#skettis face

[spaghettiisinmysoul]

The rosy maple moth fairy fit had its debut at the New York renaissance faire yesterday!!! I had a great time despite the rain!!

I also got a bunch of sweet gifts from people who liked my costume 🥹 including the sweetest little girl who gave me the keychain and I almost cried ugh

[bardly-nonsense]

Here’s my Saba outfit currently! The pants and sword were borrowed. But I think he’s faire ready!! (This was for a child’s birthday party, that’s why I’m in that room lmao)

[kawoala]

atsumu and kuroo snore. send tweet

[orangetintedglasses]

( brain: hey what if she didn't make it o--

me: )

[daddy-dins-girl]

Playdate - Chapter Ten

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

AO3 link

pairing: Marcus Pike x f! Reader x Dave York

Word Count: 7.4k

Chapter Summary: Of all the ways you managed to dream up in your head about seeing Dave again, this was never how you would have imagined it actually playing out.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ MDNI. (SPOILERS IN THE TAGS!) Angst. Alcohol consumption. Brief violence and mentions of blood. Dave's feelings deserve their own warning 🫠. Dave's idiocy also deserves its own warning (we're working on him okay?). Dave gets a little pushy/forceful/needy with Reader but there's no actual threat or non-con, but figured I should mention it (you are held against a wall at one point but never physically hurt or threatened). Mentioned smut (including sex toys, anal play, light bondage, etc.).

HUGE thank you to @janaispunk for beta'ing and just being amazing in general 💜

Notes: This chapter starts off with Dave's POV and switches to Reader, I just figured we could use a little insight into Dave.

~ DAVE ~

Knelt down on one knee on the lawn of his ex-wife’s house, Dave could give a shit about the wet grass stain he could feel seeping into the denim of his jeans as he wrapped his arms a little tighter around both his girls, giving them one final goodbye hug. He pulls back slightly, frowning when he sees their wet faces staring back at him. He has to swallow the hard lump in his throat to hold back his own tears that want to fall so he can be strong for them so instead he plasters on the best smile he can manage and brings both hands up to ruffle the hair on both their heads.

“Don’t be sad Angels, I’ll see you again in two weeks okay?” he assures them and they both slowly nod their heads. He knew it would be hard dropping them off today after having them for the entire summer, not only for them but for him as well. It was going to be difficult to go from seeing them every day back to once every two weeks. Not to mention he was now saying goodbye to the only distraction in his life that was holding him together these past couple of months.

“I miss you already Daddy,” his youngest, Alice pouts before her chubby little arms wrap around his neck once more and squeeze. Dave lets out a little chuckle and hugs her back tightly before pressing a kiss into her hair.

“I miss you too, babies,” he sighs.

“Why don’t you girls go inside and wash up now,” his ex-wife Carol finally speaks up from up on the porch at the front door. “Dinner’s almost ready. Steve’s making your favorite,” she announces and both girls' faces light up like kids at Christmas as they finally pull away from their father.

“Sketti and meatballs!” Alice shouts excitedly.

“Bye Daddy,” his oldest, Molly, says one final time, pressing a kiss to his cheek before she takes her younger sister by the hand and leads her up the porch steps and they disappear into the house.

“Said the magic words huh?” Dave chuckles, standing up to his feet and dusting off his jeans.

“Sketti and meatballs” Carol shrugs, a fond smile on her lips. “You look good,” she says after a moment. “Better than the last time I saw you.”

“Yeah, well…” Dave trails off, not wanting to get into why he came to her all but desperate a couple of months ago to let him take their children for an extended summer vacation. “Thanks again, I had a really great time with them.”

“Of course,” she nods. “Did you want to stay for dinner? I’m sure Steve made enough to feed an army. God knows I love him but that man can’t measure pasta to save his life,” she jokes of her new husband and Dave lets out a small chuckle but shakes his head.

“I should probably get going, let you guys have your family dinner.”

“Ok well… the usual time then? Two Saturdays from now?” she asks and Dave nods.

“I’ll be here.”

“Okay. And Dave?” she says just as he turns to head back to the driveway.

“Yeah?” he answers, turning back to face her.

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Sure,” he smiles, unconvincing even to himself before he heads down the driveway and gets into his car.

He hadn’t been very candid with her about why he suddenly needed to “get away” and wanted to take his kids on an impromptu summer vacation, but she read him like a book anyway. “What’s her name?” is all she’d asked when he’d shown up on her doorstep a couple of months ago looking tired and distracted. “Doesn’t matter” he’d carelessly shrugged back, not meeting her gaze. Carol had pursed her lips and hummed her agreement but otherwise didn’t push. She knew better. Dave wasn’t exactly one for expressing his feelings, even when they’d been married.

The weeks that follow since bringing his kids back to their mother seem to pass by in a blur as he throws himself full force back into his work, even working on the weekends that he’s not with his kids, mostly as a distraction rather than a necessity. He doesn’t want to be reminded of what his Saturday nights used to be, before. And despite his ex-wife’s wishes he knows he’s not taking proper care of himself. He’s working too much, drinking too much (apart from the days when he has his children of course) and certainly not eating enough. He feels pathetic. Like some lovesick puppy and it’s definitely not a feeling he’s used to. Hell, he didn’t even feel like this when he got divorced or when his now ex-wife got remarried. He bought them a damn wedding present and danced with his daughters standing on his feet at the reception hall. Not that he was thrilled to be a divorced Dad or anything, but he couldn’t argue with Carol when she told him he wasn’t giving her enough of himself. He did feel like shit for months after the separation but after a while it faded and he was able to carve out a new life for himself and he was fine. Happy might have been a stretch, but he was existing just fine.

He of course hadn’t expected you and your husband to turn up barely a year later and turn his whole life upside for several months. It had started out as just fun. Blowing off steam, getting his dick wet, he was far from complaining about any of it. He loved how obedient you both were to him immediately, filling a void in him that he hadn’t engaged in nearly as much as he wanted to. Sure he’d had some rough fucks in his day but that was different than what he had with you. Having a partner - partners - that you built a trust with just brought everything to a new, heightened level and that, well, he hadn’t quite experienced before. But along with trust, of course other feelings start to emerge, feelings Dave had long since given up on expecting to have at this point in his life. And having these feelings for a fucking already married couple did not help his situation any. It was a mistake, he realizes in hindsight, spending your birthday with you both. An entire weekend wrapped up with you, spending the night together, waking up together, having meals together, it was… well, for Dave, it was everything. Everything he never even knew he was looking for and of fucking course he had to find it with two people who already had each other.

And now? Now what the fuck was he doing? Drowning his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle of overpriced bourbon at a bar, by himself, on a Friday night. Just like he’s found himself the past countless Friday nights, hoping he’d wake up the next morning and be able to forget about the two people who had apparently taken up permanent residence in the tight cavity of his chest, refusing to be let go.

He was fucking pathetic. And probably needed to get laid, too. That was one thing he could surely do something about easily enough. He’s been coming to this same bar every Friday night for a month now and one cute waitress in particular never seemed to stray very far from his table and he wasn’t that great of a tipper. He’d barely managed a second glance in her direction his past few visits but maybe tonight he should change that. The drinking wasn’t enough of a distraction anymore and this week was his off-week from seeing his kids so he didn’t have that to keep himself occupied either.

Mind made up he signals the waitress over to his table - whatever her name was. She’d told him probably a dozen times but fuck if he could remember it. It didn’t matter, after tonight he doesn’t plan on seeing her again and he’ll make sure she understands that before he actually leaves with her. For now, what’s the harm in a little fun? A decent pair of tits and a tight pussy is all he needs to get his head back on straight he thinks. And judging by the way the waitress basically comes bouncing over to him the moment he waves her over, it isn’t going to be much of a challenge. The only challenge for Dave will be when he closes his eyes as he sinks inside her, hoping, praying that it’s no longer the image of you that’s emblazoned on the backs of his eyelids.

~ YOU ~

It’s been nearly four months since your birthday. Since you last saw him.

In the time since that first weekend after Dave had disappeared from your lives, you and Marcus had found your rhythm again. Your lives are back to normal and, realistically, maybe even better than they’ve ever been. You were communicating so much more now and your physical relationship (which, you’d never had much of an issue with to begin with) was definitely thriving. Due to the increased communication, the two of you were always not only willing, but eager to talk more while in bed about anything you were particularly craving and put in the effort together for each other. It had really started the night Marcus had taken charge (a week after your birthday) and fully blossomed from there. There was one Sunday morning back a few months ago where the two of you laid in bed together with your laptop in front of you and were online shopping for fun new sex toys you both might enjoy. You filled your cart without judgment or shame and Marcus hastily typed in his credit card information when you were done browsing. The moment you heard the ‘swish’ of the order confirmation being sent, Marcus snapped the laptop closed, tossed it to the far corner of the bed and then all but pounced on you.

Early on when the two of you were still navigating your post-Dave waters Marcus had even asked you if you still wanted someone else in your lives. The role Dave was meant to (and had initially) played, you assume he meant (before it had gone and gotten complicated). You could tell by the way he asked you, his voice unsure and hesitant sounding, that it wasn’t something he wanted. And in all honesty, you didn’t want it anymore either and you were quick to assure him of that. Not only was Marcus indulging and fulfilling anything you desired, but whoever it was, they’d never be Dave anyway. It didn’t have to be said out loud that he was the only extra piece you’d both ever want in your marriage, you both knew it already.

Sunday mornings seemed to be when you’d find yourself thinking of and missing Dave the most, when you’d look around your bedroom in the aftermath of what your Saturday night had been. Saturday nights had become your routinely scheduled evenings where you and Marcus would get extra adventurous in bed, typically breaking in more of your new toys you’d purchased and just letting loose and taking out all your stresses of the week on one another.

One particular Sunday morning you remember lying next to Marcus who had just opened his beautiful sleepy eyes and you brushed his hair back from his forehead and then let out a little giggle followed by a sad sigh when your gaze caught site of the black fuzzy handcuffs that were still looped around one of the spokes in the headboard.

“He would’ve loved to see you like that,” you murmur, eyebrow raised playfully and you actually see Marcus’ ears turn pink and he bashfully hides his face in the pillow for a quick moment and laughs.

“You think so?”

“I know so baby. God you were so hot, at my mercy like that.”

Your blood begins to run hot just thinking about it again now. How he’d submitted to you. He’d laid down on his stomach, arms stretched above his head where you’d cuffed him to the bed and then you sat back on his thighs, massaging his ass with one hand while the other prepared the lube and the plug that the two of you had picked out together on your impromptu online shopping adventure a couple of weeks earlier in the other. It was the first time he’d ever let you do anything like that to him, though you’d discussed it a few times beforehand, and you were both pleasantly surprised how hot you found it.

You’d slowly fed him the plug, all the while gently rubbing his back with your free hand, soothing him and telling him how well he was doing for you. You still can’t erase from memory the way your breath hitched when he replied in a low, quivering voice, “yeah, I’m being a good boy?” God, the way the arousal instantly flooded you it was a miracle you were able to continue what you were doing and not abandon it all together to take care of yourself.

“Fuck, you’re such a good boy,” you assured him, hand leaving his back to smoothing across the globes of his ass instead

Once you’d gotten it all the way inside and ensured he was comfortable you’d began to slowly maneuver it partially out and then back in, over and over again until it got to feeling so good for him that you’d gotten off his legs and let him get up on his knees when he’d begged you to let him fuck you.

You slid underneath his body, never uncuffing him, wriggling up the bed until you were face to face and left the plug seated deep in his ass as you helped guide his leaking tip to your entrance and he pushed inside. His hands were able to grip the spokes in the headboard so he had some leverage while still held captive in his position and he railed into you deep and hard, moaning like you’d never heard him before for the entire time, like he was on an entirely different plane of pleasure he hadn’t yet experienced.

Afterwards when you both lay spent and chests heaving with exhaustion you’d uncuffed him, gently removed the plug and gathered him in your arms, letting him cling to you with his head resting on your chest. You kissed and played with his hair, murmuring into the top of his head what a good boy he was for you and he just held you tighter until you’d both fallen asleep.

You loved your playful, risque and experimental Saturday nights, but you also loved the quieter, more intimate times as well. You loved waking up on a Sunday morning and lazily making love for hours, refusing to leave the comfort of your marital bed for most of the day. You loved weeknights sprawled out on the sofa relaxing after dinner and watching TV when you’d start necking like teenagers until he’d shove your pants down and slip inside of you, fucking you slow and deep until you both came and then he’d carry you up the stairs to bed. You loved nights when you were both too exhausted from your work days to do much of anything but still wanted to be close so you’d make out a little until he got hard and he would push inside your warm heat and then just wrap his arms around you and hold you until you’d both fall asleep with him inside you.

At the end of the day, well and truly, this had been what you both had wanted, originally. Dave was meant to come in, spice up your love life a little bit, teach you both a couple of things and then leave you to your lives with your newfound sexual knowledge. He’d done that, and yet, there was no denying that you still felt like a piece was just missing now.

A Dave York shaped piece.

You didn’t like to bring him up often to each other anymore. All it did was cause sadness for you both. You’d talked a lot early on and had eventually both admitted out loud your feelings you had for Dave but now there was no use bringing up his name anymore. He was gone and you had to accept it. It didn’t mean you couldn’t miss him, because oh, you missed him. All the time. But there was no use dwelling on something you had no control over, you had to move on. And you had, for the most part.

Or so you thought, until one Friday evening when your work colleagues managed to drag you out with them to a bar and there in the flesh, across the room of the dimly lit tavern, sat the one and only Dave fucking York.

You’d nearly spilled your drink on yourself when your head had turned and you saw him in your peripheral. He looked handsome as ever, wearing dark jeans and a white button up shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, top couple of buttons undone showing a teasing amount of perfect sun-kissed skin. Wherever his “emergency sabbatical” took him, it was apparently somewhere spent mostly outdoors in the sun you presume. His face looked a little thinner as well, his features more sharp and refined and you have to wonder if he’s been hitting the gym a lot more recently.

The only thing, frankly, that didn’t look good on him right now was the tiny blonde currently seated in his lap holding up a tray of shots you assume were meant for another table before Dave had intervened when something pretty caught his eye. You could practically feel your blood boiling at the sight before you, those deft fingers that knew your body all too well pulling and teasing at the belt loops of the tiny denim shorts the waitress was wearing while she threw her head back in laughter at something he’d said, eating up whatever attention he was willing to give her and you can’t say you blamed the girl. When the sly, sexy grin crossed his lips and he buried his face in her hair to undoubtedly whisper something absolutely filthy next to her ear and you saw her bite her lip in response, it felt like a hard slap across the face and everything happening around you instantly turned to white noise as you focused all your attention on the man across the room who, far as you could tell, hadn’t noticed you yet.

Before you do anything you quickly dig into your purse hanging on your chair for your phone and send a text to Marcus letting him know that Dave is here. His reply of ‘holy shit’ comes back near instantly but before you have a chance to type anything further you hear a loud voice bellowing from behind you for service, waiting for their shots apparently, and the tiny blonde regretfully starts to peel herself off of Dave’s lap to attend to her duties. Unfortunately Dave’s eyeline drifts to where the voice comes from, which you happen to be right in the cross hairs of. You see the tiniest flicker of shock etch across his features before his carefully crafted mask slips perfectly back into place and he gives you a small shit-eating grin that you wish you had the courage to slap right off of him. Eyes not leaving yours he simply picks up his beer and pulls another sip from it before he reaches out, grabs the hand of the waitress about to walk away and tugs her back into his lap, wrapping a possessive arm around her. His gaze never leaves you, even as his head tilts down to press his lips to the girl's shoulder.

Asshole.

Tears well in your eyes before you can stop them. He’s being a prick on purpose and you simply hate him in this moment. Dave York was a lot of things, but you’d never known him to be mean. Until now.

Not able to look at him another second you hastily push back from the table, your chair screeching across the hardwood loud enough to stop the idle chit-chat amongst your table of coworkers as they all stop to stare at you, having no clue what’s going on.

“I’ll be right back, just… need some air,” you explain curtly, not offering anything further or waiting for anyone to offer to accompany you.

You vaguely hear one of them calling your name questioningly as you stand up from the table and storm off towards the exit, passing Dave who’s now downing the entire tray of shots like they’re water.

Good, drink yourself half to death, you fucking idiot.

When the cool evening air hits you the moment you step outside it's like a brief reprieve and you take a deep breath, tears freely spilling down your cheeks now that you hastily try wiping away with the back of your hand. There’s a small crowd standing outside the front doors smoking cigarettes and vape pens but the chatter amongst them halts to a dead silence when the door slams shut behind you in your haste to get outside. Not in the mood for any onlookers, you quickly head off in the opposite direction and take the left turn down the alley at the side of the building for some privacy until you can catch your breath and, god willing, get your body to stop trembling. You realize too that you’d left your purse and your phone inside and you can’t possibly go back in there right now, not like this.

“Fuck,” you sigh into the desolate alley, stopping to lean your back against the cool brick and hanging your head, burying your face in your hands. The emotions of it all, of seeing him again, hits you like a ton of bricks and you let out a loud sob, your legs practically buckling from underneath you causing you to slide down the wall and squat down, elbows resting on your knees and face still buried in your hands as the now quieter sobs continue to rack your body.

You’re feeling just about every emotion under the sun right now and they’re all pouring out of you at once. You’re angry, jealous, sad, irritated, but maybe worst of all you’re reminded of just how fucking badly you still miss him. How badly you weren’t over him. And you hate yourself for it.

“Gotta light?”

That voice… of course you recognize it the second you hear it, even with his words slightly slurred and your face practically buried between your knees, and of course he had to follow you out here. The moment your head raises to look at his smug smirk with the cigarette dangling between his perfect lips you scowl, quickly rising to your feet and taking the two short strides over to where he stands in the middle of the alley and you snatch white stick from his mouth and immediately snap it in two, tossing it carelessly to the ground between you.

“Hey!” Dave barks at you, his voice sharp and loud as it echoes off the walls of the tight alleyway.

As if he has any right to be the one pissed off right now.

“Oh you don’t even smoke,” you argue back immediately, not in any type of mood to be taking shit from this man.

“I’m a social smoker,” he shrugs and you doubt even that’s the truth, he just wanted a reason to follow after you.

“You’re an asshole,” you bite back, not missing a beat.

He scoffs. “Somebody’s in a mood. Maybe you need that cigarette more than I do.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

He’s on you before the last syllable even leaves your lips, both his large hands on your shoulders shoving you backwards until your back hits the wall and he’s crowding your space, leaving barely an inch of space between your two bodies that are now breathing heavily with adrenaline. You can smell the alcohol on him and you know he’s had a lot to drink. If you weren’t half buzzed already you could probably get there just by the smell wafting off of him.

“Think you’d rather I fuck you, hmm? That where all this attitude is coming from Baby?”

His hips force yours further into the unforgiving brick behind you as his hands leave your shoulders to grip your waist instead and you can feel the hard outline of his obvious desire pressing against you. You bite your lip to suppress the moan that’s begging to escape your throat but it slips through anyway; barely registering but he hears it. Of course he does. You can see the way the corner of his lip turns upward into a sly grin.

“There’s my girl.”

“I’m not your anything! You fucking left Dave. You left!” You raise your hands up to shove hard at his chest but he’s like an immovable wall.

“I know.”

His voice is suddenly soft, dare you say, remorseful sounding. You hate how your resolve and anger instantly starts to wane the moment he lets his guard down even the slightest bit.

“I know,” he repeats it again, softer, quieter, his forehead coming down to rest against yours where he slightly shakes his head back and forth. One hand lets go of the grip on your waist and he gently rubs the back of his knuckles up and down the top of your arm, just a barely-there touch that’s already causing goosebumps to raise on your flesh.

“What do you want?” you ask, trying to sound stronger than what you know you’re actually capable of right now. “Why did you follow me out here?”

“I want what you want”. His voice is suddenly at your ear and an involuntary shiver runs through your entire body. “Come home with me,” he tries, his voice slurring just slightly and you roll your eyes and attempt to put space between the two of you again. This time he’s not expecting it and you do manage to push him back a few inches and he wobbles on his feet.

“A drunk fuck so you can disappear again the minute it’s over, you think that’s what I want?” You’re practically screaming at him now, but you don’t care, he deserves it.

“C’mon,” he huffs, sounding annoyed as he quickly crowds your space once more, this time he manages to grab your hands and hoist them above your head, pressing them into the wall so you can’t push him off you again. “One last time for old times sake, huh? Let me fuck this attitude right out of you”

“I’m married, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Hasn’t exactly stopped us before,” he smirks and then lowers his face down so he can nuzzle into you, his nose grazing your ear and his smooth cheek brushing against yours and for a moment you feel yourself melting into his soft touch.

Your voice lacks the conviction you know it should when you rasp out a quiet "Dave, stop”. You won’t go home with him, you know you won’t. You’d never hurt Marcus like that (again), but the smell of his familiar cologne on his shirt collar, the way his warm skin feels pressed against yours and how your body seemingly just fits into the contours of his own you can’t find it in you to immediately try and push him away again either. It’s been so long, you want to just feel him. Just for a moment.

“Kiss me,” he tries, voice suddenly at your ear before he moves just slightly until his lips hover on yours. He doesn’t force it on you, waiting for you to make that final move and close the distance between you. It takes everything in you, but you manage to turn your face away and you hear his desolate sigh in response, hot breath fanning your cheek.

“Take a hint buddy,” a deep voice suddenly interrupts and both your heads snap to the side where you see an enormous man standing at the opening of the alley, an unlit cigarette between his lips. He must be a good six inches shorter than Dave but easily has over 100lbs on him. He’s a very wide, stocky man with a long ponytail and a studded leather vest over top of a faded t-shirt and covered in tattoos, looking like he belongs in some type of biker gang. You immediately recognize him as the man from earlier who tried to summon the waitress from Dave.

He fishes a lighter from his pocket and brings the flame up to light the cigarette and takes a long drag before breathing a large cloud of smoke out.

“She’s not interested,” he repeats when Dave doesn’t loosen his hold on you. “And you’re paying for those six shots by the way, prick.”

“What, you think she’s saving herself for you?” Dave laughs, incredulous. His hands suddenly leave yours, allowing your arms to drop down to your sides and he takes a step back from you, fully turning towards the man who’s now taken a few tentative steps into the alley. Dave reaches a hand into his back pocket fishing out his wallet. He pulls what looks to be a fifty from the bill fold, scrunches it up to a ball and throws it in the direction of the man standing in front of him before closing his wallet and returning it to his pants.

“There, now fuck off.”

“What’s your problem man?” The bystander asks, flicking his cigarette away and taking two long strides forward, the fifty note left crumpled and forgotten on the ground.

“My problem? My problem is fucking assholes who can’t mind their own business. Go fuck off and get your micro dick sucked somewhere else.”

Your brow furrows as you listen to Dave seemingly intentionally picking a fight with this complete stranger. This was not the calm, cool, collected Dave that you’re used to.

You didn’t like whoever this Dave was.

“Wanna try saying that to my face, shithead?” The shorter man challenges, taking another step towards Dave.

“Dave, just leave it,” you try but he waves a flippant hand at you, not even bothering to look in your direction.

“How bout I get you a stepstool and you say it to mine, small fry.”

“Don’t need a stool to lay you out right here on the pavement,” he challenges right back, taking yet another step closer until they’re just inches apart, the shorter man apparently not intimidated whatsoever and likely rather comfortable in a fight, you assume. What he doesn’t know, however, and what you do, is Dave’s extensive military training. Even drunk you have no doubt he could easily kill this man and barely break a sweat, if he wanted to.

“Leave it alone Dave, c’mon, I mean it!” You try again but you might as well be talking to the wall behind you, as neither of the men are paying you any attention any longer. Ironic, since you’re half the reason the fight started in the first place. Men.

“Tell you what,” Dave begins, voice smug. “First one’s free,” he finishes, raising his arms up in the air, defenseless.

Before you even have a chance to plead with them once more the other man swings, clocking Dave right in the gut that has him doubling over for a few brief seconds before he quickly rights himself again, and, to your astonishment, starts laughing.

“That it?” Dave laughs, back to his full height again. “C’mon, again,” he goads.

This time the stranger's fist connects with Dave’s face, causing his head to swing left with the impact he puts behind it. You quickly scramble over to Dave who lets out another chuckle as he wipes the blood from his lip with the back of his hand and turns back to face his foe.

“Pussy,” Dave taunts before spitting blood to the ground at the man's feet. “Why don’t we call the waitress out from inside, she probably hits harder than you do.”

“Dave!”

You watch it happening like it’s in slow motion, how the man grabs Dave’s head with both hands and smashes it into the brick wall and Dave, for whatever reason, doesn’t even fight it. It makes you think of those videos you had to watch in Drivers Ed as a teenager, how the drunk driver in the scenario is typically the one to survive a collision because their response time is so slow their body just lets go and goes with the flow rather than bracing for impact. The part that really tears you up inside though is you don’t even think it’s the alcohol, you think he’s doing it on purpose, wanting to get hurt. You hear the loud smack as his forehead hits the brick and you instantly surge forward, taking the brunt of his weight as he collapses into you and you both slowly slide down to the ground with him in your arms because you can’t hold his weight.

“Get up, you piece of shit!” the stranger yells, furious, and you scream, covering Dave’s body with your own where he lays in your lap as the man winds up to kick Dave while he’s down.

“Enough!” A third man’s voice shouts and relief floods your whole system as you recognize it’s Marcus. In a flash he’s crossing the alley, grabbing the stranger by his shirt and shoving him into the brick and holding him there. Marcus was definitely ‘a lover not a fighter’, but he could certainly hold his own when it came down to it if need be. You’re not scared any longer.

“You alright Honey?” he asks, quickly chancing a glance over to where you’re kneeled on the ground with Dave’s head in your lap, surveying the laceration above his eyebrow.

The man in Marcus’ grasp looks at the two of you confused, then when he notices Marcus’ wedding ring where his fists are cuffed in his shirt, his eyes widen in disbelief.

“Holy shit, is this your wife? I just did you a favour pal,” he scoffs, lightly shoving at Marcus and Marcus backs off just slightly, letting go but staying close in case the man wants to go at Dave again who’s practically unconscious at this point.

“Look it's fine just… go back inside please,” Marcus huffs before he turns back to you and frowns. “Think we can get him up?”

Between the two of you and Dave’s slight cooperation (as much as he can manage with not only how intoxicated he is but how he surely just got few screws knocked loose thanks to that brick wall) you manage to get him up and he looks around a little disoriented, shaking his head while you and Marcus flank either side of him and hold him up.

“Marcus? You’re here,” Dave slurs and then turns his entire body into him and practically collapses into his arms in what you think was meant to be a hug. Marcus manages to hold Dave upright, both his arms holding under Dave’s armpits to keep him on his feet.

“I’m here,” Marcus croaks out. “I’ve got you.”

“The fuck?” the stranger mutters, shaking his head as he watches what must surely be a very strange reaction to a husband finding another man hitting on his wife in a dark alley. “Good luck with… well, all of that pal,” he says with a wave of his hand in the direction of the three of you before he turns on his heel, bends down to pick up the discarded fifty and heads back out of the alley and presumably back toward the bar.

“I’m drunk,” Dave suddenly breaks the silence, pushing back slightly from Marcus and wavering on his feet. His brows furrow in confusion and he wipes at his forehead. When his hand comes into his eyeline and he sees blood smeared on it, his features scrunch up again. “And I think I hit my head?”

“It’s ok, do you think you can help us get you to the car? It’s close,” Marcus tries to explain to Dave who manages a small nod. You get behind Dave and lift one of his arms up and turn him slightly, draping his arm over your shoulders as you move with him to stand at his side, Marcus now holding up the other. Thankfully Marcus had hastily just parked the car in a loading zone directly in front of the bar after you failed to answer any of his texts or calls so the walk was quick and you managed to get Dave shoved into the front passenger seat. You quickly run back inside to grab your purse and phone and say a quick goodnight to your coworkers and then hurry back out to the car. Dave mumbles off his address once Marcus slides into the driver’s seat and Marcus gives a non-commital grunt of acknowledgement before he pulls away from the curb and drives away. Barely two minutes later Dave’s head is tilted all the way back into the headrest and he’s passed out. You lean forward from the backseat to address Marcus.

“We can’t take him home like that. What if he has a concussion or something?”

“I’m not taking him home” Marcus quickly responds, shaking his head.

With a satisfied sigh you lean back into your seat.

What a fucking disaster.

Barely ten minutes later Marcus pulls into your driveway, hitting the button clipped to the sun visor to open the garage. The last thing he needs is for his neighbors to see the two of you dragging a bloodied half unconscious man into your home in the middle of the night.

You only manage to get him as far as the couch on the main floor, an upstairs bedroom too harrowing of a feat to attempt you presume with Dave’s inability to offer much of his own assistance. With a loud grunt you manage to drop him down to a seated position on the sofa and he immediately falls back into the soft cushions.

“Stay with him, I’ll get some water and something for his head,” Marcus says and you nod your head.

He’s only gone a minute or so, taking a little longer because he couldn’t find the Aspirin bottle right away, but when he returns with two extra strength tablets and a full glass of water he stops in his tracks just inside the living room.

Dave is flopped on his side, face resting on your lap facing where Marcus stands while your hands delicately card through his hair.

He’s murmuring quiet little ramblings with his eyes closed, something about “fucked up” and “so sorry” and you just gently hush him, running your fingers through his sweat damp hair.

“We need to clean him up” you tell Marcus when you notice him standing there. There’s blood still smeared across his forehead but thankfully not very much, he hadn’t been actively bleeding for very long. At least you know he doesn’t require any stitches.

Marcus sighs and crosses the room, getting down on his haunches in front of the couch in Dave’s direct eye line.

“Hey Buddy,” he tries softly. “Need you to sit up for me, have some water and take these.”

Dave grunts, noncommittally, but ultimately does try and push himself up. You both help until he’s back into a seated position and Marcus hands him the two white tablets. Dave stares at them for several seconds before tossing them back into his throat and swallowing without water. You tisk at him and shove the water glass into his hand.

“Drink,” you order. He does. He finishes near the entire glass in one go and your eyes widen in surprise.

“There,” he sighs, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Can I go now?”

You’re so frustrated you could smack him. One second he’s being a total asshole, the next he’s trying to kiss you, then he’s purposely getting the shit beat out of him, then practically crying in your lap, and now he’s back to being obstinate again.

He was right about one thing. He is fucked up. And you don’t think it’s just the booze.

“I’m sorry, no,” you shake your head, trying to sound less angry than you feel. The last thing you need is to pick another fight with this unpredictable man right now. “Baby, you’re bleeding”

The endearment slips out completely by accident. You don’t even notice you’ve said it but both Dave and Marcus do, their widened gazes turning to you at the exact same moment.

“Dave,” you quickly try to correct, shaking your head.

He lets out a little snort and nods his head, like he’s willing to let you get away with your little slip up.

“You hit your head really hard, you can’t be alone tonight. If you can make it upstairs you can have the guest room, if not, we can make up the couch. In the morning you’re free to go, I promise.”

“Fine,” he relents, shoulders dropping.

“Think you can help us get you upstairs?” you ask and he nods his head. Both you and Marcus throw one of his arms around your shoulders and help him up, taking each of the steps up the staircase slowly. Dave seems to be somewhat coming out of his fog and much more helpful this time, thankfully. You’re pretty sure it’s just the alcohol working against him now, his brain mostly cleared from the fog of the head trauma. Once you reach the top of the stairs you go to turn towards the guest room but Dave plants his feet and attempts to twist his body away from it, toward the direction he knows your and Marcus’ master bedroom is instead. You and Marcus both share a look behind Dave’s back where you’re holding him and after a moment Marcus gives you one solitary nod, acquiescing to Dave's wishes.

Once inside the room you unravel yourself from Dave as Marcus sits down on the edge of the mattress, bringing Dave with him to sit next to him. You head off to the bathroom to wet a washcloth and come back into the room to gently wipe away the blood and dirt at Dave’s forehead.

“What the fuck were you thinking,” you mutter as you clean him up best you can, shaking your head slightly. He doesn’t answer and you don’t expect him to, nor do you really even want him to in his condition. He needs to sleep it off, maybe you’ll get some clarity in the morning.

Once he’s cleaned up Marcus lifts Dave’s arm off of him and puts it into his lap. He isn’t sure what to do next so he leaves Dave there and wanders off to the bathroom to find you where you’re rinsing off the washcloth in the sink.

“What do we do with him?” he asks quietly.

“Well… honestly it’s probably better we’re in the same room anyway, that way if something happens in the middle of the night we’re there,” you reason and Marcus nods.

“Ok…” he sighs, following after you as you exit the bathroom and flick off its light.

You stop just outside the bathroom when you see Dave passed out in the middle of your bed, all his clothes - including his shoes - still on and you sigh.

“I got it,” Marcus says, going to the end of the bed and untying the laces of Dave’s shoes before placing them on the ground. That’s all you undress of him though, he’ll be fine sleeping in the rest of his clothes. Marcus was already in sweats and a t-shirt but you were still in work clothes so go over to your dresser and fish out a pair of pajamas and quickly change. Once you’re ready for bed you turn out the lights and both you and Marcus crawl in on either side of Dave. You can’t help but reach a hand out and brush it through his hair as his light snores fill the quiet, darkened room.

Fuck, you really missed him.

Taglist (if you want to be added - or removed!, lmk!) @senaar-ika @suzdin @boliv-jenta @prolix-yuy @vabeachazn @seasonalobession @pedroshotwifey @nerdieforpedro @chronically-ghosted @macabremads @survivingandenduring @theywhowriteandknowthings @axshadows @iamasaddie @vickywallace @lincolndjarin @its-nebuleuse @janaispunk @missladym1981 @heareball @staywildflowahchild @guelyury @anotherpedrolover @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @runningmom94 @yorksgirl @harrington-thedad @missyorkswhore @disassociation-daydreams

[queerdiazs]

snippet sunday 🎄

hi friends, i've had a day and now i'm at home eating sketti and enjoying silly lil tv shows

have a lil snip from mall jail fic <3

ps if you see a typo mind your business

“Okay, Eddie. Throw me a bone here.” Buck turns and leans against the front of Eddie’s truck, crossing his arms over his chest. They’re so big, bulging so pretty it squeezes his tits. Eddie goes a little cross-eyed. “What happened?”  Eddie shrugs. “It’s not my fault,” he says, reaching out to pick at a glob of mud on the hood next to Buck’s shoulder.  “It’s not your fault—you were in jail,” Buck exclaims, loudly, and kicks Eddie’s shin a little hard with the toe of his Croc. Motherfucker needs to cut his toenails; there’s no way his Croc’s got a damn blade in it. “That kind of feels like you did something.”  “Mall jail. It was mall jail. It’s not the real thing.”  Buck sputters, as if there’s so much he wants to say but he can’t get the words out in enough time, and it’s so cute, and Eddie has to bite his lip before he says as such.  “That doesn’t matter,” Buck insists, holding his hands out in a placating manner. “Just tell me what happened, man.”  “What do you mean what happened? Will Atkinson happened!”  “Eddie.”  Eddie takes one look at Buck’s amused, exasperated expression and caves immediately. “Fine. Fine.” He makes a face, screws up his nose and huffs. “I found you the perfect gift.” 

tagged by @eowon, @callmenewbie, @jeeyuns, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @hippolotamus, @devirnis, @giddyupbuck, @disasterbuckdiaz, @thewolvesof1998, @theotherbuckley, @daffi-990, @jamespearce9-1-1, and @wikiangela, mwah

tagging @spagheddiediaz because this is the one fic of mine she isn't going to read before it's posted 🫶🏼

[svechnikovvv]

troublemaker

pairing: dad!trevor zegras x mom!fem!reader

warnings: none

summary: you get a call from your son’s school principal

a/n: we’re 2 away from 500 🫣 i don’t know what to do to celebrate it either

masterlist: here

being called by the school principal wasn’t on my agenda for today, but here we are. i get out of the car and walk up to the building, opening the doors.

“hi, i’m here to see the principal about my son, theodore zegras.” the lady at the desk nods and guides me to the office. i knock on the door and hear a “come in” from the other side and i enter. there, i see my son sitting in a chair swinging his feet back and forth.

“mommy!” he cheers, getting up out the chair and clinging onto my leg. i take a seat in front of the principal’s desk, setting theo on my lap.

“who hurt you, t?” i gently rub my fingers over the marks under his eye.

“theodore here shoved a kid off one of the playground equipment, and the kid fought back.” my eyes widen

“what was the reason?” the older man shrugs his shoulders

“he won’t tell anyone.” i look down at theo and poke his side.

“what’s up, bud? why’d you shove that kid? that’s not nice.” theo crosses his arms and pouts

“evan said that uncle jamie was better than daddy.” it takes everything in me not to laugh. i look at the principal who looks very confused.

“i’m so sorry for all the trouble. my husband is a hockey player, jamie is one of his teammates, as well as theo’s uncle.” he nods, then looking at theo.

“theodore, i understand that you love your dad, but we don’t push people, alright? we use our words.” theo still has a pout on his face, but nods anyways. the principal then looks at me again.

“we’re just going to give him a one day out of school suspension.” i give him a nod and thank him, saying goodbye. with theo’s spider-man bookbag one one of my shoulders, and one of my hands holding his much tinier one, we make our way out the school and to the car.

“seatbelt, kiddo.” i say as i get into the driver’s side. i look in the rear-view mirror and see him snap it into place. i then back out the school and head home.

“mommy, can we have sketti for dinner?”

“absolutely. with garlic bread?” i look back at him and he nods.

“let’s go make a grocery trip then.” he cheers and we make a stop at the grocery store. i set him in the top part of the buggy. i needed to do a grocery run anyways. we then get to the cereal aisle and i can’t make a choice.

“okay theo. do we get cookie crisp, or honeycombs?” i hold out both cereal boxes and he points to the cookie crisps. he was just like his father. i set the box in the shopping cart and continue on with the shopping. once everything’s been checked out and placed in the trunk, then we head home.

when we arrive there, trevor’s car is parked in the driveway. he’s home from practice. since there weren’t many bags, i can carry them in one trip. i grab my keys out my pocket and unlock the door. theo pushes it open and runs inside.

“daddy! we’re home!” trevor then comes into view and picks theo up, making him laugh. i walk into the kitchen, setting the groceries on the counter and trevor follows me.

“woah! look at that shiner you got there. you’re as bad as uncle troy.” theo giggles “who did this to you?” trevor then looks at me for an answer.

“what happened?”

“theo shoved a kid on the playground and i guess he didn’t like it, and he fought back.” trevor looks back at theo and pokes him, making him squirm.

“why’d you push a kid? that’s not nice buddy.” he slightly frowns and crosses his arms, looking at me. trevor then looks at me as well, awaiting a response.

“some kid-” theo cuts me off.

“evan,” he says coldly. i hold my hands up in surrender.

“right. my fault. evan told him that jamie was better than you.” trevor laughs and sets theo on the kitchen island.

“i’m glad that you’re sticking up for me when i’m not there, but that doesn’t mean you brawl with them.” trevor points at him and theo nods. i turn around and go to put up the groceries.

“did you win?” i turn back around and place my hands on my hips.

“trevor zegras, don’t encourage him.”

“but we raised a little mma fighter. gotta bask in his glory.” he picked theo up and placed him on his shoulders. i go back to the groceries and hear them laugh, trevor walking away with theo.

after we ate our “sketti” and garlic bread, theo was then sent to bed and not long after, trevor and i called it a night as well.

“being a parent is so difficult,” he breathes out. i tilt my head up to look at him since i was resting my head on his chest.

“you literally encouraged him to go out and fight more kids.” trevor and i laugh and he places a kiss on my head.

“i wouldn’t say encouraged. i would say… constructively criticized.” i roll my eyes

“i need sleep. it’s too early for this.”

“baby, it’s 11 at night.”

“exactly.”

tags: @goldenbrokenheart @lhugh @woodruff-edwards @hockeyboysarehot @ajbird2010 @hughesx3 @hannahh01938 @theywantedplayer @k1ttyt3ar @l0veforhugh3s

a/n: currently at my brother’s soccer practice so figured i’d finish this up

[adiduck]

.....wait just a sec how have I not prompted 42. Married Kiss yet

An EXCELLENT question. Clearly people need to send me more prompts for SaintSpy May <3

-

42. Married Kiss

It’s a little thing, barely below notice.

“Sweetheart, where’s Cat’s leash?” Ethan hollers through the house.

“Try the living room!” is hollered back from the main bedroom. Ethan’s husband is putting on a name for the day, and apparently cannot be fucked to put down what he’s doing to help Ethan find the tool that will keep their greyhound from leaping out of the dog park after a bird, never to be seen again. Ethan sighs and gets down on his hands and knees to check under the couch.

“I’m in the living room,” he yells back. “I don’t see it!” Cat comes over to see why one of her dads is on the floor, licking at Ethan’s face almost perfunctorily. “Thank you, kitty-cat,” Ethan tells her at a normal volume.

“Kitchen?” Ethan’s husband suggests.

Ethan stands up and picks up the couch throw for the third time, shaking it out in case he somehow missed the leash the first time. A fine cloud of gray dog hair rises from the throw. No leash becomes apparent.

“I already looked there!”

“Well, we don’t take her leash off anywhere else! Those are where it’d be!”

Ethan folds the throw and walks around to the right side of the couch, Cat trotting along at his heels. He pulls one couch cushion off and then the other. No leash. Cat paws at one of the cushions in Ethan’s hand. “I’m telling you, it’s not here!”

There’s a distinctly exasperated silence that comes from the bathroom. “Give me two minutes!”

Ethan sighs and puts the cushions back. “Where’s your leash, Noodle?” he asks, and bends slightly to silk her ears. Cat’s tail starts going a mile a minute, thumping into the couch. “Oh, yes, you know that word! What a smart, good girl, yes you are! We can’t go until we find the leash, baby girl. Where’s your leash?”

Cat pulls away and goes to stand at the door, looking back at Ethan hopefully. It’s heartbreaking.

“Where have you checked?” comes from behind Ethan. He glances over his shoulder to see—probably Michael, looking annoyed.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks. Michael waves him off. “Dog park,” he says shortly. “Where have you checked?”

“All the surfaces in here, and in and under the couch, and the kitchen,” Ethan says.

“I’ll check the kitchen again,” Michael announces briskly, and marches off.

Ethan sighs and wanders into the downstairs bathroom. Maybe one of them came in here right from letting Cat off the leash and forgot it on the counter—no dice.

“I know you want to go, Kitty,” Michael’s voice says from the kitchen. “We have to find your leash first. Where’s your leash, hm?”

Ethan leaves the bathroom and wanders to the back door, sliding it open to peer onto the patio. “Could we have taken it off in the back?”

“Why would we have let her in and then let her back outside?”

“I don’t know, I’m just speculating,” Ethan calls back, and goes onto the patio to check the deck furniture. It’s not there, obviously—Michael’s right, if they’d just let Cat in, the chances she’d want right out into the back are pretty low.

Ethan wanders back inside and takes in Cat’s big, pleading eyes at the door. She’s now holding her pillow. “Aw, Sketti, I’m sorry,” Ethan says, and walks over to give her some pets. “I know, I know, we’re trying—”

He doesn’t know why he glances into the corner where the pillow was just a moment ago, but he does.

“Found it!” he yells.

Michael strides back into the room, as Ethan walks over and picks it up. “Where was it?”

“I think Kitty-Cat grabbed it at some point and stashed it next to her pillow,” Ethan says, holding it up. He turns to their dog. “Did you try to hurry us up at some point, Noodle-noo? I’m sorry, we’re dumb and slow sometimes, aren’t we?”

Michael sighs, absently petting Cat’s head as Ethan walks over and grabs her collar, clicking the leash into place. “Take her out to the car? I’ll finish getting ready and grab her bag.”

“You got it,” Ethan says, and takes a quick kiss before opening the door and letting himself and Cat out the front. It’s a beautiful day—the dog park will be fun.

-

It’s a little thing, the sort of kiss they no longer even think about. Expected, automatic, an exchange that they have done so many times. The sort of kiss that, twenty years ago, neither of them would ever have even imagined becoming commonplace. A married kiss.

That’s what’s nice about it.

-

[mxrtified777]

Some Cain backstory please?

Sure thing!

As far as his childhood goes, the only really significant thing is that he wasn't really socialized properly. He has a lot of difficulty with social interactions as a result of that, as well as feeling generally outcasted from society due to being an Evo, even though he's very civil as far Evos go and incredibly intelligent by human standards. (He was a human throughout most of his childhood and mutated somewhere in his teenage years.) He has a general interest in people as a whole as well as the medicinal field and took up surgical practice because of it. Somewhere along the line, Cain begins eating freshly deceased corpses in the morgue of the hospital he works at because there's no such thing as a lunch break when you're a surgeon. Eventually, he gets caught and is about to face persecution, until out of nowhere, he's transported to another foreign world ruled by a rather troublesome and flighty deity. He becomes friends with Sketti, a younger Evo, and they start living together. Soon after, they find an abandoned robot in the depths of a cave, and now yeehaw theyre all best friends forever.

Aaaand heres some fun facts from the google doc

[spaghettiisinmysoul]

Guys… tomorrow, at the garden state anime fest… Taylor swift gets to go to a maid cafe as hatsune miku

[theslowpath]

🍳🛒 - lovesmenot2015

thank you for the ask this took ages because i was absolutely barren of ideas for a few days but here we are 🙏🏻

prompts:

cooking

shopping

au: father tenth/son tyler

summary: ten picks his first grade son up from school and takes him grocery shopping, and even lets him help make dinner

warnings: although this au is a dark/comship involving an adult man's inappropriate relationship with his elementary school aged son, this fic has no warnings. just wholesome father/son content this time.

tyler pushed the heavy doors open by leaning on them with all his body weight and ran out into the cold december air. immediately he saw his father waiting for him, his face lit up and his arms opening up for a hug. he threw himself into his arms and gave the tightest squeeze he could.

ten squeezed his son right back and swayed him a little too. he gave him a kiss on the cheek, making a little smooch sound. "how was school today tyty?" he asked as he stood up and held tyler's hand. the two began walking to the school parking lot.

"it was good! my teacher gave us goodie bags for christmas break!" tyler answered excitedly. today was the last day of school before their two week vacation. he held up the little gift bag for ten to see.

"oh, how nice... you saved some christmas candy for me, i hope?" he asked.

tyler went quiet. "no... i forgot, im sorry" he said, sounding ashamed as he looked down at his shoes.

ten laughed. "thats okay! im just teasing. that candy is yours, you deserve it"

tyler looked up again. "daddy... can we have hot cocoa when we get home?" he asked. please say yes, he thought.

"of course! but we need to do some shopping first, okay?" ten said as he unlocked his car.

tyler climbed into the back seat and buckled himself in. "okay!" he reached into his goodie bag and pulled out a christmas tree shaped eraser, still in its clear plastic wrapper. he fidgeted the eraser around in his hands while looking out the window as his dad drove away from his school. "... can we listen to the radio?" tyler asked.

ten nodded. "mhm!" he clicked on the radio and turned it to a classic rock station, knowing it was tyler's favorite.

the ride to the grocery store went by much faster with songs that tyler knew playing. he even sang along to a few of them, knowing some of the words. sometimes ten would laugh at tyler singing along.

"whats so funny?"

"oh its nothing" his dad said. "its just that this song isnt really for kids"

"oh" tyler said. he figured it was one of those things he would 'understand when he got older,' that his dad refused to explain.

the car finally came to a complete stop and ten took the keys out, turning the car off. "alright! groceries, here we come! allons-y"

tyler giggled at his dad's catchphrase and hopped out of the car. ten made sure to hold his son's hand and keep him as close as possible, since the store seemed pretty crowded today. his father's large hand firmly holding his smaller one felt warm and gave tyler a feeling of safety as they entered the building of loud noise and bright lights. he edged himself a little closer to ten, now hugging his arm.

ten pet tyler's head softly with his free hand and pulled him along gently. "come, now. lets get something for dinner tonight" he said. his voice was soft and kind.

"sketty..." tyler mumbled, then wondered if his dad even heard.

"hm? you want spaghetti?" ten asked.

tyler nodded, rubbing his face against ten's sleeve.

"lets get some noodles then..." he said. after a short walk to the pasta isle, ten grabbed a couple boxes of spaghetti noodles and tossed them into his shopping basket.

tyler perked up. "hey, we need sauce too!" he said as it occurred to him.

ten nodded and continued guiding his son around the various isles. "yep, yep, im getting to that"

they eventually retrieved a few cans of marinara sause and some mozzarella cheese.

"there we go! now we're all set" ten said. he brought tyler along as he paid for their food and left, all the while still holding tyler close and keeping him feeling warm and safe.

the car ride home was short. they kept the radio on, but turned the volume down a little to talk over it. tyler told his father some jokes he heard from other kids that day, conveniently forgetting the more rude and inappropriate ones.

their arrival home after a long day of school, and work for ten, felt like a warm blanket draped around their bodies. ten started the fireplace going as tyler sat on the couch. his big puffy coat and scarf were now hung on the hook by the door and he had wrapped himself up in a fuzzy blanket.

ten sighed as he stood up, having finally gotten the fire to stay going consistently. tyler got up and sat right in front of it to warm up faster. he held his hands out by the small window.

"careful! dont sit so close, okay tyty?" ten said, and pulled him back a couple feet. tyler whined, but didn't say anything. "... its okay, youll feel warmer when i give you your hot cocoa, remember?"

tyler perked up a little. thats right! he was getting hot cocoa.

ten disappeared into the kitchen and for a few minutes, tyler was alone. he looked up at the christmas tree and thought about how fun it was to help decorate it with his dad. the ornaments were sparkling in the light of the fire and the angel at the very top seemed to shine, with its bright white satin dress and feathered wings. tyler wiggled a little in excitement. he couldnt wait for his dad's friends to see it and tell him how good of a job he did helping to decorate.

soft footsteps entered the living room as ten approached tyler. he crouched down and sat next to his son on their shag carpet, holding a mug of steaming hot cocoa in each hand. he handed one to tyler carefully. "i put some milk in there so it should be cool enough to drink. just dont spill okay?" he said.

tyler took a sip. "mmmm!"

ten smiled. "good?"

he nodded.

the two sat and watched the fire in silence for a few peaceful minutes. tyler had his head resting on his father's shoulder and ten hummed softly, happy to spend time with his baby boy.

"okay... im gonna make dinner now" he finally said, breaking the silence.

tyler whined a little, not wanting ten to get up and leave their comfy position.

"oh, i know baby" ten said as he pet tyler. "how about you come help me make dinner? hm?"

tyler nodded and followed his dad to the kitchen. he watched as he started boiling a pot of water and put all the dry noodles in.

"stay away from the stove okay? this isnt the part i need help with yet" ten explained. "i dont want you to burn yourself"

"okay" tyler said. he watched ten take out a baking sheet and lay out some meatballs, then slide it into the oven.

"here, wanna play games while you wait?" ten asked. he took his phone out of his pocket and handed it to tyler.

tyler bounced excitedly and took the phone. "yeah!"

he focused hard on plants vs zombies, so much so that within just a few minutes he was completely sucked in. the room around him seemed to disappear as his focused stayed on the glowing screen and nothing else.

"okay... here we go" ten said. he took the steaming pot off the stove and held it over the sink, careful not to spill any boiling water on himself as he poured the contents into a strainer. a cloud of steam rose from the sink as the water went down the drain.

the noodles were soft now and looked much more appetizing than they did in the box, all stiff and dry. tyler licked his lips.

"its not ready yet! be patient" ten said through a chuckle. "this is the part i need help with, okay?"

tyler nodded, excited for whatever he was about to do. ten picked him up carefully and sat him on top of the counter. he was too little to help with dinner from where he stood on the floor, he could barely reach.

tyler watched ten pull the meatballs out of the oven. "im so tall! im flying!" he said.

"yes you are!" ten said. he poked tyler's nose gently with the tip of his finger. "boop! now... youre gonna take this biiggg spoon, and youre gonna stir stir stir! as good as you can! okay?" ten explained, and handed tyler a wooden spoon, then opened the cans of sauce and poured them into the pot of noodles.

tyler nodded. "yes!" he said, and immediately began mixing the noodles with the sauce. "it smells good... i want a bite now!" he said as he stirred the best he could.

"haha, me too! but we gotta wait until its all done, okay?" ten explained. "... here, try turning it over like this..." he took tyler's hand and showed him how to scoop the noodles from the bottom of the pot and turn them over so the sauce was mixed evenly. "this way theres no lonely noodles at the bottom"

tyler nodded and kept going. after a while, though, his arms got tired. he whined a little, feeling too tired to keep stirring but still wanting to continue. he was having fun.

"thats good! thank you so much, youre so helpful tyty!" ten said. he took the pot and kissed tyler on the forehead. "are we ready to dig in?"

tyler nodded excitedly. "yeah!"

ten chuckled. "okay, here we go..." he put some spaghetti in two bowls and put some meatballs in as well, and handed one to tyler. tyler couldnt stop himself from grinning widely, feeling very proud of himself for helping his daddy make dinner.

"mmm..." ten said after taking a bite. he waited until he had swallowed it to speak. "this is so good! ive never tasted spaghetti this good... what did you put in here?" he teased.

tyler giggled. "nothing daddy!"

"well, you did something. my meals are never this good when i make them myself..."

tyler giggled more and continued enjoying his dinner. he and his dad kept eating and talking until their bowls were empty and their hunger was satisfied. the two spent the rest of the evening playing video games together. well, really it was ten playing them. tyler only cuddled and watched. the games were much too hard for tyler and he would always get upset that he couldnt do it.

eventually he fell asleep in his father's arms, who turned off the console and carried him off to bed.

[floppyrat]

Still watching the hobbit 👀 seems we have a newcomer!!! Welcome Sketti :]!!!!

[image id: a photo of two stuffed animal possums, Sketti and Floppy, both facing a tv and watching the Hobbit. Thorin is on screen. End id]

[jooieluvr]

#1 Songs on Xdinary Heroes Birthdays🩵

Ok so ya girl got insanely bored and I just wanted to share my thoughts on these cause birthday hit songs match some people too god damn well😭

Gunil || July 24th 1998

The Boy Is Mine by Brandy and Monica

Jungsu || June 26th 2001

Lady Marmelade by Christina Augilera, Lil’ Kim, Mya and Pink

Gaon || January 14th 2002

How You Remind Me by Nickelback

O.de || June 11th 2002

Foolish by Ashanti

Junhan || August 18th 2002

Dilemma by Nelly ft. Kelly Rowland

Jooyeon || September 12th 2002

Dilemma by Nelly ft. Kelly Rowland

My Thoughts <3

I really love all of them. “The Boy is Mine” definitely sounds like it could be sung about Gunil. Mans is sexy!! Sculpted!! A piece of art!! Face card NEVER DECLINES!! PUT THIS MAN IN A MUSEUM BEFORE I-

ANYWAY… I can see two people arguing over Gunil romantically. If it hasn’t happened already 👀

My other personal favourite would be Dilemma for Jooyeon. I think it fits him slightly better than Junhan but either way it does work. It’s hard to explain but BRO!! I listened to this song last night while looking at pics of Jooie and THE VIBES HIT!! AND THEY HIT ME HAAAARRRRRDDDD!!! (That could just be cause I’m biased tho. Mans has my heart. I love him so much! Aaaahhhh😭🥰 Last time I was down this bad for an idol they ended up being nasty😭but that’s a story for another post if y’all want it🩵)

For funsies, Mine (November 12th 2002) is Lose Yourself by Eminem!😅

“Palms sweaty, knees weak, arms sketti, vomit sweater, ready, mum’s sketti, ✨n e r v o u s✨”

(Yes I’m exactly 2 months younger than Jooyeon, I’ve already freaked out about this)

Source:

[shaunsummers]

Tek's Birthday!

With a light twitch of her brow, Devin huffs in humor as a light perk appears on her lips, "Only if you're ready to get your ass beat." Who was she to say no? Devin could get a face full of that good ol' Cajun while Tek would be getting a face full of these hands! It was humbling, really. She couldn't think of the last time they just chilled.

------------------------

"You wish. The max damage I will inflict will be emotional...when I destroy you with the Wii Fit Trainer! We're gonna work on that fitness!" Tek pumps her fists in the air; it worked! The time for letting a few more squeaky farts out of Devin's grumbly balloon would be later, though, for now 'twas time for ALL THE SPAGHETTI.

[Later...]

"I had too much spaghetti." Tek croaks, leaning back in Rebel's arms to whine up at her; it was her goddamn birthday, so of course she claimed dibsies on the comfier couch. And dibsies on Rebel cuddles. She could already feel the garlic bread's sinister workings bubbling in her, and it'd only been half an hour! She could also see the physical manifestation of her shame sitting on her new costume: a tiny splash of sketti sauce, right above the bat signal. But it was so good. She'd almost cried while eating it. They did her so right on her birthiest of days; she scarfed down so many carbs and it was completely worth it.

"Lilith, you and Sierra did so goooodddd." Lilith took the last seat on the end—she probably would've stabbed someone for it, honestly—and Shaun was sitting super platonically on the floor in front of her, leaning up against her in the friendliest of ways. And watching Big Hero 6 with them, because SHE JUST LOVES PIXAR FILMS. JUST LIKE JADE, BUT DUH, SHE WAS DOING IT FOR HER LADY—which, oh no, Tadachi just died and now Sierra was crying.

"You haven't even tried it? Jesus. I'm changing that. Right now." Beatrix plants one of the two bottles of Stolichnaya vodka she'd hid in her backpack, and three shot glasses firmly in the middle of the dining table where she, Devin, and Robin were already working on getting plastered. It was this or a kid's movie, and they'd all just sort of gravitated. Plus, Devin made a face at the delectable potato juice of her homeland. How dare she. "We give you the fruits of our communist labor and all you fuckers gave us were a few thousand crates of Pepsi. Pepsi. Time to drink, capitalist scum." She orders sarcastically—still half serious, though—and fills them all a shot, slamming one down in front of Devin. She was not about to shit talk her vodka.

"And, you know, sorry for the genocide." Beatrix quips dryly, sliding one a bit gentler in front of Robin.

[deathproofpony]

Adolf

>"Wet go of fwuffy or giff biggest poopies!" >"Shuddup." >weary, your head aching, you've had it with this thing. you give it a hard slap on the ass. >"wahhhhhhhhhhhhh! meanie hooman huwt fwuffy!" >"I'll do worse than that if you don't SHUT UP." >sobbing to itself, the fluffy finally quieted down but it still strained against the makeshift leash >"Where to?" >"Rendezvous a kilometer up the road. From there we drive to the airfield, then fly to London." >"Then home." >"Damn right." >"Thank god." >Parker stared at the fluffy pony, trying to take in its bright red coat and white mane. It was like a walking, talking piece of candy. >talking. that was what none of the guys could get over. this freaky thing TALKED. >"And they just found it down there?" >"It was eating a plate of spaghetti..." >"SKETTIS?" >"Shut the fuck up! Anyway, yeah... they found a couple of Picassos, a bunch of gold, and this... thing." >"It looks like a little horse." >"Calls itself a fluffy pony. I'm no expert, but my dad was a country vet... this thing seems to have aspects of rabbit, pony, dog, even... human components." >"Those sick fucks." >"Well, maybe, maybe not." >the two men continued up the road, anxious to get to the pickup site. >"They were dabbling in all sorts of weird shit. Occultism. Witchcraft. One guy said they had religious artifacts... like a piece of the true cross and shit." >"So?" >"So they're messing with all sorts of forces they can't control. True, they could have bred this thing... but maybe it came from... someplace else." >"Huh." >they walked in silence a bit further. the fluffy, no longer able to control itself, finally started in with the complaining again >"NU WIKE WEASH! WAN SKETTIS! NU WIKE MEANIE HOOMANS! GIFF POOPIES!" >it turned, raising its tail... but an experienced solider like you is always on alert. you nimbly side-step the spray of foul feces that emitted from the creature's rear end >"Missed me, idiot." >"wahhhhh! nu faiwr!" >"Dammit, man, shut that thing up!" >"Sorry, sir." You smack the crap out of the fluffy, whacking its rear end and then a couple of shots upside its head >"Fucking quiet down or I'll beat the holy hell out of you..." >you brandish a stick, which immediately freaks out the pony. >"nu wan sowwy stick! fwuffy sowwy! fwuffy sowwy!" >"What're you gonna do when you get back?" >"There's a diner up the street from my parents house that makes the best chocolate cream pie in the world. I'm eating an entire one of those motherfuckers myself... I remember..." >*ping!* >the telltale ricochet of a bullet interrupted Parker's story. instinctively you both duck behind a large rock, yanking the fluffy with you >"GAK! nu wike weash!" >"SHUDDUP!" >Parker glanced around, finally spotting a lone sniper in a tree a hundred feet away. >signaling to each other, you ready your guns... >and the fluffy pony gets loose. >motherfucker. >panicking, the ridiculously-colored animal bolts into the road. bullets pop into the dirt around it, causing it to panic more >"eeeee! eeeee! nu wike woud noises! wan go home! WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" >the sniper temporarily distracted, you and Parker light him up with your rifles. the body falls from the tree, lifeless >"I'm gonna kill this piece of shit... giving us away... I don't give a good goddam what the scientists say. They can escort this retard themselves." >you leap at the fluffy, unleashing a bevvy of punches and kicks at it. it howls and cries the whole time, pathetically begging you to stop. out of breath, your muscles aching, you finally let up. the pony lays on the ground, broken and bleeding >"Wan die..." >Parker, with an angry grimace on his face, walks up and pops a bullet into the pony's chest. it dies, still trying to mutter something about hurties or owies or its momma or whatever the fuck. >"What did you see, sir?" >"Damn shame... enemy got a hold of the fluffy and beat it up, then used it as a shield. Had to put a bullet through it to get them." >"Yep. That's what I saw, too." >thankfully, the troop transport was just another few hundred feet away. sticking the pony's remains in an extra sack, you and Parker manage to drag your tired bodies over. >"The hell's that?" mutters a grizzled sergeant, chewing on an old cigar. >"Hitler's fluffy pony. It... didn't make it." >"I don't know what you're talking about, but it sounds like you boys need a drink." >"Goddam right we do." >the troop carrier pulls away. you silently thank God and the saints for delivering you from this hellhole. in a matter of hours, Germany would be far behind and you'd be headed home. >with a dead fluffy pony. but still home. >fucking Hitler.

[ruizelena]

#missmovingon >> elena ruiz

pronouns: she/her age: 30 birthday: august 20th job: bartender at sketti ristorante

tldr - a messy, immature silly goose who is recovering from a heap of trauma and from being a serious goose most of her life

cw: parental death, emotional abuse, depression

wanted connections - tbd.

personality -

elena is scrappy! you can take the girl out of the kitchen, but you can't take the kitchen out of the girl. she's a hustler, she knows how to finish a fight, she's lied to a cop and would do it again.

as of this moment, elena's only goal in life is to have fun and release as many of her worries as is humanly possible on a limited budget. she doesn't care about her career and she doesn't care about planning for the future. she just wants to Live™

the 2 most significant attachments in her life: her dad and her cat. she takes care of them both. she and her dad are in the process of really getting to know each other for the first time in their lives, and she really values that time with him

though elena's gregarious nature may suggest a certain amount of nativité, the exact opposite is true. elena is extremely slow to trust, especially with men. it's all fun and games until you stumble onto a certain part of her past, and then she clams up so hard that you might not hear from her for a week

past - emotional abuse, depression, & parental death here

elena's mom passed away when she was a kid. her death was preventable, but obstetric care in the kitchen is subpar. she and her dad never had the money to bring a malpractice suit, so they were forced to try to move on. her dad became a shell of his former self, and elena began to shoulder a significant amount of household responsibilities at a young age

for this reasons, she always knew she wanted to leave home. she worked hard in school, hoping she might get a scholarship to an out of state university, but the competition was stiff, and she was no genius.

when she was 18, she met the man who would go on to ruin her life. he was five years older than her and finishing up his third year of law school in the diamond district. she thought she loved him, but looking back, she loved that he was a door marked exit.

when he graduated, as promised, he took her with him to a promised job at a firm across the country. he was the only person she knew there, and he was emotionally abusive, making it impossible to make new friends. she was extremely depressed. she got engaged to him, and she lost about ten years of her life to that relationship.

and then, the best thing ever happened - he died! he died before they could get married. it was a blessing; elena fled back to new zeppelin, wanting desperately to start over in a familiar place.

present -

elena has been back in new zeppelin for about a year and a half now! because her twenties were spent attached to someone who essentially wouldn't allow her to have any fun, she's experiencing all the joys of young adulthood for the first time

she's also reconnecting with people from her past. this is a little complicated, because she essentially dropped off of the face of the planet. it's hard for her to explain and talk about why; in most cases, she just doesn't

she's desperate to make friends - especially friends who are women. women are the only people she feels like she can really, truly trust. even then, it's hard for her to open up about her past

she's in a try anything phase! she never really got the chance to be immature like this. she was taking care of her dad in high school, and she was spiraling throughout her twenties. if she goes overboard sometimes, it's only because she's making up for lost time