#toddler bike training

[tanuandthetriplets]

Triplets Ka Cycle Training!! | Attempt One | Triplets Vlog - 28th Nov'23

[bluebirdsongs16]

Gabriel, season 1: I do not sully the temple of my celestial body with gross matter.

Gabriel, season 2: This is Jim's hot chocolate. The hot chocolate for Jim. In the mug specifically chosen for Jim. Jim's hot chocolate.

[yawansomecheekinlad]

listen I'm sorry but if you're top of the pl table and you've breached 115 rules to get there and you're playing some small team you should just not get penalties you've got hundred million pound players and two starting lineups fucking score yourselves ya don't need it to be spoonfed to you.

[the-ace-with-spades]

(an unfinished post I found as I scrolled through my drafts on the train to glasgow. putting it out there as i feel... something rn)

Whenever I think of Mav and Ice as Bradley's parents/parental figures, no matter what the scenario is, I always imagine that Ice is the softer one and Mav is the stricter one.

No matter whether the child acquisition happens when Bradley is in elementary school or when he's a teenager, I think Mav would already be more used to parenting Bradley, even if he'd never call it that, simply because I can't imagine him not helping Carole throughout the years. I imagine he's seen Bradley's first tantrums and was the one Carole called whenever Bradley was acting out, or whenever she felt like Bradley needed a 'man's hand' regarding issues with boys at school or was about to hit the big milestones like learning to ride a bike or start school or outgrow the car seat or anything that she felt she would be too emotional about to keep Bradley's confidence up. They'd always come to pick Mav up from deployment and would be at all of Mav's ceremonies and big events and it all worked in both ways --- Mav was a parent and Carole and Bradley were his family. He'd never call himself a dad, not even when Bradley started sometimes calling him that whenever explaining to the other kids that he's 'kinda like his dad' and Carole said it was okay, but he was a parent.

For a while after Bradley moves in with them, Ice is stuck in the fun uncle mode because that's who he was before. Carole called Mav whenever she needed help with parenting issues, and Ice was there when no one was available --- to watch Bradley when Mav and Carole were at PTA, or take him to the beach with Slider when Carole and Mav were at work on a Saturday, or to buy Bradley way too many birthday presents despite their protests. He's not here for discipline or to manage the tantrums or to guide Bradley from a toddler to a kid to a teenager to a young adult --- he's here to spoil him in ways Mav or Carole can't.

Even when Carole falls ill and he takes more responsibilities around Bradley, he's still managing them in the 'fun uncle' mode. He picks up Bradley from school and takes him out to eat junk food or out for ice cream, or takes him to baseball practice and ends up buying him a whole new set of equipment on the way, lets him stay up late and lets him eat too much sugar and then takes him out to the playground despite misbehaving and unfinished homework so Bradley can get rid of the energy.

When Carole passes away, it gets to the point where Mav has to have a talk with him.

When it became clear Carole wasn't going to make it, Mav and Carole sorted out her will, including Bradley's care. Mav had a whole breakdown about it, far away from Bradley's eyes, and when he told Ice he didn't know how he was going to do it all alone, Ice promised he wouldn't have to, that they would do it together.

But Carole passes away and Bradley starts acting out, like most grieving kids, and Ice is still stuck in the 'fun uncle' mode. He doesn't know what to do when Bradley sulks after school, or refuses to go to school in the morning, or refuses to eat what they made for dinner, or when he doesn't want to sleep alone, or 'forgets' to pack his backpack. He just---stands there and observes as Bradley gets chewed up by Mav. Or Bradley gets sent to his room to go and finally do his homework after the third time he comes back with a warning from his teacher and Ice can't get his sad face out of his mind and sneaks into his room and maybe helps him a bit too much with said homework. When Bradley doesn't want to eat the dinner he's cooked, even though he asked him three times what he'd want before he started cooking, he caves in and orders takeouts despite spending nearly two hours in the kitchen.

Mav is tired. He doesn't like being the bad guy all the time, he can't do everything either, and Ice disregarding any sort of discipline or change he tries to implement is not helping at all.

"You can't be the fun uncle anymore," is what Mav tells him. "I need you to be his parent, with me. I can't have you both working against me."

The thing is, Ice's never expected to be a parent. He realized he's gay since he was about fifteen and knew that if he ever married, it'd be a levander marriage, with a wife he'd never touch and probably divorce fast enough that the lack of kids would be understandable. He hasn't been around many kids either, mostly isolated throughout most of his childhood, certainly not enough to see healthy parenting in place. As a kid himself, he was mostly self-sufficient, with his mom dead and his father absent or disapproving most of the time. It's the only thing that got stuck with him when he's around Bradley --- he never wants the kid to feel alone or like he's doing something wrong just because the adults are not appropriative of it. He sees himself in Bradley whenever he looks upset when they tell him what to do or when they punish him for misbehaviour or when he simply doesn't know how to make it better for him. Spoiling Bradley is so much easier than denying him anything or even negotiating a compromise for him.

Mav might have been like Bradley in a lot of ways, but his mom never had a family friend that could take on a parental role for him --- he had to fill the void his dad left in their family from a very young age. When he entered foster care when she passed, he didn't have many options. It was either misbehaving and ruining his life before it started with a suspended sentence or an accident or pulling himself together. In some foster families it was misbehaving and not eating or walking around with a black eye or behaving and staying above the water line until they would relocate him again. He knew what discipline was and he met many many parental figures he could learn from, both bad and good stuff. He's met kids that were older than him and then became them and met kids younger than him. Learned tricks and things that work for certain development stages, learned parenting can't just be soft if he wanted to keep the kid alive and healthy.

So Ice starts to learn, slowly. Saying no is still really hard, but he starts negotiating and asking for things. Starts telling Bradley to do things he doesn't like. Sometimes he helps him do those things, but doesn't do them for him anymore, not from start to finish anyway. He tells Bradley Mav is right and he should listen to him, explains why he's right whenever Bradley talks back when Mav chews him out. He starts getting a grip on the things parents are supposed to be there to make sure that are happening --- homework, food, cleaning Bradley's room, making sure the kid is showering and sleeping, wearing clean clothes, managing tantrums and outbursts in a way that is different than caving in and leaving Bradley to deal with them alone. They become a team again, Ice as Mav's wingman in the whole parenting gig.

Mav starts to breathe again.

Eventually, Bradley grows out of the grieving phase. He's still a teenager, but Ice likes to think they did an alright job sorting him out. He's a sensitive kid, still, and Ice likes to think Bradley knows it's okay, that they love him no matter what. He likes to remind himself that the instances when Bradley makes puppy eyes at them to ask for a new guitar or for extra money for a theater or when he just crawled between them on the couch or the moments when he rumbles on about some asshole from his class freely as he peels potatoes for Ice --- he reminds himself Bradley feels loved enough to not feel like those moments are a burden on them. Reminds himself he's not only alive and healthy, but also happy and they made sure of that.

When Bradley calls Mav dad for the first time and Mav is mortified, Ice finds himself jealous. For the first time in his life, he realizes he wants to be a dad. Then he realizes he wants to be Bradley's dad and he feels equally mortified as Mav. Neither of them was ever supposed to be Bradley's dad.

Ice is still a bit softer. It's not that Mav can't be fun --- he can tease the kid, play around with him, take him on outings and places that Bradley enjoys more than anything. He is the one who takes him flying for the first time and the one that screams at his matches, and the one who teases Bradley relentlessly as he helps him prepare for his first date. But Ice gives in a bit more easily, let's Bradley make the choices a bit more freely as he grows up.

They both hover but in different ways --- Mav is always, always kind of around, trying to protect Bradley from anything he can, especially as the years go on and he realises how much shit teenagers get into. Ice likes to think Bradley is sensible and that even if something happened, he knows he can count on them and would let them help him if need be.

Mav watches like a hawk as if Bradley could ruin his life with one wrong move and tried to predict if it will happen at any given moment. Ice isn't stupid, he knows Bradley is going to fuck up time and again, everyone does. But unlike Mav, he doesn't want him to have a perfect, unproblematic life. He wants him to feel safe and loved enough that no problem would seem too big or irreversible.

[daydreamgoddess14]

Saturday Mornings

MASTERLIST

🤸‍♀️ Well , well, well, didn't take long to get me back on my bullshit, did it? 🤣 I bring you a Roy Kent smutty one shot. Enjoy the gorgeousness of this man 🥵

Roy doesn't have a thing for Phoebe's dance teacher. Until he does. 👀

For @littleesilvia 😘

Saturday Mornings

Saturday morning had always been for Phoebe. From the day she was born, Roy had dedicated every Saturday morning to her. In the first weeks of her birth, he'd let himself into his sister's house and picked up a squawking Phoebe from the moses basket and taken care of her from 6-10 am so his sister could get more sleep. In those early days, he'd spoken to her in his deep, gruff voice while she drifted in and out of sleep. Then they'd go for a walk to the shop, the neighbours peeping into the buggy until Roy had growled at them to "Fuck off and stop gawping at her, she's trying to fucking sleep." As she got a little older, it became cartoons and cereal - devoured together on the sofa, and then a trip to the park. He'd arranged everything for 9 years around his Saturday mornings with Phoebe. Even away matches with a midday kick off didn't stop him, it didn't matter if it was an hour, or five hours - match day or no match day, rain or shine, if he was single or not, Uncle Roy would be there. Their time alone together moved through her swimming lessons phase, gymnastics phase, and morphed into his coaching her kids team. He wanted to be on board with this next phase - really, he did. 

 

After 8 weeks of lessons, he'd finally put his finger on what the problem was. The dancing was nothing new, Phoebe had tried ballet, tap, some weird toddler baby dance shit. 16 weeks ago, she'd switched to some kind of pop/tween dance class with a lovely older woman who mostly sat to one side and pointed to each move, each music transition. It had been great, 8.30-9.30am every Saturday, fucking wonderful. Then 8 weeks ago, that woman had switched classes and you had taken over. You, with your tight Tik Tok leggings and your cropped t-shirt. You who showed the kids each move over and over again. The number of dad's attending the class had suddenly gone up. It had been 6 months since he thought that he and Keeley could try again, but she'd made it clear that that was not the case. He'd been single for longer than 6 months before, sure, but not for a long time. Back then in his younger days, he'd thought nothing of a mutually convenient resolution with a friend until he met his next significant other. He’d come to the conclusion now that he was too fucking old for a friends with benefits situation. 

 

If it was just Saturday mornings that were the problem, he could live with that. He started out by taking a book and ignoring the class completely, but Phoebe did not like that at all. So he switched to audiobooks, brought a pair of fucking ear buds so he could drown out the sound of your voice, your gentle encouragement and the giggles. If it wasn’t the leggings going to tip him over the edge, it was going to be the giggles. Or the praise. Weird, he didn’t realise he had a bit of a praise kink before. Then he heard you in a breathy voice saying something that definitely could apply to situations other than a 9 year olds dance class and nearly had to leave the room. No, it wasn’t just Saturday mornings anymore. You came to mind now at the most inconvenient times. Sitting on the bike while Jamie pulled him along at 5am when shouting at Jamie in the street would have been frowned upon and they instead trained quietly, whenever one of the kids dance routine songs came on the radio and he was forced to relive watching you teach them, at night in the dark when he was alone, in the shower… He absolutely had to stop thinking about you like this. Like you’d see it in his eyes when you waved good morning, or when he held his bank card over your little hand held machine to pay for the classes. He also couldn’t stand the very much married men who flirted so openly with you. Clearly telling their wives at home, no love, I’ll take little… Mabel to dance class, you stay here and have a lie in and a cup of tea.  

 

It was funny how they’d migrated from the later morning class which was run by a woman who had the body shape of a fucking pencil. Beautiful, yeah she wasn’t bad. But she didn’t have the strong thighs you did, the sweeping curve of your hip into a cute little waist. He couldn’t go another week like this. Had to stop now, stop being so pervy. He was no better than the other blokes who came to watch their kids' class. Except he was slightly better, because he was actually single. 

“Uncle Roy, we’re here, come on!” Phoebe was already half out of the car. He braced himself for another week of torture.

“Good morning guys! Come in, I’m just getting set up.” You called out from across the room. He was a bit too early really. Not intentionally, of course not. You were still in your hoodie, still setting up the portable speaker and drinking a Costa coffee. You put a song on in the background and he had to hold his breath while you pulled off the warm grey sweater. As it came off, it pulled the baggy cropped t-shirt up as well, exposing your sports bra underneath, the soft skin of your stomach. It was definitely soft whenever he thought about it anyway. You straightened yourself out and sat on the floor, stretching your legs out in front of you and reaching forward to your toes. Phoebe lept out of her seat, threw her coat at Roy and plonked herself down in front of you, mirroring your pose. “Joining me for a warm up Phoebs?” 

“It’s important to warm up. My Uncle Roy is a football coach and he says it’s the most important part.”

“He’s not wrong.” You smiled, moving through some other poses and stretches. He was a dead man. This was it. The end, this was how it was going to go. You stretch your arms up as far as you can reach them, stretching out your back with a little pop. He tried to ignore the fucking Grecian vase shape your body made, truly. Until you’d made a noise a little too close to a moan for his liking, followed by, “Holy shit that feels good.”

 

Fucking hell. Fucking hell .

 

“Sorry Phebs, didn’t mean to swear.”

“It’s ok. I’ll let you off the first time, but you owe me a pound next time.”

“Aww thanks.” The class soon filled up, he wished he’d taken a seat way at the back, out of the way so he could either look at you without it being so noticeable, or ignore you completely. He totally respected your classes, he really did. It was a tricky thing, conducting an age appropriate class for 9 year olds which avoided sexualising dance moves but also made them feel like they were able to move their bodies how they wanted to. Of course, it’s not always the dance moves themselves which could be seen as sexual, more often it’s the person watching who makes that connotation. And he tried so, so hard not to do that. Tried desperately to not think about how your body would move underneath his, on top of his, the beautiful sounds he could draw from you. He needed to get out, feigned a phone call, holding up his phone as he got to the door so you knew he’d be right outside if Phoebe needed anything. He didn’t think you’d even seen him until you gave him a little thumbs up. 

 

At the end of the class, you encourage the kids to just sit for a minute. You all usually end up sprawled on your backs, not having to make eye contact makes it easier for some of the kids to talk openly if they wanted help or an opinion on something. It was somewhat of an eye opener for the parents as well. This week, you had the kids sit up so they could see you, 

“I thought I might take you on a little trip, if you guys fancy it? I was going to go and see the new Barbie film after class next week. If any of you want to come with me, with your grown up - of course - then we could have a really exciting morning! I’m not allowed to take any of you without another grown up though, ok? So you’ll have to check with them first.” You handed each of them a little pink party invite. He already knew before Phoebe asked. Their match next week was on Sunday so he was free all of Saturday morning. He had no excuse to not take her, he also didn’t think he wanted one. 

 

He hoped you were a little bit dumb. It was a horrible thought, he knew that, to wish stupidity on someone. But if there was any chance of him making a full recovery and banishing you to the depths of his mind, never to turn up again - especially not when he was in the shower with his hand around himself, he really fucking hoped that you were dumber than a box of rocks. You weren’t. He already had an inkling of that, but he could still live in hope. 

“Fancy the Barbie movie next week?” You’d asked brightly as he’d held out his card to pay, he wasn’t sure if it was the physical and mental turmoil of having to watch you for the last hour, but he thought he could detect a sliver of hope in your voice.

“Fucking probably, she won’t let me say no.” Phoebe held out a hand for her pound. “Add it to my tab.” 

 

And of course, that’s how he found himself in a dark cinema the following week with a gaggle of kids around him. He was still trying to work out if it was a blessing or a curse that he’d ended up sitting next to you - it had certainly earned him glares from one or two of the other grown ups. As you laughed again at another joke aimed to sail just over pre-teen heads, he knew it was a curse. It had to be. Forced to listen to that laugh for two hours? Fucking torture. When you cried, he knew he was done for. He reached over, just a little and patted the back of your hand in comfort. Just a little there, there gesture. You’d only fucking gripped his hand and squeezed it, he stole a glance at you and you’d given him a watery smile and a little lopsided shrug. Then you’d let go of his hand, and turned back to the movie. He had to spend the remaining 45 minutes of the film trying not to think about your warm hands carefully exploring his body. 

 

The following week, he did it.

“Would you like to go for a coffee sometime?” He asked quietly as his card payment went through. He didn’t think you’d heard him until you looked up sharply.

"Aren't you like way out of my league?"

"What league is that then?”

“Well, you're in the ridiculously fit footballer league? Y’know for people who date supermodels and influencers?”

“I wouldn't fucking know about that.”

“I'm sure you would, I'm sure they don’t kick you out once you retire. Once a fit footballer, always a fit footballer? Is that the name of it? The… F. I. T? Or is it just the R.F.F.L?”

“What's that stand for?”

“No idea, it's your league, you tell me. Footballers Into Tits?”

“That’s a shit acronym”

“I know. I can do better, promise. Give me a minute.”

“I'm sure you'd be alright in that league” He said quietly,

“Excuse me? That was very cheeky. Ohh, maybe it could stand for ‘Filthy rich but Impossibly Tedious’?”

“That’s pretty good, definitely suits some footballers I know. Alright, fine. What fucking league are you in, then?”

“Whatever the Conference equivalent of the F.I.T is.”

“Now that can’t be true.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know?”

“I just fucking do. Is it a yes to coffee?”

“I mean, I still think you’re way too high up the F.I.T for me, but sure.”

“It’s the R.F.F.L actually.” He smirks as you hand him a flyer for the class. 

“My number is on there.” You tell him, then you’d walked away without taking his number, which meant he was going to have to be the one to contact you first. No, you definitely weren’t dumb. Shit .

 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was a combination of factors really, a busy week at work meant though he’d messaged you quickly, he wasn’t actually able to meet for coffee until the end of the week. So you’d spent all week in a message exchange which had ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous.

“Would you rather fight 100 tiny Jamie Tartt’s or 1 giant one?”

“100 tiny ones. I’d fucking stamp on them all.”

“Figured out what league you’re in.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Champions League.”

“Fuck off am I. I’ve wikipedia’d your dating history mate. Gina Gershon? I think I should cancel coffee now…”

“Fuck, please don’t.”

“Do you always try so hard to look like you’re not looking at dance class?”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uhuh. Ok.”

“Yes, I do. Every week is torture.”

“Jamie says I’m too old for the R.F.F.L.”

“Maybe that works in my favour. If I’m up against Gina fucking Gershon, I’d have no chance.”

“You’re not up against anyone.”

“I've been thinking about you all morning.”

“Was that flirting? Were you just flirting with me?”

“Shut up. See you later.”

And now… well. Coffee at 3pm on a Friday turned into dinner at 6pm, dessert at 8pm and a nightcap at 10pm in his kitchen. You tapped the edge of your empty tumbler,

“Another?” He asked, leaning against the counter just across from you.

“No, thank you. I should… go.” The lift at the end meant it could have been a statement, could have been a question. He nodded,

“Early class.”

“Yep. I think we lost track of time.”

“Or not,” he offered,

“Or not,” you bit your lip and he felt indecision fluttering in his chest. He pushed off the counter and closed the gap between you both in only one step.

“If I kissed you now, would you be mad?” He asked softly, he could see your body tremble with the breath you took.

“Think I’d be more mad if you didn’t.” He watched you hold his gaze for as long as you could before looking at his mouth. He took the tumbler from you and put it on the counter before placing a careful hand on your hip and leaning down to kiss you. The warm whisky taste of vanilla and honey mingled with the chocolate from your dessert and Roy realised that no, he hadn’t been tortured before, watching you teach a bunch of kids how to dance wasn’t the way he was going to go. This was. Right here in his kitchen with your arms winding around his neck and bringing him as close as you could possibly get him. Your fingers scratching through his hair. He pressed you into the counter, 

“I’ve thought about doing this for a long time,” he whispered, kissing down your neck, making you gasp. He pulled away quickly, worried that it was too much too soon, “Shit, sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” He went to move further back to give you space but your hands gripped his shirt to pull him back in,

“Please, I don’t want to stop,” you breathed heavily, “I don’t want you to stop.” You said, more firmly. He was against you again in an instant,

“Sure?” He asked, “You’re sure?” You stepped up to kiss him, making your feelings very clear,

“I’m sure.” Your fingers flew to the buttons of his shirt, undoing the first couple. He pulled you away from the counter, strong arms wrapped around your back and lifted you enough to move you both to the sofa. You stumbled against the cushions, falling backwards and pulling him with you so that he landed heavily on top of you.

"Oof."

“Fuck, sorry. You ok?” He sits back up on his knees, allowing you to automatically move your legs to either side of his and sit up,

“Never better,” his smile catches you off guard, “fuck, you’re gorgeous.” You mumble, reaching for him. The feeling is more than mutual. He needs to feel your kiss again, desperate to feel your skin on his. It’s better than anything he’d spent the last 8 weeks dreaming of. And the sounds you made as his hands and kisses explored your body were enough to drive him insane. He moves further down your body, pulling your skirt down with him and immediately turns to trail kisses and little bites along your inner thigh while his hand reaches up to link fingers with yours.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his breath hot against your hip. The simple request alone made your body turn to liquid against him. He’d spent so long thinking about (denying, debating, ignoring) the effect you had on him, he hadn’t actually considered that you would be just as affected by him. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he looked y’know, alright , for an older bloke. But still, seeing it first hand… seeing it first hand, hearing it first hand, from you was really something else entirely. You tugged his hand to bring up back up to you but he shook his head, his beard catching the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, “busy,” he said, his voice muffled. He focused on nothing but you, losing himself in each gasp, moan and clutch of your hand still holding his. He worked you through one bone-shaking orgasm without stopping, leaving you a shuddering mess as he went straight for another. Looking up at you, he could see the hand that wasn’t clinging onto him had covered your eyes. This time when you squeezed his hand, he made his way back up your body and settled between your legs. “You ok?” he asked, leaving soft kisses on your jaw before finally capturing your mouth in a filthy kiss. You didn’t speak, just shook your head. “You taste fucking incredible.” He kissed you again and you whimpered, finally moving your hand away from your eyes.

“I’ve got a problem.”

“Oh yeah?” He said, moving back to your neck, a hand slipping behind you to unclip your bra.

“Yeah I thought you’d only want a one night thing but that’s impossible now.”

“It was fucking impossible anyway. One night is definitely not enough time.”

“Oh,” you whispered weakly. “Good. Please-, oh fuck,” he caught a nipple lightly between his teeth, “please don’t stop.” So he didn’t, and he never would again if it was up to him. When he’d been (much) younger, he fully grasped the importance and concept of consent. He was a professional footballer - it wasn’t just important, it was crucial. But as he’d gotten older, he finally realised just how much better saying, and hearing, the words made everything. Being able to ask, “may I?” and “I need to hear you say it” and waiting, waiting, waiting, for the breathy response had never left him so wrecked before. He pushed into you in long, slow strokes while you met him with each roll of your hips. When you hold his jaw tightly to bring his gaze to yours, he nearly falls apart but he's determined to get you there first and he knows you're so close. "You feel so good-," you whisper, "So good."

"Fuck, I need-"

"I know, I'm right with you." His name is on you lips as you come and he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. When he joins you, he kisses you with such depth it's like you were made for him. You lay still together for a while as you catch your breath. He keeps his nose in the crook of your neck while his hand softly smooths across your ribs and the side of your breasts. Your legs no longer lock around him, you stretch out and enjoy the weight of his body covering you. 

"'M crushing you," he mumbles. His voice so low in your ear makes you shiver and despite you not being ready for another round quite so soon, your hips buck, "Fucking hell, give me a minute," he laughs.

"You're not crushing me, and I'm not ready yet either," you grin into his hairline and kiss his temple. 

"Hmm if you say so." He rocks against you, half hard again already, needing to hear the broken little moan that ghosts over his head. "Come on, I want you in a bed this time."

 

He wasn't happy when you had to tear yourself from his bed at 7am to go home. He wasn't happy when he picked Phoebe up at 8am. He wasn't happy in the drive thru Costa queue at 8.10am. He was happy at 8.20am when he finally got to hand you your coffee and see your smile as you stretched out on the floor of the dance studio. He was perfectly happy knowing that you'd be torturing his Saturday mornings for a while longer. 

 

FIN

[hornydilfsinyourarea]

Hello!!! I really gotta say that I love your bots :D

And i wanted request a M4M Gaz bot maybe in a scenario where we're his neighbor. He can be bearly home given how many missions he has to deal with but whenever he's home he's eager to talk with his neighbor (that he definitely doesn't have a crush on)

oohhh and maybe the neighbor is a father

you can totally skip or delete this btw just wanted to say how I appreciate your work 🙏

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x DILF! Neighbor! User

Author's note: Sorry it took me so long to make this, I kinda lost it in my saves somewhere. I literally just finished it today, so I'm also posting it (don't worry, I tested it before hand). Also, hope you don't mind that I made it NSFW, just wanted to save you guys the trouble of trying to sleep with him, I also slightly changed it, hope you also don't mind that.

Scenario: "After moving from base to base, Gaz's captain finally decided to settle the base down somewhere quiet, and Gaz finally also got to settle down, getting a house by the nearest neighborhood to the base- though, some would find it useless buying a house seeing that Gaz is in the military and almost always on duty, he just wanted somewhere to cool down and get away from, and the neighborhood he choose was quite quiet, and the houses there looked nice too, so that was a bonus. So, when Gaz's boss let Gaz have a 2-month vacation, he took it, his body was already sore from all the training and missions he goes on and what not. As Gaz settled in his knew house, it was around 10am now- and then he heard something, giggling coming from outside, it sounded like a girl, a small one at that, so he opened his curtain a bit- seeing how a same girl rides her plastic bike between his and his neighbor's front yard while giggling, it brought a smile to Gaz's face, but when he looked further on, he finally saw the father of said child, you, Gaz could feel his breath hitch a bit upon seeing you standing there, a smile on your face as you watched your daughter, it made Gaz feel something he hadn't felt before, it was two feelings, two unfamiliar feelings

Warning: NSFW! non-established relationship (only mentioned that user and Gaz got close enough to have sex with each other), user is a single father to a girl toddler, Gaz developed baby fever after seeing user's daughter (and I mean major baby fever), Gaz has feelings about wanting to be a father one day and being user's daughter's second father, user is mentioned to being nice to hang with, and making corny dad jokes, user's job is not mentioned, or if user's daughter is user's biological daughter (written to be like that, but never mentioned or implied), not mentioned if user has an ex-lover or anything, only mentioned that user is a single father (user's backstory is completely up to you)

Sleeping with his hot DILF neighbor ^link to bot^

[brucewaynehater101]

Fake Uncle is brilliant! Love it!

Bruce: so the uncle was real?

Tim: yup

Bruce: but he's an evil uncle???

Tim: yup

Bruce: why did you never tell me??

Tim *blinks: it never came up. Duh.

Well, for the Drakes. I was thinking they'd be aliens as well. But even within their culture they were aloof. Like maybe as strategists but not someone with a family circle. They had no clue what to do with a child. But, their king handed them a baby with his final breath. Earth looked safe, so that's where they went.

I'm sure they were baffled by earth human customs. I imagine raising children is different on earth. They were, however, good at negotiations, so they worked their way up the social ladder, hoping to give Tim a better life (not quite princely, but close).

I really like the idea about them searching for artifacts to teach Tim about their home!!! Good idea!! I'll have to use that!

The Drakes tried, but I think they mostly threw money at Tim. New bike? Sure. Want to learn Mandarin? Why not? Want a new nanny cause the last one was rude? Of course, your highness! Immediately!

New nannies happened all the time because timbo was a brat and fired them for petty stuff as a little kid.

Kori would be a fun add-on! Maybe she offers Tim slightly wrong advice culturally.

K: -and do this! It's very important!

T: does it.

Staff: Noooooo! This is WRONG!

T and K: confused.

Tim was trained that he was a prince, but he also was taught that it was very, very unlikely that he would take the throne. (The Drakes died later)

EXACTLY! That's along the lines I was thinking, but I'm not super great at making up funny traditions yet. Lol.

You are CORRECT about Tim "not being able to change rules" and "unstable position". It makes sense for the AU.

Ridiculous subjects are in the plan!

Subject: I have brought you this gift Your Highness. *bows with jar of slime.

Tim*is concerned: it's moving?!

Subject *shocked: Of course, Highness! I would only bring you alive Grummk!

Tim: .....ok....thank you?

Damian would be fascinated and JEALOUS me thinks.

I am so vibing with the Drakes trying their best and being so clueless as well. I'd love to see a scene or two of Janet and Jack just arguing with each other as toddler Tim causes chaos in the background.

Janet: "Is he climbing the tree in the backyard?"

Jack: "Yeah. I saw an article about human kids and trees or something."

Janet: "Is he climbing the tree that the gardener sectioned off for safety?"

Jack: "Yes?"

Janet: ".... I'm sure it'll be fine."

Tim ended up with a broken arm.

I liked the court scene you had! Stuff like that would be hilarious to read ^^

Are there any differences between Tim/the Drakes and humans? It would be funny if it's something small, especially that all humans have (like the ability to taste cinnamon or something). Just traits that Tim is able to get away with by leaning into his "I was neglected by my 'parents' and thus have no clue how to do normal human things like the human I totally am." Any physical traits (like a blue birthmark) could be cool as well.

Tim, if you wanted, could also bond with Kara and Clark about being an alien raised on Earth.

I think Damian could become an advisor for Tim. That would be kind of cute to see. They could also bond about being heirs of empires that they thought they would never actually inherit.

Dick could charm/be a court performer if he wanted to do that. Alfred would definitely get his hands on the kitchen staff to ensure Tim is properly being fed. Barbara would beef up Tim's security.

Cass would probably play pranks on Tim's "army" while Steph gathered blackmail on the planet's high society (and pull pranks on the ones that pissed her off).

I don't know enough about Helena Bertinelli, but maybe she would treat it as a fun vacation to intimidate rich people?

Duke might be interested in learning more about Tim's home world and what it's like to space travel. He would also be the one to accidentally set half the castle on fire.

I don't know if you'd like your AU to have all the Bats, but there's some stuff they could do.

[jenanigans1207]

Objectively, we know that Dean raised Sam because John was never around. But do you ever really stop to think about the details of that?

Dean changing diapers, reading Sam bedtime stories about love and happily-ever-afters that are so different from the life they lead. Dean checking under the bed for monsters because toddler Sam overheard John talking about some monster of the week. Dean helping Sam get dressed and then laughing when Sam insists on dressing himself in plaid and polka dots together.

Dean teaching Sam to ride a bike with and without training wheels, bandaging his knees when he falls and kissing his cuts all better. Dean teaching Sam to throw a punch for when the kids make fun of them for being the “new kids” again.

Dean teaching Sam to shave, to tie a tie, to drive. Teaching him to believe in himself and his own dreams, helping Sam with homework.

Dean enforcing bedtime, making midnight snacks, dealing with snotty tissues and a kid who won’t take medicine when he’s sick. Dean washing off sticky fingers during bath time and holding little Sammy’s hands when he’s first learning to take his first wobbly steps.

Dean singing a made up lullaby to Sam when he can’t sleep and carrying wet wipes around with him to clean up any messes Sam makes.

And then do you ever think about how he did all of it to try and give Sam a better life? Teaching him to tie a tie so he can take a girl to prom instead of using that skill to impersonate an FBI agent. Teaching him to read, helping him with his homework, encouraging him to go to college even though he knows it’ll break his heart and give him hell to pay once Sam leaves.

Like, objectively we know Dean loves Sam and raised him. But if I stop and think about every milestone, every skill Sam has, every belief he holds close and the fact that Dean was the one who shared all of that with him, who gave so much of himself to teach Sam everything he knows? I could just cry, it’s so tender.

(And then do you ever think that nobody (other than Bobby when he could) taught Dean all these things? That Dean had to figure most of this stuff out on his own? He had to try and fail, and then try and fail again, over and over until he got it right. And all he did was use that failure to try and prevent Sam from failing. Dean had to learn everything himself and then made damn sure that Sam never learned anything by himself, made sure he was there for every single thing Sam ever needed.)

[nightsteps]

What kind of father do you think Rafe would be, like, I need that in detail

so when they’re younger he’s significantly less involved. raspberry does most of the toddler stuff like potty training, ect. once their kids he starts doing more, like teaching them to ride their bikes and play football.

they’re those families that always look perfect, kind of like bree from desperate housewives. always dressed up, either for photos for rafes new construction project, dinner for their sons football game, or their daughters dance recital.

he’s more work focused then parent focused though, so if he needs to skip a football game to close a big deal he will. in his mind it’s worth it because the deal means more for his family in the long run.

he’s also one of those dads who thinks his kids can do no wrong, like he refuses to believe his kids are ever bad. if his kid failed a test, the teacher isn’t good at their job. if his kid got caught sneaking out, they just forgot to ask.

there’s no disrespect in his house, especially towards his wife. she does too much for people to disrespect her. he also doesn’t tolerate his kids fighting, which is hard since the girls bicker everyday.

he’s kinda like those 1950’s working husbands who want dinner on the table when they’re home, but with a little modern twist.

[sea-salted-wolverine]

Story time from fish camp: content warning for the god damn dog

So, yeah, fish camp, forget connecting with nature, nature's connecting with you at high-speed impact via fish gut. Yes, the damn dog deserves every ounce of derision, buckle up, here we go.

Let's preface this by saying the dog does not go to fish camp. He stays at home. We are all aware of this issue. No one was surprised by this chain of events. Well, maybe the dog was surprised because he has half brain cell bouncing around in his useless skull but no one else was surprised.

So Adak is a gorgeous dog. He is a specimen of his breed. He goes out in public on a leash and strangers walk up and ask about his stud. We are talking kennel club level specifications.

He is also the most cringe fail fucked up canine who ever lived. You see pugs that can't breathe because their faces are too squashed and their legs don't work but their supposed to look like that because some eugenicists thought it would be fun to pose new and exciting questions about ethics. Those fuckups are intentional.

Adak is a retriever. He was intended to be a duck dog. He is meant to sit quietly next to you while you shoot a duck and then go get it for you. That's the entire purpose of his breed. He came from a litter of pups that do this competitively, and his owner used to train dogs to elite levels of competition. He now no longer does this for reasons we will get into in a moment, but suffice to say this dog started with higher expectations. He's not a Labrador he's a Chesapeake, a breed known for their intelligence but somewhere along the line something went fucking wrong.

The dog cannot retrieve. He doesn't know how. Its not instinctual and he refuses to learn. We have tried. People can't teach him, dogs can't teach him. He won't fetch a stick, or a dog toy or a training bumper or anything else you throw for him.

The dog is gunshy. He panics at the sound of a shot. Sometimes he forgets he's gunshy and there's a solid thirty seconds between the shot and when he decides to lose his shit.

The dog cannot sit quietly. If he is not the center of attention he makes sounds I have not heard from any other organic creature. Is is a squeaky hinge, a far off engine, something stuck in the garbage disposal? No, it's the dog, steadily getting louder because no one has looked at him in the last 2 minutes.

So yeah, arguably the worst possible example of a retriever. He's pretty, he's friendly, he's a good dog and a wonderful pet, just never expect him to do anything useful. Currently his primary function is vacuuming up toddler meals from underneath a highchair so he's happy.

But there's another peculiarity about this damn dog.

He has an engine fetish. A fixation, an obsession, whatever you care to call it. This animal's one true goal in life is to meld his skull to an engine plate and crack off all of his teeth on a spinning flywheel. Yes, some of this is learned behavior because he knows that when an engine starts up his people are off to go do things, fun things, and if he makes himself annoying enough he'll get to go with us. But that only accounts for about a third of how fucking bonkers this dog gets around internal combustion.

Fire up a snowmachine? His head is between the skis and he's doing his best to get inside the cowling. He has chiped his teeth trying to chew on a moving dirt bike tire. He has been run over multiple times, by multiple different machines. There is nothing you can do to dissuade this dog from hauling ass after a four wheeler. His mania is limited to small engines because if he was this stupid around cars he would have been roadkill years ago.

He's been to vets, he's been to experts. He has a wonderful doggy life with plenty of stimulus and affection and exercise and socialization. There's just something wrong with him.

So this is the animal we brought to fish camp. He's having the time of his life because he's surrounded by strangers who would love to pet him and stinky fish smells. Our camp has plenty of people so someone always has his leash to walk him around and he doesn't need to stay in his kennel. There are lots of other families here and a good number of them have wheelers for hauling people and nets and fish up and down the beach, but as long as he has a firm hand on his collar he is at least smart enough not to chase strangers wheelers. He can behave. He just loses his damn mind when it's a machine he recognizes.

We have a four wheeler with us, Adak is insufferable and loudly announcing to the entire beach that he's being cruelly oppressed because he's not allowed to eat the engine, or make love to the engine, or have some long and tender yearning romance with the engine, I don't know what goes through that dogs head, all I know is that passersby are looking at me like I'm skining this animal alive because that's what it sounds like.

We also have a boat, a mid size inflatable with an outboard. Our group has six families and it does make sense to show up with everything but the kitchen sink. Harvest from the beach is perfectly fine but dipnetting from a boat is fun.

There is no way the dog is going on the boat. There are too many people, too many moving parts, some of those parts being live flailing fish, and the dog is not going on the boat. Everyone knows this, including the dog. Yes, he's got a thing about boats too.

So what happens is this.

I've got the dog leash. I've already been out on the boat and now I'm taking a break and getting a rest while someone else has a go. The four wheeler is at the head of the beach, after being used to launch the boat. I'm braced against the dog for when the wheeler starts up again and he inevitably lunges for it.

People are loading into the boat at the waterline. While the dog and I are up on the gravel of the beach, they are down in the indescribable glacial river mud, slick as soap and thick as cement.

My sister inlaw comes down the beach, phone for photo taking purposes in one hand, coffee cup in the other, toddler strapped to her chest. She hands me her coffee cup, to better situate her dozing baby.

I take a hand off the leash and accept the cup.

My beloved husband pull starts the engine.

On the boat.

In the water.

I am suddenly 15 feet further down the beach than I was, skidding through the mud, heels digging a trail behind me. It is worth mentioning at this point that I out weigh the dog by a slim margin of about 30lbs. I let go of the leash. I'm not going in that fucking river.

The dog is going in the river. At speed. He's gonna be the first dog to eat a running propeller. In a river.

(Some dogs are smart enough to be current savvy and not endanger themselves swimming in rough waters. Based on the information you know about this dog, what do you think the odds are that Adak is smart enough for that?)

Despite everything, this animal is a beloved family pet and we do not want to see him swept out to Hawaii or his face made into mincemeat. So now there are 2 adult men in chestwaders wrestling this suicidally stupid dog out of the water and away from the running engine. Oh wait, they were in the process of launching the boat into a stiff current. Now they have to pull the dog and the boat back up into the nightmarish morass of glacial mud, were I'm trying not to lose my boots in the calf deep mud so I can grab him again. Someone is shrieking to kill the engine, which is the most sensible course of action so off course no listens.

Thirty seconds ago my dad saw me telling Adak to stay out of the mud. He blinked and missed the initial drama so now he looks back down the beach to see me and my inlaws mudwrestling that same animal out of the water. He is a master of the "not my circus, not my monkeys" mentality, but he's thrilled to see the show. My sister inlaw came to take pictures and record the moment and she's doing just that, with glee and a sleeping baby.

I have the damn dog. I am back on solid footing. I am only mostly covered in mud. I have not dropped or spilled the coffee.

(Most amazing part of this story tbh,thrashed. The coffee never hit the ground, it was one of those nice insulated to-go cups but still)

The boat and it's fishermen are pulling away. I have given up on the leash and have the dog in an armbar around the belly with a fistful of scruff. He doesn't care. He wants so badly on that damn boat that he's fully committed his weight to his hind paws. If I let go of him right now he would biff it on the concrete pad of the boat launch before launching right back into the water. The four wheeler starts up. I do not outweigh the dog by alot but I now have lifted him bodily into the air with all feet off the ground while he squeals and thrashes.

The sound coming out of this animal is what I imagine a whale overdosing on cocaine would sound like. A weasel in a blender. A clowncar demolition derby. A millennia of tortured souls cursed to damnation possessing a kazoo played by a maniac elephant.

People are staring.

Theres a lot of profanity coming out of me. I feel it's pretty justified.

2 and a half minutes later, the boat is gone. The four wheeler is gone. Adak and his stupid doggy brain have calmed down and quit thrashing. He looks up at me with a completely empty skull and a the canine personification of 😄

I'm gonna skin him for mittens

[maykitz]

my sister dumping her pomeranian on me should be considered reckless endangerment because that joke animal tries to eat absolutely everything, stick his tongue in electric sockets, jump out of every window, in front of every car, bike, train etc and i'm not suitable to protect the life of an agile 4 pound suicidal toddler

[s-i-n-i-s-i-n]

Carmen Sandiego

Outfit Ranking Season 2!!!

Here is a link to part 1

We will not rank the outfits that were already ranked in Season 1 and that also appear in Season 2. We will just look at them again because why not? Lets get them out of the way.

Dive suit Rate: Awesome

Mumbai outfit Rate: Sexy

Jammies Rate: Comfy

Red Hoodie Rate: Cool

Red Coat Rate: Hot!

Now that we have seen the already seen awesomeness. Let's get into it.

Number 7: Hospital gown!

...does it count?

I mean, quite unfortunate to be in a hospital. But at least they let her keep her makeup? Cmmon! Those lips are way too red to not be make up. The nurses were like: She's frozen but that doesn't mean she can't be glamorous.

Number 6: Training outfit.

Always protect the face. She will break yours while looking awesome.

Did you notice that triangles are a common thing on her clothes? Should we make a conspiracy theory about it?

Number 5: Russian outfit

A spectre is haunting Europe — the spectre of communism the Red Ghost! привет Comrade Carmen!

She looks fashionably warm!

Number 4: Model dress.

She looks great. Boob window and all. The slit on the skirt. But even more that that: She can fight in heels.

And throw them too. I see she has a thing for throwing shoes.

She looks nice! But if you ask me I prefer the Auction dress from season 1.

Ok now. The three first places!!! But before that, you know it: Three honorable mentions!

Honorable mention #1

The cutest baby ever. My goodness!

She was the best toddler pick pocketer. Probably the only one.

Honorable mention #2

Fashion's latest scream! A very elegant coat made out of... the remains of a glider. Kudos to Carmen for making the best out of an awful situation.

To this day I hate Chief for this. Hate her deeply. Carmen might forgive her but I do not.

Honorable mention #3

Carmen's dream hats. They are imported. They are here because that hat is so iconic it made its way into the subconscious world.

Third Place: Safari outfit.

Oh my glob. Can she look cuter than this? I know it doesn't appreciate here but she is wearing a red belt. Can not be a Carmen outfit without red. Nice very nice outfit. She looks super cool.

And my goodness, those legs!

Second place: Dubai Dress.

This one was difficult for me. I almost gave it the first place, because she looks so damn elegant and sexy! She has a cape, A CAPE! She looks like a woman that anyone would obey at the snap of her fingers.

And a hairdo! And the earrings! Little splashes of red.

Stunning! simply stunning.

First Place: Moto GP

I am biased. I love motorcycles. And I love Carmen. And Carmen in a motorcycle? What else could I ask for?

I may be cheating here because I´m counting the bike as part of the outfit. She looks super hot on a Ducati, sue me.

Look at her going! Vrroooom!!!

So fast. So skilled. So sexy. AAAAaaaahhh! Look at the technique! The counterbalance! She might not now how to drive a car but she surely knows how to ride.

Rock and Ride!

I made so many gifs and I am not sorry. Brrrrhaaaababababammmm! Rrrrev it girl!

Akira style! So good so good. Hoo baby, that's hot!

I'm just curious about where in VILE island could have she learned how to ride a bike. I'm not complaining though.

That's it folks. See you at Season 3 outfit ranking!

[chrisevansonly]

Little Duck & Her Bicycle (Little Duck AU🐥💛)

Pairing: Dad! Chris Evans x Arlie Mae x Momma Evans

Summary: Nothing is sweeter than watching your husband teach his favourite girl in the world how to ride her new bicycle 

Warnings: non, very fluffy sweet dad chris :)

A/N: life is beating my butt real bad rn and I’m just trying to push through and distract myself with writing and being on here but that's life I guess

Word Count: 689

The look on Arlie’s face as the garage door opened to reveal a brand new toddler sized bicycle was one you’d take a mental snapshot to remember for the rest of your life. Her eyes lighting up as she squealed in excitement, running up to it and touching the streamers on the handles gently 

“My own bike Momma!!”

You chuckled 

“Your own bike my love, daddy got it just for you!”

“Thank you, daddy!”

Arlie turned and dove into Chris’s arms causing him to let out a soft laugh, holding her to his chest 

“You’re welcome princess, wanna try it out?”

“Yes pwease!!”

Before getting Arlie ready, Chris set up a comfy chair in the laneway for you to sit down in, your face flushed under his gaze as he sent you a wink 

“Get comfy mama, the show is about to begin”

Placing a kiss on your lips he walked back to where Arlie was waiting patiently 

“I’m ‘weady daddy!” 

“Alright duck, let’s get your helmet on!”

Chris reached over and took a small helmet in his hands, yellow and covered with yellow ducks, the happiness in her eyes showing him just how much she loved the helmet

“Wow! Look at the duckies!” 

“All the duckies for my little duck” 

Giggles filled the garage 

“That’s funny daddy!”

They got her helmet figured out, the straps adjusted until it sat perfectly on her head, Chris helping her get on and sit on the seat of her bike, her little body wobbling a bit as she put her hands on the handlebars

“Okay baby so, you’re going to put your feet on the pedals and push down, that will get the bike rolling, when you want to turn use those strong arms to tilt your handlebars”

Arlie nodded her tongue poking out of her mouth in concentration before she pushed down, willing the bike to move 

“I’m doing it!! Momma I’m doing it!!!”

You smiled at the thrill in her voice, pulling your phone out to film her slowly making her way out of the garage and onto the flat driveway 

“You are baby! Good job, keep going!”

Of course, the bike had training wheels on it so she wouldn’t fall, but the more she started to bike around, the stronger her confidence got, and you could tell by the smile on her face, Chris walking alongside of her just in case he’d need to grab her if something happened

“You’re doing so perfect, look at you go Arlie!” 

“I’m going so fast!!!” 

Chris looked at you when you laughed, his heart quickening at the pure joy on your face, Arlie stopping in front of you after biking around a couple more times

“You see me momma!”

“I did my love, you did so well!”

She smiled at your praise before letting out a sigh 

“I think I’m done daddy, too tired…”

Chris chuckled helping her off the bike, before pressing a kiss to her cheek, her helmet taken off seconds later 

“I am so proud of you baby, did so well on your bike!” 

She hummed leaning her head on his chest, it was enough to make anyone cry just at how sweet the two of them were together 

“Snack time yet Momma?”

You laughed standing up slowly, the growing baby bump starting to make things a lot harder, and you still had a ways to go

“I think it could be snack time duck, maybe even some ice cream for doing so well on your bike!” 

“Ice cweam?!”

You squished her little cheeks and pressed a kiss to her forehead

“All the ice cream my love” 

Chris wrapped his free arm around your shoulders as the three of you walked into the house, Arlie’s chants for ice cream soon floating through the kitchen, every day you were reminded just how thankful you were to have this little family of yours, it didn’t matter if you were having a lazy Sunday, baking cookies, or watching Chris teach Arlie how to ride a bike. This was your own slice of heaven, and you hoped it wouldn’t go anywhere, anytime soon.

[aeligsido]

[WM] Prompt 2 — Thriller.

Rating: T.

TW: stalking, implied kidnapping.

Characters: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Regulus Black; guest appearance of Alice Longbottom, Minerva McGonagall.

Additional Tags: spy au, Sirius is a spy, Remus works at HQ, married relationship, Regulus is a kid and they have adopted him.

Summary: The situation escalates quickly.

Words count: 839.

A/N: The ideas for this au are rotating in my head, but until now it was mostly vibes lmao. Good on this prompt for making me write a bit about it finally! Hope you like it ❤️

@wolfstarmicrofic

—

Sirius hears the dogs first. Padfoot always barks loudly when they come back to the flat — an adorable habit if Sirius has anything to say about it. Then it’s the gentle tap-tap-tap of small feet hitting the floor, and Regulus bursts into the kitchen with a wide smile.

“Aunt Dorcas gave me a new book!”

“She lets you borrow it,” Remus corrects him, appearing right after their son.

Usually, he would glance over at Sirius and they would exchange a commiserating and fond look; this time, Remus keeps his gaze on Regulus, brows furrowed in a worry he doesn’t verbalize but Sirius knows to recognize.

As they move through their routine, handing over tea and milk and snacks, Remus finally mouths him later.

-

It’s only after they’ve put Regulus to bed and they’re in the middle of washing-up that Remus finally talks.

“When I was driving back after picking up Reggie, there was… well, it’s probably nothing but—”

“It’s not nothing if you worry about it,” points Sirius, handing him a cup to dry.

Remus sighs. “I guess. It’s just, there was this bike, and it overtook us on the road, yeah? It’s pretty normal and nothing to be worried about, but then the passenger turned around and looked straight at me, and I don’t know, I just…”

“Don’t have a good feeling about it?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius lets it sink in. It could be anything, of course, from a too curious person to someone admiring Padfoot who always likes to sit at the front; but considering their jobs, they’ve learned long ago not to take things simply.

“Do you want to tell Minnie?” he finally asks, and Remus sighs once more.

“I don't know. It could be nothing.” He wants it to be nothing, he doesn’t say, but Sirius doesn’t need him to. “Let’s wait a bit? I don’t want to raise the alarm for nothing.”

“Alright.” Sirius dries his hands and kisses Remus’ cheek. “I’m here if you need me.” Then he grins, and adds, “I don’t have another mission for two weeks, after all.”

It gets an amused smile out of his husband, at last. “Colour me surprised.”

-

(They met almost ten years ago, when they both started training at the MI6. They went into different branches, but their friendship remained, and then some more.)

-

Two days later, Sirius decides to pack up the dogs to go visit the office and, maybe, terrorize new recruits with Alice. She has been benched after her last mission, the whole thing a bust and leaving her identity possibly compromised. It’s an annoyance and a half, even more so for Remus and Lily who are left dealing with the possible security leak. McGonagall is too busy dealing with paperworks and overseeing everything to take care of it, and Moody being Moody isn’t useful on that front.

And, well. Both Lily and Remus are formed to take over those particular duties, after all.

Alice uses him as a prop for training up until lunch, where she skillfully avoids her mother-in-law to sit by Lily. As he passes by, he hears them gushing about their toddlers and new gadgets in the same breath, and he can’t stop a snort. Terrifying women, indeed.

Remus is still in his office; he raises his head and smiles at him when he enters.

“Is that food in your hands?”

“You know it!”

Halfway through their meal, Remus notices an urgent mail on his phone; when he opens it, he freezes, and Sirius suddenly knows things are about to get worse.

-

They bring the matter to McGonagall. It’s a simple picture, of Remus walking Padfoot and Moony, but it’s fucking worrying; even more so considering Regulus is on the picture, too.

They up the security; Fabian is assigned to shadow them for the time being; they cite family problems to get their son out of school for now. (They have to hope it's enough.)

-

Three days later, Sirius is doing laundry when Regulus’ school calls him.

“We got someone calling to ask about your son,” says the secretary after the usual greetings. “We didn’t give any information, of course, but I wanted to warn you.”

Sirius’ heart beats a little too fast.

“Did you get a name?”

There’s a shuffle on the other side. “Yes; a woman, Bellatrix?”

Sirius’ breath catches, and he swears a storm as sound as the call is over.

-

(Four years ago, Walburga and Orion Black died, leaving their estranged son a baby brother he didn’t even know existed.

Still, he refused to let the three years old go to his bigoted-probably-terrorist cousin.)

-

“The mission won’t be long, just a few hours at most.” McGonagall promises, and Remus confirms it.

Sirius is not comfortable leaving the city, even for such a short time, but it could give them important data on the Death Eaters, and he can’t be picky when national security is involved.

He leaves at dawn.

-

When Sirius comes back right after lunch time, it’s to the news that Remus has disappeared.

[starlahuskyz]

Chances - Chapter 16

Summary: The boys take Jordan to have some fun at a certain bridge and she learns what kind of "fun" the boys like to have. Then Marko takes her home and they share a moment.

Happy Valentines days guys :D

Chapter 15 <<< >>> Chapter 17

TW// None I think???

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

Jordan knew that she probably should’ve trusted her gut and not followed through with whatever the boys had planned for her. But at the same time she also didn’t want to be a killjoy, so next thing she knew she was at a bridge with train tracks with a seemingly endless ravine beneath it. Jordan took a look down and looked to Marko for assistance.

“So…what are we doing here?” Marko walks over slinging his arm over her shoulder with an evil smirk on his face. “It should be pretty obvious what we’re up to.” They both looked at David who walked up to them.

“Marko, why don’t you show her what’s going on.” He took over Marko’s position and he walked towards a gap in the bridge, he looked up at Jordan and gave a little wave. “Goodnight Jordan…”

Before she could say anything, Marko jumped into the gap and out of sight. “Marko! Is this some kind of suicide pact?!” David held her back from trying anything, he just smiled and then looked at Paul who was getting ready to do the same. “Bottoms up!”. Paul jumped into the gap as well, not too long after Dwayne came over and shot finger guns at her and jumped down. Leaving just David and Jordan, David finally let go of Jordan and said “Come with us, Jordan.” He followed along with everyone else and jumped, Jordan finally made her way over to the gap only to see that everyone was okay. They were hanging onto the railing beneath the bridge and while she watched in horror they all egged her on to join them. She hesitated, looking from where her bike was parked and back to the boys. She finally made a decision to join them, by carefully lowering herself down and latching onto the railing, she was now just like them. 

“Ain’t this fun Jordan?” Marko asked her while she tried keeping her gaze on him and not at the endless abyss beneath them. “If this is what you guys consider fun, then you’re all out of your mind!” All the boys just laughed at her remark. And as Jordan started getting a little more comfortable, she heard the distant sound of a train horn in the distance. Jordan looked up and could feel the small vibrations on the railing.

“Is that a train coming our way?” She looked at the boys.

“HELL YEAH IT IS!” Paul starts headbanging as if he's excited at the notion.

“ARE YOU CRAZY, THE HELL DO WE DO NOW?” Jordan’s stress only grew as the vibrations were getting more violent as the seconds ticked by. The train horn cried out again and it was even louder now that it was closer. 

“YOU BETTER HOLD ON!” David yelled out to her.

Train finally starts crossing the bridge and it shakes the structure causing Jordan’s grip to tighten as much as it could. The boys could be less than bothered by what was happening, they all just laughed and screamed like toddlers while the train continued to shake them like a baby with a rattle. After Jordan thinks it couldn’t get any worse, Paul then lets go of the rail while air guitaring his way down. At this point she was at a loss for words, she just hung there mouth agape at the fact she might’ve watched Paul fall to his demise. Dwayne followed after, screaming his way down.

“YOU’RE ONE OF US NOW, LET”S GO!” David yelled at Jordan who only looked at him like he was crazy.

“AND THEN WHAT?” Jordan was struggling to keep her hands planted on the rail.

Without another word, David dropped from his spot leaving only Marko and Jordan in their spots. The train had finished passing by this point, so the shaking had stopped now. Marko came down from his adrenaline rush and looked at Jordan who was still shook from what just happened. He tried to egg her on. “Don’t be scared Jordan, you can fly remember?” Jordan looked at him “Not this vampire…I never figured out how to do that.” Surprised by that answer, Marko thought for a minute and then said “You can trust me Jordan.”

“What do you mean?” Jordan looked at him before he finally let go. “MARKO! WHAT DID YOU MEAN?” And with that, she was left alone under the bridge. Despite her vampiric strength, her nerves were getting the best of her and now she was on the brink of letting go. Without much of a choice, she closed her eyes and let go, leaving her falling through an endless abyss of fog and into god knows what. She knew they were high up, but they must’ve been up higher than she thought. She just kept falling further and further, that is until she finally stopped. Feeling the sensation she had been caught, she opened her eyes and saw who her savior was…Marko. He smirked his evil smile and said "See? You can trust me."

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

After the whole event they returned to the cave, Marko and Jordan sat on an old sofa while watching the others do their own thing. Jordan was definitely less than thrilled by what happened, but at the same time she weirdly liked the adrenaline rush that came with it. Paul came over to sit with them and he passed Marko a joint.

“You gotta admit, Jordan, that was fun! We should do more stuff like that again.” He laid himself on the couch not caring about how he was invading Marko and Jordan’s space. Jordan flicked his forehead and responded “Oh yeah…glad YOU had a great time.” Marko finished taking a drag and just pulled her closer to him “But I caught ya, that’s all that matters right babe?”

“I’d rather be able to do it myself, but I guess so.” She ran a hand through his curls and he let out a hearty purr. Paul snagged the doobie away from Marko and took another drag.

“Girl we need to give you flying lessons, a vampire not being able to fly is like a….” Paul couldn’t think of a metaphor until Jordan finished it for him.

“A bird without wings?” She questions and he snaps his fingers smiling. 

“That…man Marko, your girl is so smart.” His words start slurring and Jordan only rolls her eyes at his display.

“Hey, does anyone know what time it is?” Jordan shouted across the cave.

“I would say an hour till sunrise.” Dwayne said from across the room while reading his book.

“Then I think I should get going.” Jordan made a move to get up, but the terror twins kept her in place. “Do you guys mind?” 

“Yes, I actually do. Just stay here, don’t worry about heading home so soon.” Marko kept his arms around Jordan and she just succumbed to his love. Paul just kept his head on her lap but she shooed him away.

“Geez let me just have one thing tonight please. I just wanna go home, we can have a sleepover eventually. Just not tonight.” With a groan from Marko he finally released her, letting her make her way out. She stood up and was ready to make her way out, until she stopped and thought about something. She turned around to face Marko, and asked him a question “Hey Marko, I know this is stupid but…can you come with me. I don’t wanna go home alone tonight.”

All the other boys in the cave perked up at her question while Marko just looked surprised at her request. No one said a word for a good while and Jordan looked around, sighed and said “I hope you guys didn’t take that as a I’m gonna ride him into the sunset way. I meant that I felt unsafe going home alone. Dirty son of a bitches.” Marko stood up and began guiding her towards the exit.

“I knew what you meant, don’t sweat it.” As they both left, they heard the cheers of Paul in the cave.

“GET IT MARKO!”

---------

They both eventually made it back to Jordan’s house with no difficulties, the house lights were all off and not a noise came from inside. Jordan hopped off her bike, while Marko watched her from his own. He was happy she trusted him, but he was also curious as to why she felt unsafe going home alone. He was almost…angry. He wanted to know why she felt this way or who made her feel this way. He removed the thoughts from his head when Jordan approached him. 

“Well, thanks for coming with me. Hope it wasn’t a problem for you.”

“Not at all, I just want to know something. How come you feel unsafe? You’re a vampire, anybody who tries to hurt you would get folded by you.” He leaned against the handlebars of his bike. 

“Oh um, it’s not really that easy to explain but…Do you ever feel like you’re being watched?” She nervously rubbed the back of her neck. Marko just looked confused.

“Not really, no. Is this a common thing?”

“It’s been happening a lot since last year. Not all the time, but a lot more often than I’m comfortable with.” Marko tilted his head in confusion.

“Do you have any reason why this is happening?” He got off his bike to confront her properly.

“I don’t know, I think it’s just my guilt that’s all-” She stiffed up realizing she said too much.

“Guilt?” He said it like it was a foreign word.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m just paranoid that’s all.” She tried to cover up what she said but she knew that Marko wasn’t dropping this subject.

“I think it’s time you tell me, cuz if you’re feeling this way maybe we should talk it through.” He placed his hands on her hips holding her close “I hate seeing you like this.”

She relaxed while in his hold, and said “It’s about my ex, he’s not around anymore but I still feel his presence sometimes. I think it’s the guilt of everything that happened between us catching up to me.” Marko only huffed in response, “So that’s what this is about…” he thought. “Well whatever happened between you two, doesn’t matter to me. He messed up his chance with you while he had it, don’t feel too bad about it.” 

“Easy for you to say, you don’t know what I’ve been through.” She wrapped her own arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. Marko was never good at being the most emotional type, he wasn’t quite sure how to help her with something like this. His only thought was to find this ex and beat the bricks out of him, however that was not on the table right now. So he figured just being there for Jordan was enough for now. Jordan pulled away from him slightly to look at the slowly brightening sky above them. As the sky got brighter, she could better see his features, his perfectly sculpted face, those doe eyes, and his golden curls. Despite his very mischievous and vampiric nature, she found a sense of safety with him. She loved him, and she loved him so much she jumped off a bridge for him. She didn’t even realize she was staring into his eyes very intensely until without warning, Marko leaned forward and gave her a gentle kiss on her lips. She was flustered, and Marko just simply pulled away and walked to his bike, hopping on it and revving its engine. He smirked at her and said, “Goodnight Jordan, love you.” With a small wave, he was off back to the cave. As he disappeared down the trail, she could only look on and silently say “Love you too…”

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