#Iron Man and his Awesome Friends

[disneytva]

Animation on Disney - 2025

[geekcavepodcast]

Preschool Iron Man Cartoon "Marvel's Iron Man and His Awesome Friends" Announced

Disney Jr. has greenlit Marvel's Iron Man and His Awesome Friends, a new preschool series that will air on Disney Jr. and Disney+.

Marvel's Iron Man and His Awesome Friends follows a young Tony Stark / Iron Man, Riri Williams / Ironheart, and Amadeus Cho / Iron Hulk. The three best friends and super geniuses will work together to protect their city and each other. "To help them in their Super Hero endeavors, they each have their own Iron Suits that allow them to fly and give them each enhanced super-strength. In addition, Iron Man has a Nano-Shield; Ironheart has a Heartbeat Bubble forcefield to protect people, and Iron Hulk has his strong Iron Boom clap and Iron Hulk Stomp. They work out of their beachfront base, Iron Quarters (IQ), under the supervision of their superpowered android, Vision, and their furry pup, Gamma, who has her very own Iron Pup suit and accompanies the Iron Friends on many of their adventures." (Marvel Comics)

Marvel's Iron Man and His Awesome Friends stars the voice talents of Mason Blomberg (Tony Stark / Iron Man), Kapri Ladd (Riri Williams / Ironheart), Aidyn Ahn (Amadeus Cho / Iron Hulk), David Kaye (Vision), and Fred Tatasciore (Gamma).

Marvel's Iron Man and His Awesome Friends will debut in Summer 2025.

(Image via Marvel Comics - Promo Image for Marvel's Iron Man and His Awesome Friends)

[smashpages]

Spidey & His Amazing Friends (Marvel) is one of almost 50 titles announced for Free Comic Book Day 2025. Read more

[blow-ur-mind]

Currently in production, the series will feature a young Tony Stark and his “world-saving besties”: Riri Williams (Ironheart) and Amadeus Cho (Iron Hulk). The three cartoon heroes will work together to protect their city and each other.

Per the logline, “To help them in their Super Hero endeavors, they each have their own Iron Suits that allow them to fly and give them each enhanced super-strength. In addition, Iron Man has a Nano-Shield; Ironheart has a Heartbeat Bubble forcefield to protect people, and Iron Hulk has his strong Iron Boom clap and Iron Hulk Stomp.”

The designs are cute. As I've said before, you don't have to like Ironheart, but some of the reactions to her being included in a cartoon for preschool kids seem ridiculous. Some of the general reactions seem over the top in general, imo. I'm sure other characters will also appear on this show.

[wisecrackingeric-2]

TOP 3 RE CHARACTERS OTHER THAN LUIS + LEON??? 👀

IM SO SORRY I CANT FIND THE ORIGINAL ASK POST THIS WAS FOR THIS ASK IS ONLY SHOWING UP NOW :(((( but this is weirdly a really tough question???? My favourites kinda change from day to day it’s hard to pick just three!!!

Ethan and Heisenberg hold a soft spot in my heart cuz 1) I’m a MASSIVE massive massive sucker for loving dad characters and 2) Heisenberg was kinda sorta very inadvertadly my gay awakening HDBEHDBEHDJS so like??? Maybe those two???? But idk who would be the third I’m so sorry!!!

[melodrangea]

Nicknames Soul Eaters Boys call their S/O

———————

Soul “Eater” Evans

sweetheart

he says this extremely sarcastically, especially during training

“C’mon sweetheart, is that all you got? I saw you lift twice as much yesterday.”

doll

often uses it in a more formal setting or when he’s trying to tease

“What’s the matter doll? Cat got your tongue?”

He’s a little menace but he’s our menace <3

babe

most common out of the three

you name DOES NOT exist to this man

no name, no nickname, nothing

“Babe can I borrow your notes. Babe where do you wanna go later? BABE”

———————

Black Star

n/n or another variation of you name

doesn’t really use pet names much (sorry babes)

why words words on pet names? he’s way too blunt and if he’s feeling something he’ll just say it, not waste time on fancy words or pet names

(that’s what he tells himself being fr he’s not creative enough as much as I love him)

babe

mostly used around friends (this dumbass thinks he’s being smug)

“hey babe wasn’t going out yesterday awesome? I mean since we’re so inlove and everything.”

the little shit would make your relationship EVERYONE ELSE’S problem (no one is safe 😭)

———————

Death the Kid

Darling

this pretentious hipster

is fairly consistent with the pet names he uses but darling is his favorite

“Darling can you please pass me that book there?”

“Are you alright darling?”

my dear

uses this one without realizing it most of the time

will be chilling in the library studying and will half-consciously call for you

“are you almost done?”

“just a few minutes more my dear, then we can go”

you chuckled, “what did you call me”

“what do you mean, what did I call you?”

love

Kid is a romantic at heart, very classy as well

he would stare into your eyes and call you love

“my love you have no clue how much I love you.”

———————

Crona Gorgon

honey

you would call him honey bunny as a joke and he loved it so he started calling you honey

would always have the cutest blush in his face when he said it too

“o-oh thank you honey :)” (cutie patootie 💋)

dear

would definitely take him a while to start calling this, but when he does 🤌💋

“are you alright if we stay a little longer dear? It’s been a while since we’ve seen the others”

being fr this poor soul would be TERRIFIED to call you something other than your name or a variation for A WHILE

his brains running six times the speed 🏃🏼

———————

Professor Stein

this sadistic mf

i pray for anyone dating this man

but we can be delulu for a few

dove

would absolutely call you dove or some other kind of bird

reminds him of how he protects you like your a delicate bird (and he likes experimenting on birds if yk what i mean 😏)

angel

TELL ME HE WOULDN’T

ngl he only calls you angel when he’s horny asf in a good mood

“hey angel, can you come here for a bit?”

NONE OF YOUR HOLES ARE SAFE RIP

honey

only time your safe if when he calls you honey

mostly calls you this when you’re having a bad day

BUT HE STILL MANAGES TO SOUND SARCASTIC ASF

this is a warning, this man will accidentally hurt your feelings 24/7

“You doing alright there honey? You want to talk about it?”

———————

Kilik Rung

fuck not being allowed to have favorites I LOVE THIS BITCH

only fully green flag in the show i stg (except Marie ofc)

lovebug

he will call you every single pet name he can come up with, but love bug is his favorite

neither of you know how it started but you’re not complaining

“You’re too sweet for me lovebug” <33

sweets

ya see what i did there? ofc he combines his two favorite things: you and those damn candy bars

“This class is so boring, right sweets?”

will calls you sweets often to express thanks kinda like a “thanks toots”

getting more into that

toots

he thinks he’s funny (and he is)

will say this very ironically and usually infront of friends to make everyone laugh

the only slightly annoying quality abt Kilik is his inability to take anything other than combat seriously

“hey toots, how’s it goin’?”

hon

I SWEAR THIS IS THE LAST ONE!

but you cannot tell me this man is not from New Orleans or some other adjacent

and the hon with the southern-ish accent

being so fr he will call you hon all the time and it will fluster tf out of you (he’s smug abt it, just a little 🤏

“You look nice, who are you all dressed up for hun?”

———————————————————————————

woo hoo first post!

anyways hope y’all are doing great

any comments, questions, requests or concerns feel free to DM me!

-Melodrangea <3

[blainesebastian]

moments

word count: 10,720 ship: Nick Leister x reader rating: NC-17 (for some smut, suggestive sexual language and expletives) summary: There are moments you know you shouldn’t compare your ex to Nick, there’s no place where the two converge. Or maybe, you suppose, that’s exactly the point. notes: idk man this movie has become my whole personality, i got nothing else to say. (other than the gifs are from this awesome gifpack!) notes 2: reader has an abusive ex. while there are no explicit scenes of abuse, there are discussions of past abuse and trauma edit: i now have a masterlist!

You met Nick at a party like this. 

You had just broken up with your boyfriend and instead of wallowing, your friends dragged you to the nearest party they could find. You’re not easily someone who believes in fate or the universe having a plan, but you think that something happened that night to bring Nick into your life. 

You can still feel the thrum of the music in your veins, bumping into him as he was carrying drinks to someone, right on the makeshift dance floor in someone’s house. You remember opening your mouth to apologize–

“You should really come with a warning label if you’re going to swing your arms like that.” He says, British accent thick, eyes sharp. 

He’s beautiful, you think. He’s also an asshole. 

Your hands fall to your hips, eyebrows drawing together as you take a look at him. Really take a look. You moved here because your parents had work, ironically with Nick’s father. You’ve heard of the infamous Nick but haven’t met him in person. 

Lucky you, that seems to be tonight. 

Your eyes draw in the line of his jaw, the way his eyes flit over to yours, assessing you as you take in him. Your gaze runs from the light blonde, highlighted curls in his hair, to the strong shoulders, to the tapered waist. 

And then you spit out, “So should you, if you’re going to open your mouth.” 

He’s taken back, you can tell, a flicker of amusement in his eyes now at having the banter to play with. The corners of his mouth twitch in an almost smile, “Then I guess we better steer clear of one another,” He replies, leaning closer so you can hear him over the music.  You can smell laundry detergent, expensive cologne, “Two warning labels usually infer a pending explosion.” 

Keeping your distance didn’t exactly work, though. Your friends are in the same circles, and two curving lines have no choice but to eventually converge. It seems like everywhere you turn around, Nick is there. Other parties, weekends at lush spots, fighting rings, underground driving events, the list goes on and on. 

You seem stuck in this man’s orbit, this layer of so-called ‘danger’ slipping warmly into your veins and heating you up from the inside out. With every interaction, there’s still the barbed exchanges, the rolling of eyes, the quirk of lips. But you’re not sure how much of that is show—you both know how to have a good time with your set of friends, sometimes even with eachother. You’re not sure you’d call Nick a friend but…you suppose it’s better than what you were when you first met. 

As you move through the crowd of people gathered in the large, mansion-esque living room of the latest party you’re at, you do your best to find Jenna. She’s not the friend you came with, but you wanted to catch up, maybe even dance? You’re not exactly in the mood to be here tonight, so maybe that’ll open you up a bit more to having a good time. 

Turning down a hallway, you pause as you almost run into someone. A guy taller than you, eyes glassy, giving you a onceover before a grin, “Lost?” 

You sigh audibly, shaking your head, “Nope,” Voice full-American, which seems to bring a twinkle of amusement to the guy’s face, “Just headed that way.” You point towards the kitchen. 

“I can show you around,” He offers, trying to sling an arm around your shoulders, “Sounds like you might need a tour guide.” 

And boy, are you getting tired of that boring line. You get it, you’re not from London, but just because you’re American does not mean you need someone to show you around. You’ve been here for half of a year, you’re not about to call yourself a native, but you’re definitely settling in. 

“No,” You push his arm away. 

“Stop being so ungrateful,” He scoffs, taking two heavy steps forward. The movement is awkward, like his body is catching up with his brain. You’re not anticipating it, so you find yourself stumbling back, knocking into a table as he grabs your arm. 

“Get off me,” You snap, trying to yank yourself free, but this guy won’t let up. 

He’s wearing a ring on his one finger and it’s twisted in the wrong direction so that the stone actually slides against your arm when you try to create some space. It’s a quick cut, nothing you’d write home about but t’s the fact that he won’t back up, he won’t let go–

“Hey!” 

Your head snaps in the direction of the familiar voice, Nick, coming down the set of stairs near where you’re standing. He rounds the corner, reaching in one fluid movement to yank the guy off. Tall guy stumbles back, tripping over the carpet, Nick’s body suddenly standing in front of yours. 

“Are you deaf?” Nick snaps, cocking his head as if he’s really trying to understand. His body lines up at an angle, as if he’s ready for a fight and that’s the last thing you want. Your hand gently moves to the back of his shirt, a soft tug, his muscles flexing beneath your touch. 

He glances over his shoulder at you before turning his attention back to Tall guy, movements relaxing—he bends to your request. No fighting. 

Until Tall guy opens his mouth.

“Didn’t know she was going to be such a bitch about—” 

There’s barely a moment in which the sentence is finished before Nick’s fist is flying through the air. It lands on this guy’s nose and he crumbles like a house of cards. A small gasp leaves your lips, your eyes wide as blood spurts from between the guy’s fingers and Nick rolls his shoulders, turning to check you over. 

“Look at me,” He says, hand touching your arm. Your eyes snap to his and he scowls at the cut there, red and angry thanks to that guy’s ring. “C’mon, let's clean you up.” 

Nick’s hand slips down to gently clasp your own, tugging you towards the kitchen. It’s not very busy, or maybe people are clearing out at the look on Nick’s face, either way you’re glad it’s not as stifling as some of the other rooms. He scoots you backwards until your legs find a stool and you prop yourself up on it, Nick moving to grab a washcloth from one of the drawers. You watch him carefully, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. 

“You didn’t need to hit him.” 

He pauses and then turns to look at you with his eyebrows raised. A scoff tumbles forth, “I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’.” 

Now it’s your turn to look surprised, “For what? Punching someone?” 

His eyebrows draw together, amusement flickering in his eyes like a heated fire, “You have the strangest way of showing people your gratitude.” He moves towards you like a force. He’s not that much taller than you, but Nick’s the kind of person to take up space. The kind of person you step aside for. Handsome and unpredictable, just like the first day you met him. 

Blame it on the action from tonight, the leftover adrenaline shaking your body, prior experience with hands on you in ways that have not been kind, something—but when Nick reaches out and takes your arm—you flinch. 

He notices instantly, letting go and taking one step back to give you space. His eyes dance over you for a moment and you know he’s taking in the way you’ve wrapped your arms around yourself, your shoulders drawn in, the slight shaking to your hands. 

“Sorry,” He apologizes, voice a shade gentler than it was before. 

You swallow over an unspoken emotion in your throat before straightening your shoulders, eyes narrowing as you take a look at him. “I’m just saying I could have handled it.” 

He doesn’t argue with you this time, must sense you need to own that somehow, and just nods, “Can I see your arm?” 

You’re holding your arm to your chest like an injured bird does its wing, even though you’ve had worse. You’ve been through worse. Scars that you can’t see but are still there. You run your tongue over your teeth before relaxing your spine, slowly extending your arm towards him. 

Nick takes that as permission to walk back towards you and at the angle of the stool, you’re almost eye level, his body slightly between your knees as he turns your arm over in his hands. He takes the washcloth that he’s dampened and drags it across your skin. 

You close your eyes, biting down on the inside of your cheek, hating to admit what you’re about to say as your pulse slows,  “I didn’t…actually…have that handled.” You hate to think of what could have happened if Tall guy hadn’t backed off, if you couldn’t have stopped him, if no one would have thought twice to check if you were okay.

Nick doesn’t say anything though, just continues to clean the cut, his eyes trained on your skin. His thumb brushes the inside of your arm, a silent comfort, encouraging you to speak again, 

“My ex was a real jerk, put his hands on me.” You do not elaborate, but it seems like you don’t need to. Nick’s movements still a moment, his jaw working. “Not something you get used to or over quickly.” 

“Your ex is lucky he’s still in America.” He mumbles after a few breaths, his thumb still tracing back and forth over the inside of your elbow, his eyes finally meeting yours. You’re not sure why you’re surprised at what you see there. A gentleness, an anger, a protective warmth that you…maybe knew Nick was capable of but hadn’t seen firsthand. 

A soft smile tugs the corners of your mouth, your hand settling on his, “Not your problem.” 

“Shouldn't be yours either.” He says, squeezing your fingers. 

There’s this moment where you can’t tear your eyes from his, that heat that’s associated with Nick winding itself around you like ivy, digging between your ribs. It’s like something magnetic, you can’t quite look away, and yet you remind yourself of what was shared between the two of you when you first met. Two warning signs, indeed, could mean some sort of explosion. 

And yet, this person right here? The one standing in front of you? You think that might be worth the risk. Someone that’s maybe just as kind and thoughtful as they are opinionated, and impulsive. Velvet over broken glass. This version is not the Nick you thought you knew…and you’re not sure what to do with that. 

“Uhm,” You clear your throat, breaking the moment, “Have you seen Jenna? I was gonna see if she wanted to dance but now I kinda want to head home. Just want to say bye.” 

He shakes his head, helping you off the stool by slipping his hand into your own. “No, but I can drive you.” 

You soothe your hand over your jeans, “You don’t have to go out of your way.” 

Nick smiles a little, the expression open, “Don’t worry about it—this party is quickly losing its appeal anyways.” 

You don’t fight him on it twice. 

—

In spite of so called ‘warning labels’—there are sometimes shared looks, quiet smiles, and a warmth that blooms as you get to know one another. Maybe that’s friction. Maybe it’s something else. 

“Swear no one hears me when I say I don’t like onions,” You crinkle your nose in the booth of a diner, pressed to the one corner, Nick across from you as Jenna and Lion share the other seats. The table is completely covered with food to share, Jenna laughing as Lion tries to steal her fries. 

There are raw onions on the burger you ordered, despite asking for it without. Before you can lift the bun to take them off, Nick reaches across the table and swaps your plates. He says nothing, doesn’t even lift his eyes to look at you—but his burger is now in front of you. Onion free. 

A soft smile tugs the corners of your mouth and you can’t help the small thrill of butterflies in your chest as you add ketchup to your fries. 

—

Your parents don’t know about your ex. 

You just…never wanted to tell them what happened. Especially since it didn’t matter, you were moving to London, leaving him behind and all the problems that came with it. Maybe if they knew your mom would talk to you about what healthy relationships look like, maybe they would suggest therapy. Maybe you’d even go. Sometimes it’s hard to admit that the person who went through what happened was actually you. As if you’re a spector in your own life. 

Every so often, you deny you have emotional scars. The physical ones have long faded to healed skin. Except, scars run deep, and sometimes you’re not even aware they’re still there until they flutter to the surface. They rear their ugly heads in the most unexpected of times. 

Or maybe it shouldn’t be surprising at all. 

A glass shatters. 

Your entire body goes rigid even though Jenna is laughing and leaning into Lion over it. The sounds start to warp around you and you’re staring at the glass at the floor, as if the shards will leap into the air and perform some sort of circus act. You’re over Nick’s house with your friends, having drinks and hanging out by the pool, you’re all getting a refill and someone overreaches for a glass in a cabinet. 

“Butter fingers,” Lion teases his girlfriend, grabbing her hand to spin her close and kiss her shoulder. 

“Was an ugly glass anyways,” Giles replies, crinkling his nose. 

Your hand lingers on your chest a moment, your heart hammering under the pressure of your fingers. You try to tell yourself that it’s an accident, that you’re not in danger, that you’re not what happened to you. You talk through all that helpful language you googled that’s supposed to help center yourself when you feel like you’re on the edge of a panic attack. You remind yourself that you’ve been doing well, you’ve been coping, that past memories belong in a box in the back of your mind and that a sound isn’t strong enough to unleash them. 

But nothing helps. 

Your vision narrows and then goes glassy, fuzzy black fades in from the edges, it feels like there’s a hand around your throat, squeezing. You excuse yourself quietly for the bathroom and your friends don’t notice, which is fine, you’re not sure you’d be able to stop even if they did. 

You make a b-line for the bathroom, turning a corner too fast and bumping into—

“Whoa,” Nick’s hands come down on your shoulders. When he gets a good look at your face, his eyes widen slightly. “Hey—” His voice is soft, dipping his chin to try and catch your gaze, “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

“I—” You choke out, air constricted in your throat, “I can’t—”

Nick seems to understand, gently backing you up towards the bathroom. The door doesn’t shut completely, angling towards closed, which you’re grateful for—the room doesn’t feel any smaller than it already does. Tears gather in your eyes, frustration and concern building up in your chest like a bonfire. You don’t claw at your skin, but you’ve been there, where it feels like the only way that you can possibly feel better is to peel it off your neck. Like there’s a literal barrier between you and breathing. 

You don’t even realize you’ve sat down on the closed toilet seat until Nick’s kneeling in front of you. His voice sounds like it’s underwater and he takes your hand to rest it on his chest. You can feel the beat of his heart under your fingertips, the steady intake of air as he speaks again.

He keeps repeating the same phrase as tears spill down your cheeks, “Copy me.” 

“Wh-what?” You stutter out, his words suddenly coming in sharp, clear. 

His other hand, the one not holding your hand on his chest, cups your cheek, brushing tears away with his thumb. He curls your hair around your ear, fingers resting against your neck. 

“Breathe with me,” Nick’s voice is patient, squeezing your fingers, his thumb working back and forth along your knuckles, giving you something to concentrate on. “In—” He draws breath into his lungs, then, “Out—” He whispers, letting it go. 

You copy, barely, chest aching. It comes out as a gasp. 

“Good,” He nods, “Again.” He waits. “Again.” He soothes, “Again.” 

Until it becomes easier, until it doesn’t feel like your entire chest is caving in. The hyperventilating slows, your eyes slide shut, your pulse calms in your throat. You don’t open your eyes until the dull roar disappears in your ears, Nick’s thumb still moving calming circles against your knuckles, your neck. 

Your gaze eventually meets his brown ones, concerned as they trace your face. His hand moves again, the one on your neck, cupping your cheek and removing another tear track. 

“There you are,” He says softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I got you.” 

You swallow over what feels like glass in your throat, your fingers still holding onto his t-shirt against his chest like a lifeline. You don’t often get panic attacks like that, but when they come? They drive through you with the force of a freight train. 

“Can I get you anything?” 

You blink, trying to figure out if you do, in fact, need something. A glass of water might be nice, but you don’t want him to move, the weight of him against your legs grounding in a way you can’t explain. 

You decide on shaking your head, your hand eventually falling from his chest to rest in your lap. His hand follows yours, brushing his thumb along your knee. 

“They always come on fast like that?” 

You shake your head, “Sometimes I think they’re completely gone, they just—pop up out of nowhere.” You sniffle, curling your hair around your ear. You have no idea why your cheeks flush in embarrassment, but they do, to let someone see where you’re struggling the most. Where you feel the most vulnerable. 

But when your eyes meet Nick’s, there’s no judgement there. Just a soft gaze, open, waiting. 

“A glass fell in the kitchen, broke and—my ex used to throw things when he got pissed off. The sound, it just—” You’re not sure you have to explain, hoping it’s enough.

Nick’s face is unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes—a dangerous sort of calm that you wouldn’t wish on anyone. He traces his thumb around your knee. 

“Sounds like a real tool.” 

The comment is so out of pocket that a laugh bubbles up in your chest and you nod, “He was. Sometimes I feel like relationships are just always meant to end messy, one way or another.” Or maybe you’ve convinced yourself, somehow, that you don’t deserve something good. You put yourself out there with your ex, and look at what happened. 

Nick shakes his head, holding your gaze when he says, “Not all of them.” 

There’s a small thrill that works its way into your chest, something weighted in the way he says it. You chew on your lower lip, Nick’s eyes slipping to your mouth, and you’re suddenly reminded of time you’ve spent together. While you have the same friends, you’re not sure if you’d consider that to define your relationship. And yet here he is, on his knees in front of you, making sure you’re alright. 

“Thought it was best we steer clear of one another,” You repeat his suggestion from the first time you met but your voice is teasing. “Pending explosions and all.” 

Nick stands and your head tips back to look at him. He seems to give it careful thought, his pursing lips making a soft laugh leave your lips. “Think I can handle a little danger—can’t you?” 

You find yourself nodding and take his hand when it’s offered, tugging you up off the toilet to head back out to your friends. 

—

Nick spends the night checking in with you—it’s not so much words he uses, but its eyes dancing over your form, it’s a tentative hand on your lower back, it’s making you laugh—long and hard, it’s picking you up over his shoulder and jumping into the pool with you, it’s your lips brushing when you float to the surface when he’s grinning. 

It’s like he’s suddenly everywhere, not just here at his place, but over the next few weeks that you end up spending time with one another. A hand brush here and there, a shared grin, hushed laughter and an ease and comfortability that was not there before. 

A so-called ‘warning label’ begins to fizzle down to its base form—what it actually is.

Attraction. And that’s not something that feels so hazardous anymore. 

—

You love dancing. You’re not altogether good at it, but that doesn’t matter. After enough to drink, the alcohol buzzing like warm bees in your system, with your friends around you, the lure of letting off steam and feeling comfortable in your veins just overwhelms you. 

The club that you end up at is a typical haunt on a Saturday night, your smile bright as you wrap your arms around your best friend from behind. Jenna laughs nearby, turning to smack a kiss to Lion’s cheek. Nick brings back a tray of shots for everyone and you take yours eagerly, tipping it back. 

When you set the glass down, Nick has his eyes on you, a smile pulling at the edges of his mouth. He's dressed in a black t-shirt, and you can’t help but sneak a peek at his biceps, how well he fills out the fabric. His long sleeve shirt is gone somewhere, maybe where everyone was once sitting before. He looks comfortable, like you could curl up against him, like his arms could lift you up—

“Enjoying the view?” He asks over the music, leaning closer. 

You shiver, refusing to show how much a simple question has an impact on you. Because yes, you were. 

You shrug, “It’s not bad. I’m still deciding.” 

He steps closer, into your space, his hand sliding down your arm and when he speaks this time; his lips brush your ear. “Anything I can do to influence that decision?” 

This time you can’t hide your body’s reaction, you know that Nick feels it, his fingers brushing over goosebumps that appear on your forearm. You hate the smug look on his face as he pulls away, so you decide the only distraction that’ll work at this point is tugging him onto the dance floor. You turn your arm in his hand, sliding up until your palms meet. 

“You can dance with me.” 

Nick smiles, following you onto the floor,  your friends following. It’s a small circle of moving bodies, and despite the nerves that are skittering along your nerves like spiders, you let yourself slip into the music. It’s some sort of bouncy electronic bop that you know well and you find yourself singing along to the chorus as you dance along to it. You can’t help but laugh as Nick grabs your hand and spins you, angling his body closer to yours. There’s a swaying motion, his hands ending up on your hips. 

He squeezes; a question in his eyes, if it’s alright to put his hands on you like this. Because it’s slightly more intimate than small, insignificant touches you’ve shared before. You’re overwhelmed by the gesture, that despite how close you’ve gotten, he still wants to make sure it’s okay. That permission means everything to you. 

You respond with a grin, your arms wrapping around his neck, keeping him close. And you’re inseparable for the rest of the night. 

—

Nick has a driver pick you all up so no one has to worry about driving. There’s a few minutes outside the club, waiting on the pavement. When you wrap your arms around yourself, a slight breeze causing a chill down your spine, he slides off the long-sleeve shirt he came in and drapes it over your shoulders. The warmth of his body lingers and you draw the fabric over your hands, breathing in the scent of his cologne. 

When an SUV arrives, you end up sharing a row with him. The sway of driving rocks you gently, your eyes slipping closed as your head rests back against the seat, and when you wake up at your place, you’re tucked under Nick’s arm along his side. 

—

Nick hands you a book in passing, something that he had tucked away in his car as you’re about to get into Jenna’s to leave the underground driving circle. It’s so unexpected and somehow odd in a place like this that you kinda blink. Your fingers brush as the book transfers from one palm to another. 

“Thought you might like this,” He says. 

It’s well-read, obviously by him. And it’s something so simple, saying ‘I thought of you’, ‘I think about you’, ‘you’d like this’—something your ex never did. 

He never thought about you. Not like that. Not gently. Not with concern and affection. Not in a way that mattered, that made you feel good. 

You look down at the title, a small smile tugging the corners of your lips—The Things They Carried. Somehow it’s fitting. 

“You think about me?” You ask, voice teasing, holding the book to your chest. 

Nick grins, “Hard not to.” 

And before he can back away, you wrap your fingers in his shirt and pull him close, tipping your head up to kiss him. 

It’s everything you ever thought it might be. There’s a brief moment of hesitation before he cups both sides of your face, angling the movement down, tongue teasing the seam of your lips. His body presses against yours but it fits perfectly, lines up with your own, as if something was missing beforehand that you were unaware of. 

“Thank you,” You whisper after a moment, against his mouth. “For the book.” 

Nick licks his lips, his thumb brushing over your lower one. “Definitely have more recommendations if this is the general reaction.” 

And well, you’ve always been a reader. 

—

“Oh come on,” You chew on your lower lip, “Pancakes all the way.” 

Nick scoffs something far too attractive, crinkling his nose as he heats up the waffle iron. “Knew there had to be something wrong with you, after all this time, just didn’t know it was gonna be this.” 

You toss a blueberry at him and he, annoyingly, catches it, popping it into his mouth with a grin. He points a spatula at you. 

“How have you lived a life thinking pancakes are superior to waffles? This an American thing?” 

“This is an ‘I’m right’ thing.” You toss back, looking at all the different combinations of sweets that can go on or in these pancakes (or waffles). “The ridges in waffles make it difficult to spread butter evenly.” 

Nick licks his lips, his finger tracing the handle of the spatula as he turns pancakes over in the pan. He adds batter to the waffle iron. “Not if you try hard enough.” 

You shake your head, amusement skittering along your spine as you can’t help but look down at his hands. He’s wearing two rings today, something comfortable and simple. But the only thing it does is highlight the shape of them, gorgeous, like they were made to play an instrument. 

“I think you’re just trying to infer that you’re good with your hands.” 

“What was that about my hands?” He raises his eyebrows, voice impossibly warm like dripping honey. 

He sets two finished pancakes on a plate and flips the flame off under the pan. He leans against the counter as he looks at you, something molten slipping from your stomach to between your legs as you hold his gaze. 

“You heard what I said.” 

Nick wanders over, encroaching on your space in the best way. He tilts his head down a little, brushing his lips over yours as he lifts you onto the counter in one even swoop. 

You can’t help but grin, your hands settling on his shoulders as he slips between your legs. 

“Sounds like you’re going to need a hands-on demonstration.” 

“I can’t believe you said that with a straight face.” But your laugh comes out as a whimper as Nick’s fingers press against the center of you, an easy target given how you’ve splayed your legs to accommodate his body, the fabric of your leggings leaving nothing to imagination. 

“Oh,” Nick whispers against your lips, amusement dancing across his handsome features as he begins to move his thumb, “Maybe you don’t need a demonstration at all.” 

And this asshole actually dares to move his hand, as if he’s giving up the suggestion. You clamp your knees together as best you can, his body in the way, a chuckle rumbling in his chest as his hand becomes trapped between your thighs. 

“Don’t you dare.” You mumble against his mouth.

“Is that a threat?” He nips at your lower lip, tugging it between his teeth at the same time his hand encourages your thighs to open to give him room. He pushes into the waistband of your leggings, a smirk decorating his mouth as you scooch closer to the edge of the counter. A shiver skitters down your spine at the feel of the cold metal of his rings brushing against heated skin. 

You hate giving him the satisfaction of any noises leaving your mouth but at a certain point, it becomes undeniable. And he knows that. You swear that having him like this is something you’re never going to get used to, despite that things are still new between you two. His thumb drags over your clit, one finger slipping into you, your back bowing a little when he adds another. 

“That’s it,” He leans down and presses an open-mouthed kiss on your neck, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as he picks up the pace. It doesn’t take much, he’s so precise with his fingers, leaning into every tell your body has, reading you like an open book every time you make a sound. 

When his tongue travels over your pulse point and his thumb pays close attention to your clit, tight even circles, you don’t stand a chance. Pleasure snaps like a band, your body clamping down on his fingers. You lean up to drape yourself over him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, tucking your face in his neck. 

The arm that’s free slides along your back, brushing up and under your shirt, running his fingers along your spine and you press a kiss to his shoulder, threading your fingers through his hair. You tug on his curls, just a little, just to arch his head back a bit. 

He smiles up at you, eyes dark, lower lip wet from biting it, a visible strain in his sweatpants. You open your mouth to reply, to offer reciprocation, but then smoke in your periphery catches your attention. 

“Shit,” He mumbles, pulling away from you to turn the waffle iron off. You wince a little but a small laugh bubbles up in your chest, leftover butterflies in your stomach, cheeks warm, body feeling far too empty. 

“Can’t believe the waffles burned.” You comment lightly, running a hand through your hair. 

Nick glances at you, a small smile on his face, mischief lighting up his brown eyes. He tugs you forward, but this time, he’s got the fabric of your leggings between his fingers, yanking them off. 

“S’alright,” He replies, spreading your legs again, intending to sink his head between them, “Think I’m more of a pancakes guy anyways.” 

—

Nick is nothing like your ex, there is no place where the two converge. Period. 

—

You hate that Nick fights in the ring. Sometimes there’s gloves, other times there’s bare fists. You hate the blood and the bruises and the fact that fucking Lion bets on him like he’s a winning horse. Most of the time you can’t even watch. Like tonight. You wait in the car, everyone headed back to Nick’s afterwards to debrief, to let off steam. 

You can tell he’s pissed the moment he gets into the driver’s seat. 

There’s lines pulling his face, his shoulders tight and the muscle in his jaw feathering. There’s a bruise starting along his jawline, cuts on his cheek. You squeeze your eyes shut and your fingers dig into the plush leather. 

You don’t ask how it went because you already know. 

When you make it into his kitchen, leaning against the counter, you watch as he paces a moment, stewing, his hands shaking as he looks over at Lion. 

“It wasn’t called at the right fucking time.” 

“It was,” Lion says evenly, “The refs—”

“The fucking refs are fucked,” He snaps, his voice echoing in the space. You swear you can hear the glass in the cabinets tremble, “He threw a punch after the bell rung. What’s the point of doing any of this if it’s not going to be fair?” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be doing it at all,” You mumble, arms crossed over your chest. It’s quiet, but you can tell the moment that he hears you. His entire body goes still before he turns and rolls his shoulders, like he’s still in the ring. Like he’s itching for a fight. 

“That’s cheap coming from you, isn’t it? You won’t even step through the doors to support me.” 

Your mouth falls open at the same time Jenna hisses Nick, your response only serving to amp him up even further. 

“I’m not going to go in there and you know it.” You know why, is what you actually want to say, but you don’t give him that satisfaction. You’re calling him out on his bullshit well enough. 

Besides, you’re not the one he’s really mad at, he’s just taking his frustrations out on you. But before you can tell him how fucked up that is, Lion pipes up with a —

“You’re gonna have to fight him again, a re-match.” 

Nick explodes, the kind that he warned you about the first night you met, his arm snapping out and striking items on the kitchen counter. It’s not glass, but the reaction you have is the same. A plastic fruit bowl spins and hits the cabinets, oranges rolling out of it, a set of papers flutter to the floor like birds, and something cracks loudly against a chair, someone’s iPhone maybe. 

It doesn’t matter what it is because you go rigid, eyes wide as you stare at the items on the floor. He runs both of his hands through his hair, his gaze finding your face when you let out a short breath out of your mouth, attempting to unhook your shoulders from your ears. Nick looks at the floor and then back to you, muttering shit under his breath. 

He takes a step towards you, “Y/N,” and you mimic one back, keeping space between you. A defense mechanism but it doesn’t stop that look from sliding onto his face, regret replacing anger, concern replacing frustration. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Nick says, voice pinched, “I’m sorry—I didn’t—”

You shake your head, putting your hand up so he stops talking. You need space, you need to go outside and take a breath. You slip out of the kitchen towards the pool and Nick must try to follow you because you hear Jenna stop him in his tracks— just leave her alone for a little while, man.  

He’ll come find you though. He always does.

—

You debate leaving but end up sitting by the pool instead. Your legs are drawn up against your chest, fingers dragging through the water, chin resting on one of your knees. You hear and feel him more than see him come out onto the pool deck. 

“Can I join you?” He asks, hovering. 

You know that if you told him no he’d respect that, he’d listen.. But you can’t, even though a small part of you wishes you could. You nod softly, not looking at him, waiting for him to slide down beside you. He’s facing you, one leg in the pool, one curled up underneath him. He smells like clean soap, fresh clothes—he must have showered and changed to give you some time. You ache to run your fingers through his damp curls, to touch him somehow. But you don’t. 

It’s quiet for a while, just the sound of your shared breathing and your fingers gliding through the water. 

Nick clears his throat, “I have a temper, I’ve always had it.” Since his mom, are the unspoken words. “Despite how hard I try to bury it…it seems to always find its way to the surface.” His voice is soft, gentle, as if he’s afraid he might spook you, that you might run. “It’s why I’m good at racing or fighting.”  

You know this, you know he has an anger inside of him that sprouts like weeds, recognizes it in him like you did your ex…even though they are not the same, will never be the same. Nick has talked to you about his mom countless times, you’ve met her and Maddie and know that they’re working on their relationship. They’re in a good place, despite the emotions that Nick still feels sometimes. Maybe they’ll always be there. 

He tentatively reaches for your hand, and when you allow him to touch you, he tugs your laced fingers to rest in his lap. He traces circles around your knuckles, “Look at me.” 

You breathe out through your nose, turning your gaze away from the pool and meeting his eyes. You’re struck by him, always have been, you think. Ever since you ran into him at that party. There must be a soft pout to your lips because he brushes his other thumb along the corner of your mouth.

“It’s not something I’m particularly proud of. But I know I don’t want to see that look on your face ever again.” He shakes his head, ripping his gaze from yours, as if he’s embarrassed. You know what he’s talking about. Fear. What must have been on your face—it’s not something that can be helped, no matter how much you’ve been working on it.

“Not because of me.” 

You swallow over a lump in your throat over that, over the fact that Nick, at the core of his being, wants to protect you. Despite his rough demeanor, despite the fact that he sometimes leads too much with his fists or can have a nasty set of words for someone, he’s good deep down. Something your ex never was. 

You squeeze his hand back, reaching out to touch his cheek. You angle his face up, running your thumb over his cheekbone, 

You don’t say that it’s okay, because it’s not, but you do want him to know, “I trust you.” You say after a moment. It is not something you give easily, something that’s definitely earned. And Nick has. He holds your gaze after that, a soft nod, turning his chin into your palm. His nose and lips brush the love line on your hand and he presses a kiss there. 

“C’mere.” He whispers, encouraging you closer, to sit on his lap. You fold into him easily, as if you’ve always fit there. 

–

There’s a long sigh out of your mouth as you move from your spot on the couch to get the front door when there’s a series of knocks. You kinda hope it’ll go away, but your parents aren’t home to check. There’s a twinge in your nose and a headache building behind your eyes, the worst head cold you’ve had for a while. Exhausted, slightly nauseous, throat sore, and kinda ready to throw hands at whoever is making you answer the front door when you could be passed out on a bunch of pillows and blankets. 

“Coming!” You call out, rubbing your throat, “Sheesh.” 

Without looking at the small video monitor for security set up next to the door, you yank it open, getting ready to give whoever is selling something a piece of your mind. But then you stop, blinking, because it’s—

“What are you doing here?” Your voice croaks, Nick wincing at the sound. 

He’s in a pair of sweats, a white t-shirt, and oversized jacket, a pair of sunglasses pushed up into his curls as he takes a look at you. Your cheeks are flushed thanks to being sick, but you feel like your fever has kicked up a notch under the careful inspection. You have no idea what you look like, but you can guess it’s a mess. 

“Jenna said you weren’t feeling well,” He steps forward and when he does you notice he’s got a paper bag in his hand. “Though I’m wondering why you didn’t tell me that yourself.” 

You rub the back of your neck—you really just…didn’t want to be a burden. “I didn’t want you to get sick.” Is what you say instead, which isn’t exactly a lie. 

“Well,” Nick hums, brushing his fingers through your hair, “Lucky for you, I have an impeccable immune system.” 

You crinkle your nose, fit to argue with him, but the moment you open your mouth, you turn and sneeze. A small smirk sounds from Nick when you groan. “Bless you.” 

You straighten your shoulders, rubbing some of your fingers against your temple as you turn to look at Nick. You want to tell him that it’s not necessary, that he doesn’t need to do anything extra for you, regardless that he’s here already. But at the same time, you also know he’s stubborn—he’s not going anywhere. And what’s the harm of allowing someone to take care of you? 

Your ex never would have showed up like this. The moment you’d let him know you were sick, he’d make a joke to keep a distance. Maybe that’s why, subconsciously, you never even thought to let your current boyfriend know you were struggling. 

“You better have a miracle cure in that bag,” You tease, the lightness in your voice covered by congestion. “I’d settle for tissues.” 

Nick reaches into the bag and pulls out a whole box. A whole box of tissues that have lotion in them. He gives you a small, knowing smile. 

“Did I mention you’re my favorite person?” You ask, snagging the box. You open it up, taking some tissues out. 

Nick breezes past you with a kiss to your temple, “I know—but reminders are always appreciated.” 

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. 

Not only does this man make you soup, and make sure you have cold-relief meds, but in that paper bag of wonders he has one of those heatable stuffed animals, the ones that you can put in the microwave and smell like lavender (if you could breathe through your nose). You settle into the couch, the half-eaten soup on the coffee table as a movie plays in the background. You’ve kind of lost the plot, your eyes falling closed as you’re surrounded by some pillows and blankets, the warmed-up stuffed fox pressed to your abdomen. Nick’s seated in the corner of the couch, arm stretched out along the back—you’ve been trying to keep your distance but…god, he really looks comfortable.

He smiles a little in soft amusement, as if he can read your mind, his eyes sliding over to yours. His lips quirk, tilting his head a bit in his direction, 

“C’mon.” 

You shake your head, “I really don’t—” 

“Get over here,” He interrupts, leaning over to wrap his arm around your waist and tug until you're pressed against his side. You don’t fight it, a shiver wracking down your spine as you settle against him. “Cold?” 

You nod, fitting against his side, underneath his arm, tucking your face into his shoulder. You wish you could breathe him in, that comforting scent of his expensive cologne mixed with something that’s just purely him. He helps you adjust the blanket, his hand settling on your thigh with a gentle squeeze. His other hand threads his fingers through your hair in a way that’s meant to put you to sleep. 

“You’re gonna get sick.” You mumble, eyes fluttering closed. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “Don’t worry about me.” 

But you do. And he does. 

But it’s nice being able to take care of him too. 

—

Sometimes you sleep over. It’s one of those things that happen naturally—hanging out with friends, messing around in the pool, playing darts near the garage, coming back from a party, curled up watching a movie. Tonight is no different, except you’re a little drunk. You sit down on the edge of the bed, the room spinning slightly, Nick passing you a t-shirt of his to tug on. You love how it lays on you, the fabric unbelievably soft. 

He lingers in front of you, a smirk on his lips, tipping your chin up and leaning down just enough to brush a kiss over your temple, “You need help?” 

You let out a long, dramatic sigh that flutters your lips. It turns into a slight pout, “I need a kiss.”

Nick hums, his eyes appraising you, “Yeah? Where at?” 

And you hate how that makes you squirm. You squeeze your legs together, an action not missed by him, before pointing to your cheek. He licks his lips, crouching to press one right where you’ve requested. His fingers curl under your shirt, lifting it off in one fluid motion. He crouches before you, hands on your knees, waiting. 

You smile a little, skin warm, pointing to your shoulder blade. He follows through and you can’t stop yourself from running your fingers through his hair, his hands moving to splay along your waist, squeezing. That heat between your legs dips, tugs, hums. 

“Where else?” 

“I’ve definitely got some ideas but could you tell the room to stop spinning for a second?” 

Nick smiles, fingers moving to the button on your jeans. “Can I take these off?” 

Always with the permission. Always with making sure you’re okay. It’s something that’s so deeply important to you, something you’ve never told him. And yet he knows. 

“Need you to help me out,” He undoes the button and you stand on wobbly legs, hand holding onto his shoulder for support. He slides them off and tosses towards a chair in the corner. You sit back down, running your hands over your face, which probably smears your makeup ridiculously. 

You touch to the right of your belly button, “Here please.” 

Nick smiles, shaking his head a little. “Only because you were so polite.” 

You bite down on your tongue when he does it, when he kisses you there, swallowing the cheeky response that you know he’d do it anyways. 

He slips lower, kissing the side of your knee without you asking. Just because he wants to. He then leans back on his heels, giving you a onceover before taking the shirt he handed you, helping to slide it over your arms. Pressing a few kisses to your cheeks, mostly just to make you laugh, he pulls away. 

There’s definitely an audible whine you’ll deny making later. 

“I’m getting a washcloth for your face,” He laughs softly too, taking your hand to squeeze, “Get your makeup off.” 

You shake your head—wow, how’d you get so lucky? 

“Think it’s the other way around.” He assures you as he heads to his bathroom and you blink—apparently you said that outloud. 

As you wash the makeup off your face, Nick changes out of his clothes, a simple t-shirt and briefs. He tugs down the comforter and helps you under the covers, tugging them back up to your chin. It’s one of those moments that feels so intimate that your chest hurts a little. You lie on your side, not facing him, and he hooks his chin over your shoulder. 

“You okay?” He whispers, arm sliding around your waist. Your fingers lace together in an easy motion. 

“Perfect.” You reply, already dozing. By the time he turns the light out, you’re fast asleep. 

—

It’s one of those parties in which you can’t keep your hands off eachother. 

Nick’s obviously a tactile person, he talks but he says more with his actions, with his touch. A possessive hand on your waist, a protective arm around your back, a brush of a kiss to your temple, a cheeky nip of your lower lip. You can read him like a secret language, a message whispered in the dark. And you love that you can so easily reply in kind. A hand sneaking up and under his jacket to rest on his toned back, slipping your fingers into his back pocket to grab his ass, hooking your ankle around his under a table, a kiss to his cheek when you’re excited, his hair when he falls asleep on your chest. 

Tonight is no different. 

You separate for one instance so you can head to the bathroom and when you come out, you bump into someone who is waiting. 

“Shit sorry,” You apologize with a smile before raising your eyebrows. The guy you practically checked shoulders with is holding a book. A book at a party. And like, no judgement, obviously, but…it’s really the last thing you expected. 

“No worries,” He’s tall and kinda lanky, but soft looking, attractive in his own way. He smiles down at you, a sheepish hand rubbing the back of his neck as he catches you looking at his book. “Summer classes,” He admits, “Organic chem.” 

“Gross,” You offer with a soft laugh and he grins. 

“Yeah, not exactly party material. I’m trying to relax but uh, not the best at it.” 

“Well I’d put down the chemistry book, for starters.” You smile and you can tell he’s about to open his mouth and ask for something, maybe to offer to get you a drink, maybe something else. You’ll never know because you see Nick just past where this guy is standing. 

His gaze is set on you, never looking away once, but you can tell he must have noticed this guy towering over you because an arm slides around your waist, hand squeezing your hip. A clear message to anyone who might be confused. 

“Was wondering where you went.” And you raise your eyebrows at that, as if he doesn’t know you went to the bathroom. 

“Well you found me.” When Nick turns to look at you, there’s a heat to his eyes that almost takes your breath away. You can’t help but gaze back, like the darkness that you find is capable of pulling you under, under. 

Tall guy lets out an awkward laugh, snapping his textbook closed. “Well just gonna—” He motions to the bathroom but Nick takes a step towards it with you in tow, pressing you towards the doorframe and then steps in front, effectively blocking your body with his own. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna need to find another bathroom,” He tells him, leaning his palms against the doorframe. A soft laugh bubbles up in your chest as you lean against the sink, running a hand along the side of your face. 

Textbook guy blinks, makes an uh noise with his lips—and when he just stands there looking confused, Nick snaps out, “Fuck off.” 

And slams the door in his face. 

Your hand covers your mouth as Nick turns, taking measured steps towards you as you lean back against the sink. Feels sturdy enough—it’s one of those built-in counter ones, plenty of space for toiletries. 

“Textbook guy was nice, you know?” You inform him, a smirk mapping your lips as Nick leans in, encroaching on your space. He encourages you to lean back a little as he cages your body with his own, arms on either side of you. 

He whispers into your ear, “I don’t care.” 

When he pulls back a bit, your noses brush and you lift your hand to play with a curl on his forehead. Amusement sits on your tongue, heat between your legs, “Didn’t know you could get jealous.” 

Nick’s gaze lands on your lips. You expect him to deny it, but instead he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, dragging it out, nipping at your lower lip with his teeth. Then he kisses you completely, slotting his own body along your own, tongue sliding into your mouth. The moment you moan is when he sinks his hands into your hair, keeping you close. Your own glide down his sides, digging into the fabric of his jeans, tugging—

A sharp noise, a groan from the back of his throat, sets little electric zips along your skin. 

You can feel the hardness of him against your hip and breathing patterns change, just a little uneven, pulling back so that your lips fall to his neck. Your hand wanders, one destination, undoing his jeans so that you can slip inside. 

“So,” You whisper, tilting your head back, getting a good look at him. Your fingers wrap around him, beginning to palm his cock. His pupils are blown as he licks his lips—you can feel the twitch of his hips, driving him a bit forward. Your thumb works at the bead of moisture at his tip, back and forth, down along him. 

You smile, “Yes to being jealous?”

His hand slips around the back of your neck, squeezing a little, gathering a bit of your hair in the process. It’s barely a tug, barely any pain, and yet heat shocks down your spine, settling in your core. 

“Of anyone who makes you laugh like that.” 

And for some reason that reaches into the center of your chest and squeezes. You can’t find the words to reply. So you don’t. 

Luckily both of you are both attune at speaking without saying anything at all. 

Your other hand rests on the side of his face, your thumb brushing over his lips before kissing him again. 

It doesn’t take long after that. Nick helps gets his jeans down, peeling your skirt up, practically ripping your underwear to get them out of his fucking way. He presses you back against the sink, it’s not the most comfortable—the edge is biting into your muscles, but at this point it just adds to the pleasure that’s already building in your lower belly. He lifts your leg a little, holding you, sliding forward until his cock brushes against your entrance. 

“Nick,” You moan and that one word has him pushing inside. 

Your head tips forward, forehead ending up on his shoulder, rolling your hips until he’s completely inside of you. It’s not as drawn out as you want, but you know it’s only a matter of time until someone comes knocking on this bathroom. You hike your leg up a little more, encouraging him deeper as he moves, as much as you can at this angle. It’s too fast, a little too hard, and the movements are a little too desperate. 

But fuck if that stops you from cumming hard. 

The moment Nick’s mouth finds your neck and sucks while his one hand not holding you slips between, fingers circling your clit, you lose it. 

Your body clenches around him and you bury your face in his shoulder, clinging to him as ripples of pleasure slam into you. Your fingers dig into his back and there’s two more thrusts forward until Nick loses himself as well, a soft tremble following as both of you breathe one another in, wait for pulses to slow, for breathing to settle. 

He pulls back slightly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, curling your hair around your ear. A soft smile tugs the corner of your mouth and you slowly turn a bit to face yourself in the mirror. 

Jesus. You’re really not fooling anyone—you look utterly wrecked. Your hair is mussed, face flushed, and you attempt to fix a bit of yourself as Nick cleans himself up and grabs a washcloth on the shower cabinet near the mirror. He dampens it in the sink before crouching, cleaning up your inner thighs. You let out a slow breath as he drags the fabric along your cunt, gentle and yet tortuous. 

Nick licks his lips, looking at you in the mirror, settling his chin on your shoulder. You find his gaze in the reflection, his one hand coming up and resting on the side of your neck. His thumb brushes a blooming hickey near your pulse point. His eyes never leave yours, 

“In case there’s any further confusion for anyone.” 

When you run into the textbook guy again later that night, Nick’s arm draped lazily over your shoulders as he talks to Lion, your boyfriend doesn’t seem to mind this time around when you ask him with a teasing lilt how organic chem is going. 

He zeros in on your neck right away, and Nick fucking smirks. 

—

Maybe the warning labels, the explosion, the danger you both once spoke of isn't exactly what you assumed. It's not that you'd end up being bad for one another, or somehow get in the other's way. It's not the underground fighting ring or the racing or past trauma with your ex. It's something deeper, emotionally grounded, something that's capable of taking you out right at your knees. You knew love had teeth, you just didn't realize you could be devoured by it. 

The way you care about Nick bites into you and doesn't let go. 

You're quiet as you clean up the tiny cuts on Nick's knuckles, using a bit too much antiseptic but not relishing in the way he winces. You can't meet his gaze, even though you know he's trying to capture yours. Seated side by side on the edge of his bed, you let out a long breath before setting the bloody cotton ball aside and grabbing another. 

Stupid re-match that Lion set up. Nick won, but that's not really the point. 

You waited outside in the car, eventually getting out to pace, leaning back against the driver's door until they all came out. A split lip, a blackening mark underneath his eye on his cheekbone, bruised ribs and cut-up knuckles. 

You hate this. You hate it so fucking much. You're practically buzzing with this anger but know better than to speak. Nick seems to know better too, because he's utterly still beside you. Curling your hair around your ear, you set another used cotton ball aside—you can’t use bandages on these small cuts. They’re not that bad, he doesn’t need any, and yet…leaving them open like this makes your chest ache. You can’t patch them up, but…maybe an ice pack wouldn’t hurt. For his ribs at least. 

When you move to stand, Nick’s fingers gently wrap around your wrist, a silent plea not to move. You close your eyes, can feel yourself trembling—

It’s not so much the blood. It’s seeing him hurt. It fucking guts you. Even though he’s okay, you know he’s okay. It doesn’t make it any easier. 

“I really wish you’d stop doing this,” You eventually say, your words sounding too loud in the silence. Too choked. That anger from before unfortunately fizzles out into the real emotion it was hiding: concern. “All—all it takes is one wrong hit and—” You sniffle, cutting yourself off. 

Nick lets out a long sigh through his nose before a gentle nod follows. He inches himself closer to you on the bed, until your knees bump together, his hand wrapping along the back of your neck. Despite wanting to pull away, wanting to create distance, he encourages you to lean into him. You relent as if it’s not the easiest thing you’ve ever done, pressing your forehead to his shoulder. 

He tips his chin down, his face burying itself in your hair, and he keeps you close until you stop shaking. 

–

That’s the last fight Nick’s in, he tells Lion not to involve him in any others. 

–

Admittedly, cars have never really been your thing. You admire them, you appreciate the work that some people put into them, or how much someone is willing to pay to enhance them, but they’ve never been something to spend your own money on. You upkeep the Jeep that your parents bought you on your eighteenth birthday, and that’s always been enough. 

Nick though? He loves his cars. Has a full garage of them. A collector, an enthusiast, and you love that about him. One of the many things. Love that you can learn something new about something he’s clearly passionate about. 

He’s got a love-hate relationship with your Jeep though. 

“She’s ol’reliable.” 

Nick just crinkles his nose. 

“Don’t look down on Donna like that.”

“Please do not call your jeep that.” 

You giggle, “Donna is timeless.” 

“Donna sounds like an old bitty who’s been working too long at the corner diner. She smells like grease and has menus sticking to her hands.” 

Now you laugh something bold and bright and it twitches the corners of Nick’s mouth. “Hater.” 

He pulls you into a kiss, pressing your back against the door of your Jeep. He certainly trusts it enough for that. 

Though, this is what you get for calling your Jeep ‘dependable’ and ‘reliable’, speaking too soon when she conks out on the side of the road. You attempt to restart her a few times but finally groan and give up, slipping out of the driver’s seat. You’ve put a lot of money into her but…Nick’s freaky car-sense about her is right—not ol’reliable in the least. 

Pursing your lips, you press on Nick’s name, listening to the line trill. He picks up on the third ring, “What’s wrong?” 

You purse your lips, “I can’t just call you because I miss you?” 

Nick hums, “Donna died, didn’t she.” It is not a question. 

You scoff out a sound, “You gotta make it sound so final like that?” 

He sighs but you can hear the smile in his voice as he speaks, fabric rustling in your ear as well. You picture him in bed, maybe reading, getting up to get his shoes. “Where are you?” 

You drop a pin and it doesn’t take him too long to get to your location. You hear the rumble of an engine before you see him, a sleek red car pulling up beside poor Donna. A tow truck is not far behind and you smile sweetly at your boyfriend as the door pops up and Nick steps out. 

“Hate to break it to you but I think it’s time for Donna to visit the car lot in the sky.” 

Your lips form a pout and Nick smirks out a soft laugh, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks. He presses a brief kiss to your lips, turning to watch as the tow truck parks behind Donna and begins to wheel her into place. 

He stretches his arm over your shoulders, drawing you close to brush another kiss to your temple, “C’mon,” He motions towards his car, “I’m sure she’ll be well taken care of.”

“You’re probably hoping they’ll take her to a scrap lot and squish her with one of those car crushers.” 

“I would never.” 

He places his hands on your shoulders, encouraging you forward until you get inside the passenger door. He closes it behind you, slipping into the driver’s seat. A dramatic sigh leaves your lips as you lean back into the seat, the smell of expensive leather and his cologne comforting, despite leaving Donna behind. You rest your head back against the headrest, a small smile on your face as your eyes drink in his profile. 

“Where can we go?” You’re not in the mood to go home. 

Nick turns his head to look at you, a gentle smile, his one hand on the wheel while the other rests on your knee. “Anywhere.” 

You can’t help but smile back—you love the sound of that. 

[wander-lustrous]

germanics as bfs

part 1

ft. germany, prussia, austria, switzerland

germany // ludwig beilschmidt.

- This man struggles to settle down in a committed relationship, preferring flings and quick one-night stands. It's not because he's against it, but rather he thinks it's hard to find someone to accommodate his… specific tastes in the bedroom; plus he's so busy he can't imagine fitting a partner into his life. But once he has a partner, he is SO committed. Like planning-your-one-year-anniversary-getaway-a-month-into-the-relationship kind of committed. He tries not to go overboard with it, but he does enjoy thinking about hitting these milestones.

- Ironically he ends up getting in relationship with friends, his coworkers, people he spends the most time around with, most likely in a work setting. He’s a stickler for the rules though, which makes him hesitant to blur the boundaries between work and his personal life. However, once he starts really noticing this person--maybe the way they're always dressed nice, or hardworking, or always has a smile for him--he's fucked. They invade his thoughts at the most random moments, and it makes him want to avoid them. Thankfully he has friends (cough Italy cough) who notice his little crush and persuade him to do something about it.

- Please don’t even mention wanting to get fit to this man. He goes overboard, devising a workout plan, a nutrition regimen, etc. He can be a bit draconic with it too, wanting to push you to be your best.

- While he's not the most emotionally available partner, he is the most reliable. If you complain that your heater not working, he's fixed it by the next day. If you're nervous about approaching your boss about an issue, he suggests you practice with him. If you're sick, he's getting you all the Vitamin C packets, soup, and tissues he can find, stocking you up with them before leaving for work.

-He's rather touch-starved, so he appreciates a partner who is more tactile. He loves when they hug him from behind, or let him rest his head on their lap and card their fingers through his hair. It's the one moment where he doesn't feel like he has to be quite so uptight.

prussia // gilbert beilschmidt.

- He is so the type to be in a friends with benefits situation. He's pretty clueless about romance. 💀 Or not clueless, but... willfully ignorant. He’s more likely to fall into a relationship by being buddies with someone, then sleeping with them, and a few months in realizing oh shit. He actually really likes them. Like more than as a bro.

- Gilbert is nothing if not crafty, so he wants to figure out what you think of him first. He asks around--your friends, other nations, etc. If you ever talk about him, if they know if you're dating someone else, etc. It's so funny because it's painfully obvious to everyone else that he has a thing for you. In fact, Gilbert is possibly the last person to realize you two are a thing...

- He is actually very easy to please. Just praise him. He’s used to hyping himself up to make sure no one forget him. It means the world when someone genuinely thinks he’s great or awesome. A sure fire way to get him emotional is if you cancel plans with your friends to hang out with him. Of course he’s old and he wants you to go have fun! To live a little. But saying that he’s exactly your kind of fun is enough to have him getting a misty-eyed before hurriedly saying that it’s allergies or something.

- He's a very fun boyfriend. He's never quite let go of his childish side. He is very much the type to make pillow forts with you and/or play co-op with you video games. For movie nights, he enjoys picking movies that he thinks will scare you so you'll end up clinging to him, asking him to protect you. The reality is, if anything he is the one getting more disturbed by the kinds of movies they put out nowadays, more than you do. 💀

- In public, he's definitely walking around with an arm around your shoulder. He's just so excited that everyone will know he has such a smoking hot partner.

-You know what, Gilbert is surprisingly good at comforting you. Part of it is experience, but if you're upset, he's not letting it go. He'll keep pestering you to open up to him. And when you finally do, he'll hug you to him, stroking your hair and calling you affectionate nicknames while reassuring you that as your great boyfriend, he'll certainly deal with any of your problems...

austria // roderich edelstein.

- He composes songs about you. He can get quite in a tizzy due to his perfectionist streak, appearing visibly agitated if the song isn’t going exactly how he wants it to.

- He is a strong believer in having dinner together if you’re living together! he thinks it’s a good habit to get into.

- Roderich is actually quite sweet. He sends you good morning and good night texts, and always texts you throughout the day on your lunch breaks, etc., asking how certain appointments or events went in your life.

- Roderich is a fan of appearances, and he is definitely getting you several high-quality Swarovski gifts. It doesn't matter that he's secretly a cheapskate who patches holes in his underwear--he wants you to only have the finest.

- Do you know those people who flirt via critiquing you? That's Roderich. With you, he's never actually cruel though.

-He is the perfect gentleman when dating you. Always pulling out the chair for you, paying for you, etc.

-He likes receiving massages from his partner. He's also a fan of relaxing in the tub, with scented oils and incense.

- He likes people who are quick-witted, fast enough to catch onto his sarcasm.

- He enjoys taking you to the opera, or to see plays or theater performances. He feels like the arts are not nearly as important as they once were.

- One of his favorite hobbies is to people watch with you. The two of you will sit down at a cafe, have some tea, and just make observations about the people around you. For him sometimes it’s great inspo for music. Other times it’s just great fodder for gossip lol.

switzerland // vash zwingli.

- His love language is definitely acts of service and gift-giving. He likes making you gifts or bringing you gifts his country specializes in. Watches, chocolates, etc.

- Of course you’re going to have to have annual trips to the Alps. He’ll do his best to teach you how to ski, but he’s not exactly the patient… he’ll be damned before Italy or that damn France try and teach you though.

- On the rare occasions he goes out to eat, he likes to get fondue. He thinks it’s somewhat intimate to eat with another.

- When he gets drunk, he’s actually kind of a sloppy drunk. He never really gets drunk though; he can hold his beers. He also tends to be the one to keep things together if you get too tipsy. He wants to ensure he can take care of you.

- He is very impartial, so if you want an honest opinion he’ll give it to you. Even if you’re his partner, he will call you out on your behavior as a neutral third-party💀 In his opinion it’s more important for you to grow than for him to coddle you.

- He has such a hard time with letting people know you’re dating. He doesn’t like other people getting in his business; he prefers his privacy. At first, he refers to you as a business partner, then as Lily’s friend, and then as his friend… and then eventually, when he sees another nation flirting with you, he decides it’s time to make it clear you’re taken for, and wraps a protective arm around your waist.

- He likes giving forehead kisses. Sometimes regular kisses feel almost too intimate for him. Plus when you make eye contact after ending a kiss… he gets a bit flustered. He likes that a forehead kiss is quick and easy but does the job. It’s… efficient even.

- He would definitely teach you how to shoot if you were up for it. He wants you to be able to defend yourself.

- The biggest indicator of whether you two will last in a relationship is if you get along with Lily and treat her like your own little sister. If not, Vash doesn’t see this relationship progressing and will cut things off.

[emdeerm]

Idea!

Whomst???

So, let's take canon Danny Phantom. We can even take the AGIT, that would only make him canonically 16-17is for this scenario. (Btw, poor Val. I'm seriously so sorry for her)

Danny is flying around the Infinite Realms to familiarise himself with it better. Look, if he decided to be the Bridge, he has to learn more about the Ghost side of his life. Their customs, quirks, limits, world... from someone who isn't a Fruitloop or his parents. He is still ashamed that it took meeting Dairy King to finally realise that not all Ghosts are evil.

He got to a section of many, many, MANY, natural portals that led into completely different universes. Most of them even had Heroes!!!! He was so exited!

He visited many in the next few months. Made friends, confused the heck out of locals. Made some enemies, cause that's just his life.

Spiderman was cool! Iron Man was so fun to prank, the guy was a billionaire and hilarious.

Even if he never was able to speak with the vast majority, those Japanese Heroes with cool superpowers were awesome. He was kinda glad his world was normal-is tho. Call him judgmental, but come on, look him in the eyes and tell him that you wouldn't be weirded out by some of the mutations.

And now, he spotted his new target. From what he gathered, they were an urban legend of the gloomy as heck city. Robins,... bats? or something. Time to make friends!

And close the leakage of the Raw, unfiltered ectoplasm into here. He had only been around one for an hour and he saw how problematic it was.

Aka

Danny is a gremlin in canon. He found cool portals. He will make it other's problem.

Yes, he keeps his identity hidden. No, he doesn't stay invisible all the time. Only initially to get some info. After that? You'd spot him openly bothering the superheroes. And rogues. Can't let them be left out.

What are they gonna do? Kill him? They can't even touch him most of the time.

[thebestsetter]

The emperor's bad luck

An: This is actually my first fic! Also, english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry for any spelling mistakes! I just read Kaiser's backstory and got really sad. HE'S JUST A BABY 😭😭

Michael Kaiser has never been a lucky guy. And I'm not talking about that kind of luck of finding a penny on the floor or getting a question right even though you don't know the answer. I'm talking about a luck that is harder to be found nowadays: the luck to be born with a great family, with loving parents and awesome siblings. The kind of family that you see on magazine covers or billboards, smiling and having fun together, looking like they've never had a bad time.

His mother left him when he was just a baby. A Hollywood actress who has probably already acted as a mother in a movie, although not in real life with her own son: ironic, isn't it? She looked like an angel, with pretty blond hair and beautiful blue eyes, but her looks didn't reflect her personality: a cunning and clever woman.

So, she came up with a plan to make her fame grow: she laid down with a movie director. After she became more famous, she left the man all alone. Well, maybe not ALL alone. She left him with their son: Michael Kaiser. But the man didn't appreciate it and often abused Kaiser. For every mistake Michael made, he hit and tortured the poor boy. When Kaiser was barely 8, his father started sending him to the streets to steal food and other things, since the man couldn't really work because he began drinking (he also didn't want to work, and sending his kid to steal things was a lot easier).

- Now go, Kaiser! - the man said while waving a broken beer bottle in the air - and don't come back without that milk you forgot last time, or else I won't be as gentle with your punishment.

Michael grabbed the backpack his father handed him and ran out of his "home", not wanting to spend another second with that man.

"They found out I stole from that shop" Kaiser thought while looking at the shop he stole from the last time he went on his 'robbery spree' "so I have to find another one".

He then began walking across the neighbourhood trying to find somewhere to steal from. The blond boy came across a new shop he had never seen before: it was a small shop with red colored walls. The german child decided that was the one he was going to rob. Passing his small hands through the shelves full of things he couldn't even think of buying, Kaiser shoved the important things down his bag, such as eggs, butter and other things. He then came across the dairy session. Reaching for the milk, Michael quickly grabbed it and hid it into his bag, wanting to get out of there before he got caught, when suddenly he heard a gasp coming from behind him.

- Are you stealing milk? - a (h/c)nette girl said, startling Kaiser and causing him to drop the bag from his hands, making all the items of his backpack spread across the floor. Scared, he began to pick his things and stuff them back on the bag - hey, what are you doing? COME BACK HERE!

The girl began to chase him around the store while begging him to stop running. After some time, she finally caught up with him.

- I-I'm sorry - he said, panting - p-please don't turn me in! I need to steal to s-survive. My father doesn't work and my mother left me with him. I'm sorry, but I need this things!

- Don't worry, I won't report you! - she said, smiling - my father is the owner of the shop. I can give you some cookies and snacks to go and won't turn you in, but with one condition: you need to answer the question I wanted to ask you when I saw you stealing the milk.

- O-okay - he said in a calmer tone - what is it?

- Do you wanna be my friend? - she asked, her toothy grin appearing and almost blinding Kaiser because of how big and bright it was

- W-what? - he asked, making the girl repeat herself - sure, I guess…

- GREAT! You're my friend now! Come on, I'm gonna give you something to eat.

The girl gave Michael some snacks (without her father seeing them, of course) from that shelves that had things he thought he'd never get to eat and went to the door of the store to say goodbye to him.

- Bye hm… - she began, then gasped - You're my friend, but I don't know your name!

- I'm Michael Kaiser - he said, clearly a lot more confident around the girl, but still a little weary

- I'm (Name) (Last name) - she smiled, glad that she made a new friend - bye, Michael! Come here tomorrow again so we can play!

- (NAME)! COME HELP ME OUT IN THE SHOP! - they heard her father yell

- COMING - the girl shouted and waved goodbye to Kaiser for the last time before disappearing inside her family's shop.

Althought Kaiser was a guy that didn't have a great luck, he considered himself lucky for finding her: his first friend ever since he was born. And for the first time in a few years, Kaiser went to sleep with a full stomach and a happy mind, with a new found hope in his soul: a hope for a better future, with friends like (Name) (or maybe even her, if his luck suddenly decided to change) at his side.

[intairnwetrust]

You know I am usually someone to easily call out Xaden (especially on his communication issues in Iron Flame *cough* call out *cough* lol )

But now I actually need to defend him in regards of what he said and how some people receive it:

"In the years after my father died, I forgot what it felt like to be loved. [...] But then you (Violet) gave those words to me, and I remembered..."

And then you have responses like:

Garrik, Liam, Bodhi, Imogen: What I am? A roach?

Basically pointing the finger at Xaden, what about your friends who love you?

Where I need to say okay first valid or rather understandable response.

Buuut I think people are to harsh here on Xaden. I'm deliberately simplifying this here, Xaden's life consisted of two parts, the revolution and survival. Violet gave him love outside of that. It was something new, something, looking at the quote above, he didn't even knew in the beginning he wanted or maybe didn't dare to want. (Also Violet is awesome! Who can blame him? Edit: and look his new BC he is a total simp for her, as he should be)

"Now, Riorson."

I can't keep from wincing. She never uses my last name. Maybe it's because she doesn't like to remember that I'm Fen Riorson's son, and all my father cost her, but I've always been Xaden to her. The loss feels like a bottomless abyss, like a death blow.

"I've always been Xaden to her" and look how shattered poor boy was when he thought he lost that. With Violet he was not Fen Riorson's son, he was not his last name which symbolizes the proclamation of the revolution, the continued existence of the revolution. He was just Xaden with Violet. Just a man.

But now let's look at his love for his friends and at the beginning of the very same letter which brings you an understanding of his feelings

"Then I entered the quadrant and became the monster everyone needed me to be, and I never regretted it."

Who is everyone? Every person being part of the revolution. He consciously tried to forget the feeling of love because that would help the revolution best. Cold and calculating. But who is also part of the revolution? His friends. With his friends he was also Xaden, but not only. The revolution became a huge part of their lives.

I think with his friends their love and loyalty became the same thing for him. That's why Xaden said only when Violet came along he remembered what love meant. Don't get me wrong, in a healthy relationship it goes hand in hand but it's not the same and I think it just became too blurry over time and given circumstances alas being key figures in a revolution.

Also I understand when people say they want to see more of Xaden's friendships, same I am no different, but the lack of these relationships is due to the fact that the books are currently only from Violet's POV, after all they are Xaden's friends and not hers. I mean every chapter we had in his POV there were always interactions with his friends (except his chapter at the end of IF) and we can all agree we loved them (I hope so lol)

I hope it makes sense what i am trying to say i just think people are to harsh here on Xaden became in the end of the day he cares for his friends. Both sides would go through hell for the other, if you look at their lives you can safely say it's their "I love you"

[disneytva]

CTN Expo is this weekend as usual TONIGHT attendees will have "Opening The Show with Disney" showcasing a sneak peek of the 2025 slate from Walt Disney Animation Studios, Pixar Animation Studios, Disney Television Animation, Disney Junior Education & Inclusion, Marvel Animation and Disney EMEA Animation followed by a screening of Moana 2.

Walt Disney Animation Studios

-Zootopia 2

Pixar Animation Studios

-Win Or Lose

-Elio

Disney Television Animation

-Robogobo

-StuGo

-Phineas And Ferb Season 5

-Mickey Mouse Clubhouse+

Disney Junior Education & Inclusion

-Hey A.J!

-Iron Man and His Awesome Friends

Marvel Animation

-Your Friendly Neighboorhood Spiderman

-Eyes Of Wakanda

-Marvel Zombies

Disney EMEA Animation

-The Doomies

-The Sunnyridge 3

-Dragon Striker

[geekcavepodcast]

Marvel Free Comic Book Day 2025 Titles

May 3, 2025, marks Free Comic Book Day and Marvel has revealed the titles you can get your hands on at participating comic book shops.

Free Comic Book Day 2025: Fantastic Four / Giant-Size X-Men #1 hails from writers Ryan North, Collin Kelly, Jackson Lanzing, and Chip Zdarsky and artists Humberto Ramos, Edgar Delgado, Chip Zdarsky, and Iban Coello. Cover is by Humberto Ramos.

Free Comic Book Day 2025: Amazing Spider-Man / Ultimate Universe #1 hails from writers Joe Kelly, Deniz Camp, and Cody Ziglar and artists John Romita Jr. and Jonas Scharf. Cover is by Pat Gleason.

Free Comic Book Day 2025: Star Wars #1 hails from writers Alex Segura, Charles Soule, and Marc Guggenheim and artists Phil Noto, Luke Ross, Stefano Raffaele, and Madibek Musabekov. Cover is by Phil Noto.

Free Comic Book Day 2025: Ironheart / Marvel's Voices #1 hails from writers Justina Ireland and more and artists Julian Shaw and more. Cover is by Edwin Galmon.

Free Comic Book Day 2025: Iron Man & His Awesome Friends / Spidey & His Amazing Friends #1 is based on the Disney Jr. shows and features stories and activities.

(Images via Marvel Comics)

[d-emeter]

I LOVEEE UR WORK SM, I first saw ur like cod characters and their fave lingerie thing and I couldn't stop thinking about it omg it was so well done ur blog makes my brain all fuzzy n AAAAAA!!!! ure so amazing omg!!! <3

I don't have a specific thing but I'd LOOVEEEE some rudy content cuz omg he's so underrated <3 do wtv u please with that!!!! Like I think ure so creative so wtv u do with rudy is gonna be so so PERFECCTTT <3

Take care of urself n keep being so lovely n awesome n amazing <3<3<3<3

this ask is making my brain go fuzzy anon🥹 no but you're SO right rudy is highly underrated and i adore him

so first thing that came to mind was this twitter (?) thread with this exact scenario happening but i couldn't find the exact post anymore apologies.

Love goes through the stomach (or: you compliment Rudy's (mom's) cooking) — plus-size!fem!reader x construction worker!Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parra

CW: mama parra playing matchmaker, accidental catcalling?, google translated spanish lol

Who knew a smell could bother you so much? Well, maybe bother isn't the right word to use. No, it wasn't the smell itself that bothered you so much as the fact that you could not, for the life of you, find its source.

For the past week or so, every noon, like clockwork, the most divine scent filled your apartment and notified you of your empty stomach. Your remote job allowed you to take your lunchbreak whenever, so the first time it happened, you simply scoured your pantry for something that would qualify as lunch. It stilled your hunger, sure, but it did little to satisfy the craving for whatever mystery food you were smelling.

You had tried everything. You had scoured the takeaway app, ordering from different cuisines only to be disappointed. You had looked up recipes online with what you hoped had similar ingredients, to no avail. God, you had even stood in the spice isle of the grocery store, sniffing different pots and satchels. You were just about ready to give up your search, to accept that your mystery would remain just that; a mystery. That is, until you're on your way home from your latest grocery store expedition and walk past the construction site next to your building. You damn near freeze when you smell it — you check the time on your phone just to check, and, sure enough, it's noon. Nearly on the dot.

Your eyes scan the fenced-in site, a group of construction workers sitting idly by while eating their lunch. You're able to eliminate most of them, the ones eating simple sandwiches and drinking from soda bottles. Your target is quickly located — the man with the aluminium bundle in his hands, happily chomping away while conversing with his coworkers.

"Hey! You! Mister!"

You're all but smushed up against the iron fence, watching as all heads turn to you. You keep your eyes steadfast on the dark-haired man in the middle of them. He points a hesitant finger towards himself, questioning if it's him you're referring to.

"Yes, you! Get over here!"

With wide eyes and a growing blush on his face, Rudy rewraps the aluminium and wipes his hands on his cargo pants before making his way to you. He tries his best to ignore the grin Alejandro gives him, holding back the urge to kick him when he wolf-whistles. Unfortunately, his best friend was well aware of the stupid little crush he had grown on the pretty lady walking past every day. The same pretty lady that was now hollering on the other side of the fence. He clears his throat, trying to keep himself from looking too awkward when he reaches you.

"Can I, uh, can I help you, señorita?"

You falter a bit when he comes closer, slightly embarrassed at your outburst and a little taken aback at the realization that this man is really hot.

"Uh, yeah, I'm sorry, just- Look, this is going to sound weird, but I live in this building and I think I've been smelling your lunch and I need to know what it is, because I've been trying to figure it out and it smells so good."

It takes a second for Rudy to respond, of all the things he had expected you to say, this was not one of them. With a slightly perplexed grin, he unwraps the aluminium again to reveal his lunch to you.

"Oh, it's, uh, a burrito. My mami makes them. I'd love to tell you what's in it, but she won't even tell me. Her, uh, secret recipe." He manages out with what he hopes is a charming laugh. He can see the clear disappointment on your face, and he would have offered you some if he hadn't already eaten most of it, and he doubts you'd be very charmed by the butt of a burrito with bites taken out of it.

"Ah, dang, I was hoping it was some takeout I hadn't tried yet. Anyway, again, sorry for bothering you. Tell your mom her burritos smell great!" With that you're off again, leaving Rudy to stare after you with his half-eaten lunch in his hand. When he returns to the group, he actually does kick Alejandro when he wiggles his eyebrows.

—

You walk past the construction site again the next day. It's not necessarily on purpose that you do so around noon, but catching a whiff of the unattainable burrito again was not something you were against, even if you couldn't actually taste it yourself. You're snapped out of your burrito-induced daydream when you hear a sharp whistle. Your head snaps towards the source of the sound, an offended look on your face at the fact you seriously just got catcalled, only to come face to face with the construction worker from yesterday.

When Rudy sees your eyebrows scrunch in anger, he realizes his way of gaining your attention was maybe not the smartest thing he'd ever done, and he quickly scrambles to apologize.

"Oh, dios mio, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean- I'm sorry. Here, I-"

He hands you a bundle wrapped in aluminium foil through the gaps of the fence, hoping to God you wouldn't notice how hot his face was getting. Your eyes widen with recognition as you accept the gift.

"Oh my gosh, is this-?"

"I told my mami you complimented her cooking, and she, uh, she insisted she make you one, too. So, here." He cuts you off, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck, occasionally bumping against the edge of his hard hat.

"Thank you so much! Ugh, let her know I'm going to enjoy every bite of this!" It's almost a groan of pleasure, one that leaves Rudy more flustered than he'd like.

"Ye-yeah, will do-" You're off before he can manage to string his words together enough to ask for your number, leaving him to watch after you once again.

—

The moment you step through your front door, you unwrap the aluminium foil, groaning to yourself again as the heavenly scent fills your nostrils. Dropping your bag down, you sit at your table to really, thoroughly enjoy this experience, when you notice a white napkin poking from the wrapping. Pulling it out, you realize there's something written on it.

'Mi hijo es soltero y muy guapo. Dile a Rudy que te lleve a casa y te enseñaré la receta.'

Below that, a phone number.

translation: 'My son is single and very handsome. Tell Rudy to bring you home and I will teach you the recipe.'

[helsensm]

I cannot hold it in anymore I am absolutely OBSESSED with your art and the way you draw Lao.

I also would like to inquire….. just perhaps… what are your top head-canons for him, and/or your opinions on popular ships for him/which ones you like?

No pressure!! I hope you are having a wonderful day 🧡

me, trying to act normal every time an awesome artist I look up to says something nice about my art

Thank you so much! first of all, please take this Lao with you, he's yours now~

now let me preheat my bad english.....

Most of my Lao headcanons (if they are not related to a particular art I made) were yoinked from another ppl, because DAMN FELLAS your brains are sexy. 😏 So you might have heard some of them already, but here's my top general hcs for him.

NOTE: we are talking about the current timeline mk1 Kung Lao

- Lao is very expressive with his hands and he's THE TOUCH person. Just look at how many times he took Raiden by the shoulder in the first chapter alone?? He'll be pushing, and patting, and shoving, and punching you all over while telling about his breakfast or something.

- Lao is struggling with inferiority complex. Since childhood he was under a tremendous amount of pressure, he has to do things right, to be better, or else he would be mocked or punished. Now he believes that he should be the best, or he would not be taken seriously. He's constantly seeking validation in his peers, causing him to act cocky and over-confident.

- Anger issues, usually when someone questions his skill.

- People call him lazy because he tries to act like everything comes naturally to him. In reality he trains hard and takes things seriously. Like, he's fighting with a RAZOR RIMMED HAT fgs, it's not something you can master in a day! Also he always got energy running through his veins, lucky bastard... *cries in iron deficiency*

- He makes his hats by himself. With his hands. He designs and creates. ALL of them. I will die on that hill.

- He's a slow to trust, but ride or die as a friend.

- He's a trouble maker FOR SURE, but not a bully. He's respectful and polite to most of the people (if they don't provoke him), also drinks his respect-women juice.

- Master of sass and sarcasm. And yes, I think he swears, but in the right circumstances or the right company.

- He's got rizz NOW, but in his teens he had zero game because he could not keep his mouth shut and would scare off the person with the most ridiculous piece of idiocy.

- I read it in one fic and really loved the idea that Liu Kang "told the blossoms" about Kung Lao, and they really liked him 🌸 so now they are following him around and bringing him news and gossips, that's why there's always those goddamn petals aroung him aasghGHHHj 🌸🌸

- He's rolling his eyes at Johnny, but they quickly become besties.

- He actually has a cold relationship with Liu Kang. Don't get me wrong, he trusts him, respects the hell out of him and will run into a wall for a man. But I think Liu will distance himself because of all the memories of HIS Lao and how badly they sting. oTL

- That smile and a bow Lao did after loosing to Raiden? He meant that. Loosing hurted BAD, but the pain was pushed aside by the sence of pride and happiness for his best friend.

oh shit, this is getting out of hand, I'm starting to think about the other timelines and dynamics, we'll be here all week hhhhgh

About the popular ships... Well, I'm a big fan of railao (yeah NO SHIT who would have thought), but I am a multishipper, so I'm just happy to see my fav characters feeling good in someone's hands. 😊

I really like the liulao and laoliutana for several different reasons. 👀 The johnshilao (or is it laojohnshi..? erm) was the one that didn't impress me at first (love the Lao just third-wheeling with a tired expression <:'D), but recently I'm starting to warm up to all the different dynamics these three can have. And that is, in no small part, thanks to you and your kenlao agenda 👀💖 damn you created such a nice cozy universe for them I'm 🥺💕💗💖

Bi-Han/Lao is a bit random, but I love how catto did them, they are such a cute pair of assholes! >:3

ummm, yeah, so I'm going to stop there ahahhH. Thank you again for asking and for all the nice little feels your art provides, I admire you tremendously~

[artist-issues]

Man... just saw your "Captain America: Brave New World" post, and I gotta say I'm definitely disappointed. Unlike many, I actually liked FaTWS, and was hopefully for what they'd do with Sam as Cap. I'll probably still see the movie because I like the character and want to see if for myself, but I'll definitely be tempering my expectations....

I like FaTWS too! I didn’t find it… “disappointing” so much, maybe because I couldn’t help but feel less invested than I did with Steve. Sam just has not been built up and written with the same level of confidence and care that the writers had with Steve.

The first half of the time (Winter Soldier through Infinity War) they were just writing him as Steve Rogers, if you lifted the burden of “symbol” and “man out of time” off of him. Think about it. Sam’s whole tagline was “I do what he does, just slower.” And he’s okay with that.

When we meet Sam, he’s living a normal life despite the fact that he used to be in the “superhero” category. But he’s not in that category anymore, his wings are retired, so we find him still doing good on a more mundane, normal-person level. He counsels vets. Which is a foil to Cap’s baggage. Sam is Steve, freed. Sam is the good guy with the ability to help everybody, who does his job and has everyone’s back…but then he feels the freedom to go home at the end of the day and do good as a normal guy, too. Steve doesn’t have that. Steve can’t have that, until he learns his lesson at the end of Endgame.

In fact, Sam is so free from being The Symbol of Hope when Cap is around that he doesn’t feel bad being antagonistic toward enemies, or being a little petty with friends in moments of high tension. He does have the seeds of “I’ll see good in everybody,” too: he gives Iron Man a chance to help Steve, and he works with Bucky when Bucky’s still freshly brainwashed even if he’s a little snippy about it.

But the thing is, if you have Sam strive to “live up to” Steve, you kind of undermine his relationship with Steve. He’s no Bucky, but he did know Steve. After Winter Soldier, the audience gets to see that Steve trusted Sam before he trusted anybody else. Steve did not have Natasha out looking for Bucky while the Avengers trained. He had one guy doing that: Sam Wilson. Because he was close with Sam, and trusted him. Heck, their first conversation was written around a moment where Steve was just treating Sam like any citizen, politely leaving after their run, until Sam proved he could talk to Steve like a normal, relatable human. “It’s your bed, isn’t it? Too soft?” They could connect.

Sam is also the only one Steve had conversations with about normal, deep issues. “You can do whatever you wanna do. What is it that makes you happy?” Steve isn’t shown having those conversations with Bucky. He briefly starts that conversation with Natasha in Endgame. But the point is that it’s Sam who’s his second best-friend, and their relationship is based on trust, mutual respect, and understanding.

So having Sam suddenly see Steve as a hero-figure to idolize and emulate and compare himself to puts distance between Sam and Steve. Makes them more like fan-and-hero than brothers-in-arms and honest plain friends. Sam didn’t think everything Steve did was perfect or awesome. He was on his side, but he clearly had doubts about the value in trusting or trying to save Bucky, which Steve was committed to doing. So this thing they have Sam doing (and even Bucky doing in FATWS) where he compares himself to this idea of Steve the Perfect Captain America was not a great move, to start out with.

But they made that decision, so let’s talk about how poorly the follow-up was handled. When you take Sam and give him the shield, he can only worry about living up to the symbol for so long. Eventually he has to become our new symbol.

I mean, this is the first example we have of this in the MCU, right? This is the first “one hero audiences love goes away and we have to accept that he passed the mantle down to a different hero.” So they really needed to stick this landing.

Captain America, very specifically, is supposed to be the selfless one. All heroes are selfless on some level, otherwise they wouldn’t be heroes, but the whole tension of superheroes is “I’ve been given incredible responsibility, so what do I do with it?” Iron Man makes it about himself, covering up past wrongs. Spider-Man, too, on a more empathetic level, because of Uncle Ben (in this universe, Aunt May.) There’s a little ego always fighting to break in and ruin selfless assumption of responsibility.

But not with Cap. The Captain America Symbol is supposed to be just that. The guy behind the shield disappears into the symbol—which is, selflessness.

If you have Sam make everything about “I gotta prove myself” and “am I ever enough” then the symbol becomes about him. So it’s ruined. We need him to not care about “living up to” anything. We need him to eventually get over that.

But they like…can’t drop that victim mentality bone they have him gnawing on.

And it just wasn’t one that Sam had before picking up the shield, which is what made him so endearing, and such a good choice, in theory, for Cap, in the first place.