#tailgates bar

[skin-quilt]

TAILGATES IN MINNEAPOLIS

[lovinglonerhybrid]

It’s game night at swerves and there’s a bunch of games to play! Brainstorm and Chromedome are playing darts with a picture of prowl. Rewind,tailgate,and, swerve are playing Mario kart. Ratchet,thunderclash,megatron,drift,and Rodimus are playing cards against cybertron. Blaster has just-dance set up. Cyclonus and whirl are playing air hockey. Ultra Magnus is running a game of DnD with skids,nautica,ten,and velocity. Rungs doing mad libs with ravage and nightbeat. Every one lives nobody dies and the lost light crew is one big happy family for the rest of time!

[zanderism]

bradley, wv

[trivialbob]

The main reason for our Wisconsin camping trip this past weekend was to see our friend and former Tumblr Jessica, her husband, and their new bar. 

But we had one other destination in mind.

Sheila and I like dive bars. We’d heard of a blue ribbon, class A, #1, Gold Medal dive bar in northern Wisconsin, not far from the shores of Lake Superior, that is a must-see. 

We drove an hour and a half north from Birchwood to the tiny town of Moquah. Along the way we passed countless rural roadside bars (RRB). We stopped at one for a bloody and chaser. My nice smile earned me a Spotted Cow instead of a Busch Lite for that five ounce beer that makes a bloody 48% happier.

At times I wonder if these small towns, where the bar to resident ratio is high, do they close some bars just so those employees have a chance to visit the rest of the bars in town? 

Anyway...

I present - The Plywood Palace.

We arrived at 12:10 PM. The door, held shut with a small Master padlock that wouldn't survive five seconds in Minneapolis or Chicago, should have been propped open at that point, but the owner was late. 

It’s not likely he reads Yelp or cares what it is, so no one wasted time bitching. We were far from 5G service anyway. 4G too. Even flip phones would not help so you’d better have a quarter for a pay phone if you want to call corporate and complain.

Several trucks and side-by-side ATVs were already there next to my truck. I bet there wasn’t a Prius within 100 miles of this place. Telslas likely are prohibited by local township rules.

We were all happy campers, waiting in that parking area. Everyone had a cooler. Some shared beer. We shared beef sticks from a meat shop we stopped at on the way there. One woman had bowls of dip and some chips. It was a block party in the sticks, next to a shack.

About an hour later the owner showed up. A man of few words, he mostly grunted “three bucks” or “six bucks,” depending on how many cans of Busch Lite a bar patron ordered. The money went into a mechanical cash register. Hey! You hippie over there, asking about Apple Pay, GTFO of here. Ka-ching.

We’d been advised to order canned beverages. There’s no running water at the Plywood Palace. Everyone followed that advice. No one dared order a bloody or an Old Fashioned. Or anything requiring ice. Or even a glass of water.

Sheila and I loved talking with everybody, hoisting Busch Lights to our parched lips as sunlight streamed through holes in the roof and walls before finally striking on the concrete and dirt floor.

Bras and signed dollar bills decorate what could be known to some as a ceiling.

The “ladies” room is a two-stall. Word has it that the women prefer one side over the other. You may see why. 

Sheila had a large package of baby wipes, because she plans ahead. Others were elated when she announced that anyone could help themselves to those clean, moist sheets.

Left stall:

Right stall:

This is the men’s room. It accommodates acres of full bladders. I found the little flowers to be a thoughtful touch.

Pollsters likely spend little time here.

Near the end of our visit I scrawled Sheila’s and my names on the wall with a Sharpie. I tried to buy a beer for the people who’d gladly opened their coolers to us before the bar opened, but they would have nothing of it. Friends share beer with friends, and we were all friends.

[jaughce]

i think some dorm assignments can be easy when it comes to major characters like optimus, megatron, starscream, etc. but i loooove getting creative with it.

I think a lot of the medics would be in octavinelle because of the benevolence part of it, but also from the social service part of it. Yeah medicine and serving are way different but its them dealing with people. Pomefiore would be a close second but i think it’s just fun to have all the medics hanging out in the lounge.

(almost forgot but the characters i assigned octa are tailgate, rung, velocity, first aid, and swerve)

[cantoufc]

Lemon Pepper Wings Recipe These quick and easy lemon pepper chicken wings are sure to become a favorite for tailgating or watching the game. 6 pearl onions, 2 tablespoons lemon pepper seasoning, 1/4 cup unsalted butter melted, 16 chicken wings, 2 cups peanut oil or as needed

[revelboo]

HELPPPPPPP SWEERVE INTERRUPTING SUPER SECRET SPACE SEX ED(tm) WITH THE LOST LIGHT HUMANS AND GETTING HIT WITH THIS;

THE SECOND HE WALKS IN TO "GET SOMETHING" ND HTEN OVERTHINKING IT. I LOVE HIMGHDSJKGMDS THIS SHIT RULES, i needed that laugh real bad today, thank you ghjdskmgds-- hope your holidays goin' well!!

Swerve just dying a bit inside when they all fall silent and just stare. 🔞 🌶️

MTMTE-Gossip

• “How is this not driving you crazy?” Swerve demands, pointing at the closed door of his bar that the humans are holed up in. Because it’s become a regular thing where they demand to meet to talk. And they’re not budging on their no Cybertronians rule despite Tailgate throwing a tantrum about it. Repeatedly. Loves and trusts you, but he’s also sure you’re talking about him and he can’t stand not knowing.

• “They’re just talking about their experiences,” Drift says, leaning his head back against the wall. Understanding Swerve’s anxiety, because even knowing the humans need this time, they’re all out here waiting. “They’ve been through a lot and need to work through it.”

• “Think they’re comparing spikes? Cause I’m winning if they are.” Stretching his arms over his head as Megatron curls a lip and Ultra Magnus just frown, Whirl laughs. “I mean look at this body,” he adds, gesturing with a claw.

• “They wouldn’t do that,” Tailgate protests, servos fidgeting. “They’re homesick and reminiscing.” And Brainstorm clears his vents from where he’s leaning against the closed door and Tailgate notices the weird little device in his hands. ‘Yeah, they’re absolutely talking about how we are in the berth.’

• “He tries and he definitely gets an A for effort,” you say, shrugging helplessly. “But Cyclonus has that glossa.” Hear a couple of the others laugh, up until you spread your hands apart to measure for them and then eyes widen. “Tailgate’s sweet and he’ll get you there eventually, but Cyclonus knows what he’s doing.” And you lean your chin on an elbow, brows raised in challenge. Waiting for anyone to try and one up you with their mech. ‘Rewind records during,’ someone says. ‘Riptide has two,’ his human mumbles, face reddening and you all turn to stare. Two? And their newest just hides their face in their hands. ‘Two spikes.’

[tom-foolery-incorporated]

Dude after the free use human fic, after human was finally out of the hole is she going to get asked by the bots if that can do it again instead of y'know being stuck in the wall, because I can imagine the bots won't stop thinking about it

......

>:333

Rehehehehehehe

Various Lost Light crew members x reader, gender neutral AFAB reader, racially ambiguous, free use, very mild dubious consent if you squint

I bet Swerve begs the human to have a free use night at his bar. Like buy two drinks get to use the human. You know Ultra Magnus had to help set up in order to make sure everything was in line and in order. Buy two drinks then get a ticket with your number for the human to service you. Then it just breaks down into a huge robot gangbang in the middle of the bar.

You know Rodimus is coming to the human like twice a day absolutely pussy whipped and begging to be inside his favorite human again.

Megatron finally getting a turn and making it so the human can’t walk for a whole week. Just blissed out smiling with a lake of transfluid under them as their abused hole just gapes. He’s very attentive with aftercare but he’s also worried he might have broken them.

Ratchet took them in under the guise of their own medical well being but bro doesn’t know jack about organics and just wanted an excuse to have them to himself. Drift jacking off Ratchet using the human like a spike sleeve.

You know Tailgate is humping them like a rabbit every chance he gets and Cyclonus is watching the whole thing with his spike in his servo.

Rewind and Chromedome taking the human out on a romantic excursion so they’re all buttered up when they share them. Soft lighting and music while they take turns using the human’s holes. I feel like they’d run a train on their special little human.

Nautica would probably be int having the human ride her then tease them when they get tired. “Nuhuh! I saw what kind of stamina you have,” she’d say while giving a sharp thrust. “I know you can do better than that.” Then she’s punishing the little human when they cum before her. She’s fingering them and using them like a toy. The human comes out of her habsuite covered in purple lipstick marks and smiling like a dope.

Whirl would scoop the human up and stash them away in his habsuite all for himself. He just wants the soft mushy sex where his human is stroking his face and peppering kisses all along his body until he can fuck their face with his spike. He’d definitely tease at breaking them and turning them into nothing but a hole for everyone to use but he knows how fragile humans are and to be more gentle.

Brainstorm is running all sorts of experiments trying to see which toys his human has the best reaction to, how hard they can cum, how many orgasms until they pass out. It’s all for research purposes he tells himself while watching Perceptor fuck you stupid while jacking himself off.

[lovinglonerhybrid]

It’s Valentine’s day! And swerve has decorated the bar like an elementary school party. Little paper hearts hang above the bar and a snack table is set up for everyone to enjoy. Drinks are half off for couples and the bar is packed. Ratchet and drift are hanging out by the snack table with Rodimus. Minimus ambus and megatron are writing sappy love poems for each other. Whirl Cyclonus and tailgate are chatting with swerve at the bar. Brainstorm is snuggling with percepter in a booth towards the back. Ravage is playing poker at the single bots table with trailcutter and nightbeat. Rewind set up a projector and is playing tangled. Chromedome is getting them snacks to share. Ten is handing out handmade valentines to everyone.

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

road trip with the 141??

they all take turns driving. it's a long haul, almost two days worth of sitting in the car. lucky the group has little trips planned (things they each think you'll enjoy) on the way to the real destination.

price takes the first shift. they all insist on letting you have the passenger seat, even if simon is squished in the back middle. john lets you pick the music, rests his hand on your thigh, drawing pictures with his thumb on the inside. he asks you to amble on about whatever and interjects with questions or comment when he's intrigued. john is a good driver, even when he's not fully paying attention to the road. he doesn't rage externally when he's cut off or when someone starts to tailgate him (he's memorizing their plate to have someone steal their identity later), just listens to your pretty voice ask him about future plans. he holds you hand when you all stop at a botanical garden around lunch. raises an eyebrow to soap when you pull him around to show him another flower, conveying that johnny was wrong and you do like this kind of thing. kisses your forehead when he moves to the backseat.

johnny takes up the next shift. he yaps and changes the radio station every five minutes. makes simon (who gaz is napping on) mad every time he misses a turn. johnny moves his hand scandalously low on your thigh every time he thinks you won't notice before you move it back to the wheel. asks you to change the air conditionings temperature every time he gets slightly uncomfortable. he grins when you feed him bits of his granola bar. overall, johnny is not an awesome driver and doesn't really pay attention to the road, so it's not a big surprise when he's kicked out of the big seat. johnny's delighted with how you like the waterfall trail he suggested. the group gets loads of pictures that will eventually get compiled into a photo album.

gaz climbs in the driver's seat and places a little kiss on your cheek. he's the forever gentleman and a little overindulgent. he lets you put your feet on the dash and would let you paint your nails if you had any polish, even if he hates the smell. kyle enjoys idle conversation with his darling, about that random bird or why would someone paint their barn that ugly orange? he strokes your thigh with his hand or holds your hand on the gearshift. that evening when you all go for dinner, he diverts for a quick trip to the local art show and farmers market. kyle follows you around for the evening like a lost puppy, offering to buy anything that catches your interest and carrying your bag. pleased when you buy a postcard of your favorite piece from the evening, just wants to take his doll out and let them have a good time.

simon offers to drive the last hundred or so miles to the motel you all planned to stay in for the night. he opens your door and kisses your fingertips before putting the vehicle in reverse. the other three are asleep by the time you pull back out, but you and him enjoy the time looking at the stars. simon tells you all the constellations he knows, and tries to help map them best he can while driving. simon's a horrible driver, but the road is pretty empty by the time he gets on. spontaneously, he pulls to the side of the road where there's a wide open field. grabs your hand and locks the boys in. simon takes you in the field and wraps his arms around you. you both sway in the moonlight, humming along to some long forgotten tune. he mumbles that he loves you and kisses your mouth softly. you two don't stay out there long because of the boys in the car and how late it is, but he still picks you a bouquet of flowers from the field.

the motel bed is small, but you all make yourselves fit. technically there's two, but no one is figuring out the logistics of that at this hour. soap has a hand in yours, gaz's leg is wrapped around your lower half, simon's heart beats steadily under your ear, and price has his front to your back. you all are tangled up together and couldn't be happier.

[justarandomweeb]

Otay, saw requests were open and just wanted to yeet a Drabble idea/scenario so basically my sleep riddled brain had a thought “which Yandere LL bafoon would absolutely totally not misuse their knowledge of a Y/N who has tics with echolalia”

Context: I had a recent tic where I heard someone say “I love you” and I just started ticking “luv ya” for a minute. So imagine Rodimus “accidentally” setting off a tic like that. Or Rung realizing that tics get violent when stressed so he ever so kindly offer to be a grounding presence (basically a living weighted blanket) for when tics get bad to prevent the dear sweet liaison from getting hurt. Totally not because he wants to hold them noooo

Sorry if this makes zero sense I’m about to hit the hay like a sack of bricks.

(A/N) I didn't wanna offend anyone with tics since I don't know much about tics but, I definitely understand the struggles of having vocal stims and unconsciously saying words that that does not have aaaany correlation to the talk.

Oh its definitely Rodimus, he may laid back, and annoying but god you can't deny that he can be smart and sneaky and at times. Especially after the trigger, now that Tailgate has a taste, being the chatter bot he is talking about this encounter to Cyclonus and Whirl in the bar and now who in all ears? Swerve and if it hits Swerves radius, sooner or later every bot in the ship are trying to make you repeat those sweet sweet words of I Love You, treating you like a damn parrot.

Oh Rung, he's probably one of the bots you honestly say I love you without any embarrassment, he's such a nice bot that you don't feel any shame when you say those words compared to others. He has such a calming presence that those affectionate and warm feelings makes you feel happy that you'd even say I love you to him. But of course its definitely embarrassing to say I love you to anybody, especially your co-worker, maybe after the whole fiasco you can definitely tell him.

Ultra Magnus and Megatron is a 50/50, they got that imposing presence, but at least they won't make it into a big deal and make fun of you by cooing and asking you to say those words again. Right...?

Naudica, Skids, Tailgate, Rewind, Drift and Swerve, you can tell them I love you platonically, pfft I mean its not like they're into you so hard and delulu. Noooo its not like they have you saying I love you rent free in their processor, giggling like school girls in their rooms, no sirrrrrr.

[hellothereobiwankenobi]

yellow ribbon on the door | chapter two

⟢ summary: Tommy convinces Joel to cover for him, and complete the repairs at your flower shop.

⟢ pairing: joel miller x afab!reader (femme but not descriptive as to actual features)

⟢ tags: no outbreak au, flower shop au, idiots in love, small age gap, joel is 35 and reader is 29 about to be 30, reader is a war widow, operation desert storm mentioned, reader is a single mother to ellie, eventual smut, no beta reader we die like men

⟢ wc: 3.2K

⟢ authors notes: Well, let me start by saying thank you for everyone who read chapter one! And an extra thank you to everyone who left such kind comments. I am so appreciative to everyone who has interacted with this story so far.

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The following Monday morning, Joel carries tools back and forth from the garage into the bed of his work truck. He loves this part of his morning routine. It was still early enough that most of his neighbors were in their homes getting ready for work and late enough that all the school-aged children on his street had already been picked up by big yellow buses. It was quiet enough for Joel to get some peace, sip his coffee, organize his tools how he liked, and hear the morning birds sing overhead.

Joel had a busy day ahead of him. He needed to pick up the drywall order for tomorrow's job, place a new order for the correct sized plumbing hardware for a client's kitchen remodel (he knew he shouldn't have trusted Tommy with taking the measurements), and he hoped to stop by elderly Mrs. Williams' home to make sure the handrails he installed in her shower last week were to her liking. He also had an important meeting with a real estate development firm about framing the main entryway of a new apartment complex being built in the city. Landing this job could open more doors for his and Tommy’s business, and it offers a sizable payout.

He grabs his colt coffee mug from the edge of the tailgate before finishing it off. As Joel closes the tailgate, the cell phone clipped to his belt rings. He removes it from his belt and hits the green answer button without checking the caller ID "Miller Brothers Contracting."

"Joel, it's me." Tommy's voice comes through the speaker pressed to his ear "I screwed up, man."

What is it now? Joel thinks. This is far from the first time he has heard his younger brother speak those words over the phone. But this type of call usually comes in the middle of the night and is preceded by a robotic voice stating, "This is a collect call from the Travis County Jail—Central Booking. Do you accept the charges?"

There is no way Tommy has already gotten himself arrested. It's not even eight in the morning.

Joel prepares for the worst. "What now?" 

Tommy explains that he double-booked himself today. He promised to come by your store this morning, but after checking his schedule, he realized he couldn’t make it across town in time for his next client—not in Austin traffic, at least.

"I need you to go and help her out," Tommy adds desperately. "I'll owe you one."

"Already do," Joel reminds him. 

Maybe it was his fault. Joel always felt that, as the older brother, it was his responsibility to bail Tommy out of his messes. Joel couldn't count how many times during Tommy's high school years he had picked him up in the wee hours of the morning because he was too drunk to drive home and too afraid to call their parents. Or the time Tommy ran his mouth off to a couple of good ol' boys at a local dive bar, and Joel had to join in when the fists started flying. Or when Tommy threw a party while their parents were in Mexico visiting family, and one of his friends punched a hole right through the bathroom door because it "wouldn't open." Joel had spent the little money he had on the supplies needed for a patch job good enough that their father wouldn't notice.

"Joel, please. I'm beggin' here." Tommy pleads.

Joel drags his large hand down his face and sighs, "Fine."

"You're a lifesaver. I'll buy us a round tonight as thanks." Tommy rushes out the address of your shop, and the line goes dead as he quickly disconnects the call.

· · · ──────── ⋆˚ ✿ ❀ ✿ ˚⋆ ─────── · · ·

Joel sits in the driver's seat of his truck, eyes closed, both hands white-knuckling on the steering wheel, parked outside of your store: Iris-istible. Tommy hadn't mentioned you were a florist.

Joel takes a deep inhale and tries to give himself a quick pep talk. Just go in, tighten a bolt or two, and get out, he tells himself.

Joel gathers the strength to climb out of the cab and grab his navy blue toolbag from the truck bed. As he enters through the shop's front door, a small bell chimes and announces his presence. Three long, natural wood tables take up most of the floor space of the small storefront. The walls are exposed brick in alternating shades of deep burgundy and mahogany brown outlined in grey grout. Wooden shelves displaying premade arrangements, and various house plants in mismatched containers line the store's perimeter. A complex crystal chandelier hangs overhead, illuminating the cozy store front.

Joel looks to his left, and there you are, standing behind a waist-high butcher block counter stacked high with books on the language of flowers and beginner's guides to starting a garden. A goldenrod watering can and an old-fashioned register frame either side of the counter. 

Your back is turned toward the door while you fiddle with the soil of a potted orchid. You're wearing a pair of denim overalls over a short-sleeve white t-shirt. The straps of a sunshine yellow apron wrap over your shoulders and tie neatly in a bow around your waist at the center of your back. 

Your whole body whips around to face the entryway when you hear the bell's chime ringing out through the small shop. You are positively beaming, smiling ear-to-ear.

"Tommy, I thought you'd nev—" Your words die in your throat, and your smile melts away as you make eye contact with the older Miller brother.

"Sorry to disappoint," Joel grumbles, averting his eyes from you. There is an uncomfortable heat running up the back of his neck. Joel wouldn't describe himself as a proud man, but your ever-present fondness for his brother is on full display this morning, making him regret his decision to come.

You stand unblinking, still holding the potted orchid between your perfectly manicured fingers. French tips. Or at least that's what he thinks Sarah calls them.

"No," you come back to your senses and forcefully shake your head. A smile, while much smaller than the previous one, pulls back on your lips. "Not at all. Just surprised."

Joel could be just imagining it, but what looks like a rosy blush blossoms on the apples of your cheeks. From embarrassment or something else, he isn't sure.

Joel's feet remain planted just inside the entrance. He doesn't dare take another step into the store. Maybe it's not too late to leave.

"Let me show you where the walk-in is." You place the orchid on the counter and wipe away any remaining potting soil from your fingers onto your apron.

You step out from behind the counter and wave a hand for Joel to follow. You hold open the black, swinging door labeled "Employees Only" that leads to the store's backroom.

The back room was larger than Joel would have expected—maybe about half the size of the main storefront. Bags of potting soil and mulch are stacked against the wall next to a shelf of extra terracotta pots and crystal vases. A tall, light-colored workbench is pushed against the opposite wall. It is littered with discarded bruised petals and the clipped ends of flower stems.

On the back wall, there is a large silver door with a sizable latching handle. You place both hands on the handle and give it a couple of good tugs until it clicks open. You look over your shoulder with an embarrassed smile as you pull the door open. "Sorry, it sticks sometimes."

You and Joel finally step into the cooler. You had already turned off the A/C unit in anticipation of having it repaired. The walls are lined with floor-to-ceiling shelving, all filled with different varieties of flora. Some flowers Joel could recognize: roses, daisies, daffodils. But most of them he had never seen before. A few even looked like something you'd find while hiking on a tropical vacation.

His eyes moved from the myriad of colored foliage to the ceiling. At the center is a small, two-fan A/C unit. He's not tall enough to reach it by only standing. He sets down his bag on the floor, directly below the unit. "I'll need to graby a ladder."

"Mhm," you nod, "whatever you need. I'll leave it to the expert."

You both exit the walk-in and head back to the front of the store. You return to your original position behind the counter as Joel exits to retrieve what he needs from the truck. 

He re-enters the building carrying the six-foot ladder under his left arm. You're working on an arrangement of pink roses and yellow Asiatic lilies in a stubby vase. You place the flowers absentmindedly in the vase as you watch him walk by. Joel's biceps flex under the ladder's weight, causing them to pull the fabric of his short-sleeved, forest green cotton tee shirt taut around them.

You could always tell Joel was strong. He filled out his clothing in a way that only a man who'd worked physical labor his whole life could: broad shoulders, large biceps, and a strong chest kept hidden under a few layers of thin fabric.

Once Joel has disappeared into the back half of the shop, you let out a ragged breath and refocus on the bouquet in front of you.

You tried to keep busy with orders and reorganizing display shelves, but your mind kept wandering back to the man inside your walk-in cooler. Thankfully, a customer came in to distract you—a well-dressed, clean-shaven young man looking for a gift for his mother's birthday. 

"She loves tulips," he explained. You showed him the premade arrangements on the display tables, but they weren't what he was looking for. 

"Let me check the back and see what I can whip up." you give him a reassuring smile before disappearing behind the storage room door.

You're greeted by the sight of Joel standing halfway up the ladder. His hands are above his head, working on the A/C unit, causing the hem of his shirt to ride up and expose the smallest peak of his lower stomach. A trail of deep brown hair extends from below the waistband of his dark-wash denim jeans and travels up until it disappears under the soft fabric of his shirt. Your eyes begrudgingly tear themselves away from the exposed skin and move up his body. His stomach looks soft in comparison to the solid muscles of his chest and upper arms. Your eyes linger on the sharp angles of his jawline. Finally, your studying gaze reaches strong hands. His thick fingers delicately work over the intricate details of the unit.

He had so much control over the fine movements of his thick digits. He presses a petite silver knob between his thumb and index finger, giving it a gentle twist.

Your mind runs through the endless possibilities of what else he could squeeze between those two fingers.

The feeling of your weighted stare breaks Joel's concentration. He looks down to see you standing below him. He pulls his eyebrows together as you frantically try to collect yourself. You can't see it, but you are sure by the heat burning in your cheeks that your face is completely flushed.

"S-sorry," you manage to stammer out, "just need to grab something." You walk around him to the back of the cooler and grab a few different colors of tulips before rushing out.

· · · ──────── ⋆˚ ✿ ❀ ✿ ˚⋆ ─────── · · ·

The repair work took longer than Joel expected. One of the pipes responsible for circulating refrigerant into the condenser had corroded. He was able to complete a patch job, but the pipe would need to be entirely replaced for any long-term success. The twin fan blades whirl to life as Joel turns the A/C unit back on, giving his work a final once-over. He wants to ensure everything will hold up until he can get the part needed to finish the job.

When you re-enter the walk-in, Joel is collecting his tools back into his bag.

"How's it going in here?" you ask. You feel cool air brush across your bare forearms and look up at the ceiling unit. 

"You fixed it?" it comes out as a half statement, half question. The same beaming regard from earlier on your face, but it is intended for Joel this time.

Joel felt a mysterious craving deep within him finally being satisfied. He didn't know it previously, but he must have wanted that look, the one you save for his brother, to be meant for him. 

The warmth radiating from your smile was almost too intoxicating. Joel had to distract himself by closing the ladder, or he would have been completely engulfed by it.

"For now." Joel says, making a conscious effort to keep his eyes from returning to you, "I gotta order a part to fix it right."

Joel tucks the ladder under his arm again and moves to return it to the truck. You look down at his tool bag and reach for the handles with one hand. You can barely pick it up off the ground. It is much heavier than you expected. With a soft groan, you lift the bag and keep it secure in front of you with both hands.

Joel looks back at the sound and sees you struggling to hold the bag at waist level. "You ain't gotta—"

"But I want to." is all you say before overtaking him. You trek your way outside the shop with Joel close behind.

You set the tool bag on the curb next to Joel's truck, feeling accomplished about carrying it alone. Joel lifts the ladder over his head and slides it on the chrome rack suspended above the truck bed. He secures it in place with a couple of ratchet straps, then turns to grab the tool bag from the curb. 

With one easy motion, Joel lifts the bag up and over the tailgate, returning it to its original place.

"So, what do I owe you?" you ask with a gentle smile.

Joel looks at you and shakes his head. "Was just doin' a favor for Tommy."

"Come on, I have to pay you somehow." Your smile grows. "There is this really great coffee shop about a block from here. My treat."

Your intention genuinely was to thank him for his help this morning, but a selfish part of you was also trying to find a reason for him to stay just a little bit longer.

"I'll let Tommy know when the part comes in," Joel states flatly. He is already behind schedule. He needs to leave now to make his meeting with the real estate developers.

Joel gives you a nod goodbye before walking around the truck and climbing into the driver's seat. He pulls away from the curb and rejoins Austin city traffic, watching your little yellow apron become smaller and smaller in his rearview mirror.

· · · ──────── ⋆˚ ✿ ❀ ✿ ˚⋆ ─────── · · ·

Thankfully, the rest of Joel's jobs for the day go smoothly. He taps his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the melody playing from his Hank Williams cassette tape. Joel would be lying if he said the drive home from the city, back to the suburbs, wasn't his favorite part of the work day. He could reflect on his day, watch the sunset paint the central Texas horizon orange and pink, and he could listen to his "old man" music without Sarah making any comments at his expense.

He pulls into the small parking lot of The Whiskey Room, his and Tommy's usual watering hole. The drinks are cheap, the music is to his liking, and it is close enough to his house that he and Tommy can walk home after having one too many.

Joel spots Tommy's dark grey pickup, a weathered "OPERATION DESERT STORM COMBAT VETERAN" bumper sticker prominently displayed on the tailgate next to the driver's side taillight.

Tommy is saving a spot next to him at the bar. He puts out his cigarette as Joel pulls out the chair and takes a seat.

"Heard you landed that framin' job in those new apartments for us," Tommy says, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder and squeezing. "Ol' man still knows how to sweet talk a couple suits."

"Whiskey, neat. For my friend here." Tommy calls over to the bartender, "On me."

The bartender, a young woman in her mid-twenties, places a short glass containing two fingers of amber liquid on the bar top before Joel. Tommy gives her a wink as she walks away, flipping her long brown hair over one shoulder. 

Tommy finally removes his hand from his brother's shoulder and returns to his own drink.

"Your girlfriend's A/C needs a new coolant pipe." Joel grabs ahold of the whiskey glass and takes a sip.

"Nah, man." Tommy lets out a soft laugh before bringing his drink to his lips. "It ain't like that. She's just my ol' sergeant's wife."

It takes Joel a moment to put the pieces together. Tommy's old sergeant. The one from his time in Kuwait. The one who moved to Austin after the end of Operation Desert Storm with his wife. The one whose funeral Tommy attended eighteen months ago. 

Shit.

Joel stays silent as the overwhelming impact of his own stupidity washes over him. He can't think of a single thing to say.

Tommy rests his glass on the bar top "Wait, you really thought—"

Laughter erupts from Tommy, drawing the attention of those seated around them. Joel can feel the eyes of the bar's other patrons staring at his back. 

"I've just been helpin' her out since Sarge passed. She's goin' through a lot." Tommy is gripping the bar with one hand and places the other over his chest, trying to catch his breath.

"Pendejo."  Tommy takes his glass in his hand, grinning wide, and shakes his head in disbelief.

Joel's frigid embarrassment begins to grow into heated frustration. He downs his remaining whiskey in one gulp.

"She's always all over you. Gettin' you things, laughin' at your jokes," Joel snaps back at his brother.

"She's a sweet girl." Tommy nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders. "She's the kinda person that likes doin' nice things for other people. It's a mom thing, I reckon."

"Not to me." Joel retorts.

"You don't give her much of a reason to." Tommy takes another drink of his whiskey.

Joel thinks back on the handful of past exchanges the two of you have had. The first time he met you at the Super Bowl party, he spoke maybe two or three words to you. You spent most of the night sitting next to his brother on Joel's brown leather couch, listening captivatingly to Tommy explain the basics of American Football. At the family dinner, he was almost wholly silent towards you. Other than sneaking a few quick glances your way over the kitchen table every time you let an unapologetically sweet laugh escape your full lips. Even today, when you offered to buy him coffee to thank him for the work he had done at your store, he immediately shut you down.

"You really are one dumb bastard, you know that?" For the first time in a long time, Joel found himself agreeing with his younger brother.

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

⟢ authors notes: I promised idiots in love, and I gave you idiots in love. Pre/non-outbreak Joel is my absolute favorite things to write currently. He is just such a goober.

I'm pretty insecure about the quality of my writing. I'm powering it though. I used to write fanfiction nearly everyday in my younger years, but as time went on I lost my love for it. But reading the phenomenal works of the authors in this community has reignited my passion.

I'm on spring break this week, so I am trying to write as much as possible until classes start again next Monday. My writing process is a little messy. I write in nonsequential order. As a scenes pops into my head, I scribble it out into a Google Doc the piece them together like a big jigsaw puzzle.

[coco-loco-nut]

Miss Americana

Pairing: Lando Norris x American!Reader

Summary: Moments with Lando and his silly, American, girlfriend

TW: AMERICA! RAHH🦅

a/n: i wrote this super quick bc the ideas were bombarding me at work and it is not proofread. it’s also silly and stupid as an apology for my last oneshot which seemed to break y’all.

requests are open! masterlist part two

—————————————————

Lando didn’t mind you were American, in fact, that might be why he loved you. You poked fun at his britishness, even trying to copy his accent. It’s almost like a joke with you two.

“Baby, where are you?” Lando whines from his gaming chair, needing attention, having texted you a minute ago asking you for cuddles.

“I’m declaring my independence!” You yell back, your voice coming from outside. He pauses his game and trudges towards your voice. The two of you are spending time in your American residence, near Miami. He spots you near the pool, holding something out.

“Baby, what are you doing?” He spots your camera recording.

“Happy December 16th!” You grin, dropping a box of tea into the pool. Lando’s brows furrow, thinking back to the book he read about the Revolutionary War. Needing to have some sort of reference for your jokes, he bought a book with the basics to read on the flights to races.

“Oh… I get it. Babe, we aren’t even IN Boston,” Lando says after a minute, and after you start laughing, he does too. Lando quickly grabs your phone and pushes you in the water too.

“Rude,” you huff, grabbing the tea box and climbing out of the pool. If it weren’t for your grin, Lando would be running away. You grab your phone and Logan pops out from behind the bushes as Lando’s phone dings.

“Wait, I thought you were recording,” Lando says, his eyes narrowing at Logan.

“Nope,” you pop the p and walk inside, the video quickly going viral and spreading around the drivers group chats. Logan makes his quick escape, leaving Lando to wonder why he agreed to associate with Americans.

———

“GO GO GO GO! YES! TOUCHDOWN!” You yell, seemingly oblivious to the cold. Lando surprised you with a trip to your alma mater’s biggest football game of the season. He asked Logan for help with the surprise, but the Floridian didn’t mention, well, how much of a cult the school was.

“Logan said it was going to be cold, but not this cold,” Lando grumbles, taking a cute pic of you cheering.

“Babe, he has terrible taste in schools, why would you take his advice? Also, this is the northeast, it’s obviously going to be way colder than Austin will be next week,” You snort before joining in on a chant. Lando was only slightly regretting choosing seats right beside the student section, however, he could get behind the drinking. Especially tailgating. When you drug him out of his nice warm bed to hang outside the stadium at 9am with your old college friends, he was skeptical. All it took was one freshly grilled meal and a beer to turn that around. He is planning on creating an American tailgate for the race next week in Austin.

“American universities are... something else,” Lando smiles at you. Seeing as you are only one year removed from college, you had plans for the weekend.

“Just wait until we go to the bars later. Oh! And the frat party tomorrow, it’s family weekend and my cousin is getting us in,” you smile back at him. It was indeed a long, drunk, weekend, but Lando couldn’t help but admit that he would be more than happy to come back for more games throughout the year.

———

Austin was something else the next weekend. You and Logan were quick to jump on board with Lando’s idea for a tailgate, and you all gathered at the Airbnb that you rented the night before the race, right after qualifying. The team’s socials loved the idea as well as the Formula One social media team, so you paid for nothing as the drivers and friends gathered at the Airbnb for your and Logan’s tailgate. You made sure there were multiple coolers full of alcohol, soda, and water while Logan manned the grill. You wore a NFL football jersey while Logan repped a Miami Dolphins jersey.

“Why are those two arguing,” Max asks Lando, observing you and Logan fight about whose team is better.

“Either college football or pro football,”

“American football, mate,” George says, standing on the other side of Max.

“All I’m saying is that you have TERRIBLE taste in teams!” You huff in Logan’s direction. He rolls his eyes, turning his focus to the grill as you grab a beer. Lando, who is sporting your alma mater’s football jersey, walks over to the two of you.

“She’s not wrong, Logan,” Lando chuckles as the blonde boy throws his arms up in the air in frustration. Honestly, the only thing that can top the bickering between the both of you is when you pull out the jell-o shots and people start grabbing food.

Half an hour later, you turn on the projector to the screen, a Disney logo behind you. You take position in front of the screen, remote in hand as a microphone. The crowd turns their attention to you. Lando’s lips twitch up in amusement.

“I just got three things to say. God bless our troops. God bless America. AND GENTLEMEN. START YOUR ENGINES!” You yell as you hit play on the remote.

“Okay, focus. Speed. I. Am. Speed.” The voice says over the screen. You and Logan decided to culture everyone, making the end of the tailgate partly a movie night. Eventually, everyone finds a seat in the lawn chairs scattered in front of the screen. Lando grabs your hand and kisses the back of it when you sit down.

“I love you, y/n,” he smiles softly as he nurses his beer.

“Love you more, Lan, but not as much as America,” you chuckle, teasing him. He playfully rolls his eyes, knowing you are jesting.

“Are you always so… American?” Daniel laughs as he sits in the open chair beside you.

“Shut up before she drunkenly sings the national anthem,” Lando hisses, cringing at the time he mistakenly took you to a karaoke pub in London on July 4th. Honestly, he should’ve known better.

“I hate you all,”

[froggibus]

Roadtrip - Overwatch Boys

Includes: Cassidy, Genji, Hanzo, Baptiste, Lucio & Mauga

Genre: fluff, some crack lol

Summary: take a summer roadtrip with your favorite OW man

CW: irresponsible/reckless driving, cops (Cassidy's), drinking (not while driving I promise), Genji slander, camping, very fun summer vibes w this one

This is part of my Summer Suntacular event, come check it out!

Cassidy:

definitely takes you through the midwest somewhere

insists on driving the whole way but its ok cause he has an insane sense of direction

like knows every road and shortcut like the back of his hand

tries to pretend like he doesn’t like your music but ends up singing along

loves stopping in old local diners

at least once the owner of a bar recognizes him and reminds him that he’s banned for life

and somehow he ends up talking the owner into letting you guys stay??

only drinks black coffee and pretends like he enjoys it

you forced him to try an overly sweet 6$ coffee one time and now he insists on stopping for one in every town

pretends to obey traffic laws but speeds whenever you’re on a backroad

a cop tries to pull him over and suddenly he turns into Max Verstappen and is offroading through a random field to lose them

“what the fuck is happening”

“I’m winnin’.”

you guys get takeout and eat it on the tailgate of his truck

stops at any bar that advertises live music 

will sing all the words all dorky to you and try to get you to dance with him

wants to stay on the road with you forever

Genji:

do not let this man drive he can’t drive for shit

wants to go somewhere neither of you have been before, but doesn’t really have a solid plan

matcha lattes at EVERY stop

you camp rather than stay in a hotel cause he never got to as a kid

like he’s never even tried a s’more or had a campfire before

chooses the most beautiful campsites ever with pretty beaches

neither of you can figure out how to set up the tent so you end up piling the blankets and pillows in your car and sleeping in the trunk

it’s surprisingly cozy though

also he totally winds up cuddling you for warmth

takes SO MANY pictures 

insists on using a paper map because he wants a more “authentic” feel 

results in you guys getting lost in the woods at least once

picks up handcrafted flavoured marshmallows at literally every gas station you stop at so he can make different kinds of s'mores

some of the flavours get wild too—like maple bacon or banana split

weirdly good at roadtrip games

brings his Switch or something so he can play Pokemon while you drive + names the ones he catches after the models of nearby cars

you end up staying on the trip way longer than intended because you guys have so much fun

Hanzo:

has a meticulously planned schedule of where you’ll visit and when

wants to take you through the Japanese countryside, maybe stop at a beach or two

very careful driver 

has a Nissan Versa that he babies and refuses to let you eat inside of (though if you bat your eyes at him enough, he’ll give in)

brings a polaroid camera so he can take pictures of all the beautiful sites

keeps the polaroids in a little folder tucked into the glovebox

refuses to get fast food and insists on stopping at cute local cafes

has packed for literally every possible occasion in only one tiny bag

you ask him to stop so you can buy something weird and obscure and he just so happens to have it

“I really wish I had Shrek 2 on DVD right now”

“check the glovebox”

???

has a soft spot for roadside fruit stands and had to stop at every single one to buy stuff 

the whole trunk is filled with fruit. there’s no escape

lets you play whatever music you like and will have your favourite songs memorized by the end of the trip

prefers experiences to souvenirs, but if you buy him a keychain or something he’ll treasure it forever

Baptiste:

annoyingly slow driver

everyone is passing you guys

has a pretty solid plan of where he wants to go but he’s open to feedback

has an immaculate sense for choosing the best local restaurants

always wants to try the most niche food combos he can find—like deep fried milk

needs to have his water bottle, an energy drink and a fun drink or else he can’t drive

wears sunscreen in the car and stops every few hours to reapply

cringes at your driving no matter how you drive and definitely gives you at least one (1) lecture about the dangers of speeding

loves tourist traps and wants to stop at every one you pass

insists on getting those dorky commemorative t-shirts from said tourist attractions so that the two of you can match

loves salt water taffy and looks for fun weird flavours wherever you find them

his entire centre console ends up being FULL of them by the end of the trip

he has the ac in the car on full blast to the point you’re shivering

not big on taking pictures but loves videos—he has about a thousand of the two of you trying new fun drinks and snacks

it’s been so long since he was able to be on the road without worrying about Talon—and he never wants to go back

Lucio:

nobody is more fun than him on a road trip

has a super fun car that he’s souped up and decorated to hell

the car has window tint so dark that you can’t see into it

does not obey traffic laws. you’re getting so many tickets, im sorry

buys those window markers so the two of you can draw on them when you’re bored

chooses the music and probably has a thirty hour long meticulously curated playlist

car singalongs all day

drinks so many energy drinks you’re surprised his heart still works

wants to stop in every single town to try their local specialties 

doesn’t really have a solid plan or anything, just wants to hit the road and see where you end up

wears increasingly goofy disguises when going out in public

“omg is that Lucio?”

“where?”

gets dragged into performing at least one impromptu concert somewhere

takes turns driving with you so the other can rest and reads out gossip articles about himself to entertain you

every hotel you stay in is a different gimmick and he goes crazy for it. the sillier the better

posts cute pictures of the two of you on his insta and is always taking candids

wants to make your roadtrip an annual thing

Mauga:

insists on taking his big ass Jeep that he refers to as “Little Betty” and refuses to let anyone else drive ‘her’ 

completely reckless driver too

drives with one hand on the wheel, music way too loud, the windows down even when you’re going like 110

he lets you pick the music as long as its upbeat 

constantly drinking some weird protein shake 

absolutely no plan of where he wants to go, just wants to hit up some nice beaches

has all of your stuff crammed in the back so high that you couldn’t possibly see out of the back window

drives in the sluttiest skimpiest tank top ever 

wants to try all the local cocktails and party in every town you stop in

gets drunk and becomes best friends with everyone he meets

needs to collect a Hawaiian print shirt in every place you stop in to commemorate the occasion

wants more than anything to teach you how to surf

he stops at every beach you pass and BEGS you to try it out

either wants to sleep in a five star hotel or on the beach with no shelter. there is no inbetween

takes one awkward blurry picture of the two of you throughout the entire trip and puts it in his wallet

Summer Suntacular | Masterlist | Overwatch Masterlist

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