, and he doesn’t really find joy in gaining something from it, but as you pulled out your phone and began to text Kaminari, he sighed and leaned back again with his arms crossed tight against his chest.

“Whatever. You’re fucking annoying.”

“Kay,” you answered. “Also, your actual smile is pretty charming, if you ask me. It’s different from the usual sneer you have on your face. That’s just my opinion, though.”

Bakugou’s face grew a bit warm at your unexpected compliment, but he quickly tried to hide it and turned his head to avert his gaze away from you. His mouth opened to reply with a snappy remark or something like that, but he found himself hesitating.

He eventually scoffed and muttered a low, “Tch. Stop spouting nonsense.”

“Bakugou Katsuki has a singular dimple,” you sing-songed aloud, though you knew that no one would hear since his parents weren’t even home.

Bakugou felt his eyes twitch at your teasing, resisting the urge to tell you off and even going as far as to just punch your shoulder lightly. “Shut the fuck up, dipshit.”

He later found out that there was no bet, and you had just made up the whole scenario to confirm your curiosity. That Bakugou Katsuki does have a dimple, a singular one at that.

Could you imagine how furious he was?

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