In the Damn Kitchen - Poolverine 1/2
Smut will come in next chapter I promise, just needed to get this part out into the world first to see if people like it. (AO3)
Warnings/tags: roommates, first Kiss, idiots in love, eventual smut, canon-typical behavior
Wordcount: 1224
Summary: Logan and Wade are some weird kind of roomates, and one morning Logan tries to figure out how to make Wade shut the fuck up without getting blood in his breakfast.
Logan has been staying with Wade on his shitty pull-out couch for three months. Something that was meant to be somewhat temporary is feeling less and less like that these days.
They still fight physically, stabbing each other and making a mess (that Al complains about later), but they also just hang out.
Which Logan isn’t used to.
Not anymore.
Haven’t been for a good while.
Wade has grown on him, even with all the touching. And talking.
All the goddamn talking.
It rarely stops.
Wade talks on the inhale and exhale.
Not even when he eats is Wade quiet, talking with his mouth full of food. He has been doing it less lately, after Logan stabbed him with a fork a few times so he wouldn’t have to see that shit.
Wade is only quiet when he’s sleeping.
Logan has returned late from a bar or late-night walks a few times to Wade asleep on the pullout. Seeing him quiet and still had been odd. Wade’s ADHD filled ass never being still when he’s awake.
Wade also sleeps like he’s dead. Logan had discovered this when he tried to wake him so he would move the first time. It was legitimately difficult to wake him up. So after that first time where it took an eternity to get him conscious enough to move, Logan either goes to sleep in the armchair he had gotten off the street the first week he was here, or tips Wade onto the floor with a pillow if he is in a bad mood.
When he doesn’t give a shit, he’ll just crawl onto the pullout with Wade. He tends to wake up before him anyway. The few times he doesn’t, a few claws to the guts makes Wade shut up, or at least talk about something else.
Another thing he hasn’t quite gotten used to, is how casual Wade is about touch.
Sure, Wade had been touching him a bunch when they first met. But that had been to rile Logan up, to get a reaction, even if it was all negative. (The Honda doesn’t count in any positive way, the intent behind all of that had been hate and adrenaline. Even if the end result had been good.)
Now though, it’s a hand patting his shoulder as they pass in the kitchen. A thigh bumping against his own as they watch shitty reality tv. Feet kicking him under the dinner table if he says something too blunt or rude. A shoulder bumping against his as they walk that damn ugly dog together.
It makes his skin crawl, mostly with how used to it he has become. And how he kinda, not that he will admit this to anyone but his own thoughts, likes it.
It’s all become routine, a weird kind of domestic, (Logan hates that word), that works for them.
Speaking of routine, Logan often makes breakfast for them. Wade can barely cook, Al is blind, and Logan doesn’t mind that much most of the time. He needs to eat a lot anyway, and getting something into Wade that is somewhat healthy and not just all sugar makes him a little less irritating to deal with during the day.
Wade of course likes to tease him when he cooks. Stealing bites before it’s ready. Logan has become quite adept at fighting just with a spatula, smacking hands away with a grunted ‘fuck off.’
He’s off his game this morning though, as Wade manages to snatch a piece of bacon, straight from the pan where it was almost finished. Logan knows it must be burning his mouth and tongue, but Wade crunches on his price with a grin on his face.
He’s wearing Deadpool pajama pants, bunny slippers, and a pink long sleeve with Hello Kitty on it, and frankly looks ridiculous leaning on the counter, extra so next to Logan who is fully dressed for the day in his flannel, t-shirt, jeans, and boots.
“Haven’t had enough coffee yet peanut?” Logan grunts, smacking Wade’s hand as it tries to go for another piece.
“Fuck off.”
“Oh you know I love it when you talk dirty to me, even this early in the morning.”
“It’s 10 am dipshit.”
“Oh you know the saying, it’s always 5 am somewhere.” Logan snorts, shaking his head. He grabs a plate to put the finished bacon on, putting some more in the pan. He lets Wade take a piece from the plate.
“Besides, I kept waking up because my dreams were being haunted by this sexy lumberjack looking figure, and I woke up with a raging hard-on that I had to take care of every-” Logan tunes him out, a necessary and learned skill by now. He flips the bacon, then stirs the eggs in the other pan where he’s keeping them warm on low heat.
There’s a hand in his hair, and that makes his focus snap back to Wade and his yapping.
“You know, I always wonder if you roll out of bed with these little tufts.” Logan pushes his hand away, letting the claws out just enough so he knicks Wade’s skin.
“Ouchie, someone’s a grump this morning. You’ve clearly not gotten enough caffeine in your hot bod yet. We should get that coffee that has a fuckton of it, the one with the skull or whatever, that lethal shit. Wonder if that would actually kill you, do you think your heart could give out on you? I think they even make you sign a wai-” Logan tunes him out again and wonders what it will take to shut Wade up. He is right, Logan has not had enough coffee for this. (Or booze, but he’s trying to do a little less of that.)
Logan absentmindedly notices one of Wade’s scars on his cheek looks kinda almost like an H, and his mind drifts to the Honda. Unintentional, though not unwelcome
He’d rather not get blood on his bacon right now, so he goes for another component of all that shit.
He steps to the side and turns, leaning forward, pressing his lips against Wade’s. It’s a brief kiss, but Wade doesn’t immediately say anything as Logan leans back just enough to gauge his reaction. He's enjoying the silence as Wade's eyes are flickering all over his face.
Wade’s mouth is gaping like a fish, opening and closing before his brain is booting back up. It makes Logan snort as he leans back all the way back.
The silence lasts for maybe thirty seconds.
“What the fuck peanut? You interupted me mid-monologue, that was fucking rude you-”
“Thought it would shut you up, but I see that didn’t work.” Logan takes a step back, but is hauled back by hands twisted in the collar of his flannel.
“Oh no, you are not going anywhere until I get an explanation, or more.” Logan arches a brow, hands at his side, not touching Wade. The urge to punch or stab him is rising.
And the urge to kiss him.
Again.
He knows all of the options would work for Wade.
“I gave you an explanation.”
“Grew tired of the claws old man? Don’t wanna stab this supple fle-”
“God you are desperate.” Logan doesn’t know if he means it as an insult or a compliment, but kisses Wade again anyway.
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Hi friend, please give us more streamer Max AU! First interaction between them maybe??
part 1 here
Daniel blinks awake, groggily turning off his alarm and rubbing his eyes, blindly reaching for the water on his bedside table.
The room is still pitch dark, the night quiet outside.
2:55 am.
He grabs his phone, settling again onto the pillows and clicking through his apps until he can open the now familiar twitch app and navigate to Max's channel, just in time to see the starting soon screen appear as it goes live.
He knows this is ridiculous. He knows that he is not helping himself or his unstable sleep patterns by setting an alarm in the middle of the night to watch a guy stream from somewhere in Europe, but as long as nobody knows nobody can judge him either, so that's okay.
He yawns, scratching at his chest, watching people say hello to each other in chat as it comes alive.
He has yet to ever type something there.
In the two weeks he's been watching Max, he has managed to figure out what subscriptions and gifted subs are, Max's schedule (stream four times a week plus whenever he feels like it), and has started to recognise some usernames in chat. But there is something about actually typing that feels...revealing.
His username is generic, just Daniel_358, the number randomly chosen until twitch stopped telling him the username was taken, but that's still his name. Connected to his private email. And he knows he's not doing anything wrong, but it still feels forbidden, to wake up at night and spend about two hours just looking at Max.
The screen suddenly changes, switching to Max's camera, his pretty smiling face filling Daniel's small screen. Not for the first time, he thinks about setting up the projector, just to be able to see more.
"Hello everyone, it's Friday! And we're playing Minecraft today."
Daniel lets Max's now familiar accent wash over him, feeling himself smile back instinctively. Max looks soft today in the dim golden glow of his light, a faded sweatshirt almost covering the very short grey shorts he's wearing, and it makes Daniel wish he had Max right there, in his bed, warm and sleep rumpled in the sheets.
Yes, he is aware how weird that is too. He knows that it would maybe be less weird if he only got off watching Max's streams.
He has by now mostly figured out Max's deal. He'll play his games, talk with chat, and from time to time do something that will make Daniel's breath stutter in his chest. Touching his legs, squeezing himself through his shorts, raising his shirt to touch his stomach, trailing his fingers down towards his pants. One memorable time, he had pushed it high enough to touch his own nipple, a visible shudder traveling through him. Daniel had almost come on the spot.
The whole stream sometimes ends up feeling like a 2 hours long edging session, and he is so painfully hard by the end of it he comes as soon as he gets a hand around himself, waiting until Max has said goodbye to do so.
He doesn't always get off though. One time he had actually fallen back to sleep, Max's voice and Stardew's soft sounds lulling him straight into dreamland. But he always gets at least a little bit hard, something too sensual and alluring about Max for him to help himself.
Today though, Max seems more subdued. He still has his legs splayed open, miles of fuzzy skin on display, but he's focusing more on the game, even replying less to chat.
Daniel frowns, knowing he's not the only one who has noticed it, other worried messages popping up, mixed with a few more rude ones, telling Max to get on with it already.
"Sorry chat," Max says, finally acknowledging the messages with a small laugh. He takes a hand away from his keyboard, but instead of one of the usual teasing touches, he brings it up to his face, rubbing at his eyes and then dragging it down his cheek.
"It's been a long week," he adds with a sigh, before pushing himself to sit a bit straighter, pulling his smile back on. He's playing with the hem of his shorts now, pulling them high enough they completely disappear under the sweatshirt, but Daniel can tell it's an halfhearted attempt at best.
For the first time, he pulls up the chat, fingers itching to write something, but not knowing how to word it without being offensive. "You don't have to touch yourself if you don't want to"? Nobody ever actually acknowledges that bit out loud, he can't be that direct. "You don't have to stream if you are tired"? Would that feel like he's telling Max he doesn't care about his stream? He doesn't want that to be the first impression Max has of him.
Daniel_358: anything we can do?
He feels stupid as soon as he sends it, cringing at himself. What would he even do? He's on the other side of the world, a complete stranger.
And yet Max smiles, soft and sweet, and Daniel's stupid heart jumps in his chest.
"Hello Daniel, welcome in. You just being here is enough."
Daniel knows, he knows, that Max is just saying that, just a throwaway line to make him feel good, but at the same time he can't help but melt a little at the way Max says his name. At the thought of Max wanting him there.
He watches as a few more messages pop up, offering vague support, and sees the moment it gets too much for Max, his face closing off a little as he goes back to the game, trying to redirect chat's attention to it.
Without thinking too much about it, Daniel navigates to Max's profile down to the donate button. He's hovered over it often enough he doesn't have any trouble finding it, but it still takes him a couple tries to figure out how to properly go through with it.
A few moments later, a new alert pops up on the stream, startling Max (and Daniel, even if he knew it was coming) badly enough he accidentally falls out of a tree.
Daniel_358 has donated €358: for making it through the week and as good luck for the next
Max blinks. Pauses the game, then blinks again.
"I..uh...thank you Daniel for the donation? That's...a lot of money, mate," he stutters out, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. "Are you sure?"
Daniel_358: of course
Daniel_358: you deserve it
Max's cheeks are red, his blue eyes wide, and Daniel's heart is still doing something weird in his chest.
"Thank you, then. It's...I of course appreciate it."
His voice sounds off, and for a moment Daniel is afraid he did something wrong, but then Max smiles, some tension in his shoulders disappearing.
"Well, Daniel just made the week better, so let's go back to chopping trees, yes?"
The chat explodes in a flurry of yeses and nodding emotes, and Daniel settles back on his pillows, feeling warm and satisfied.
The rest of the stream is more normal, Max going back to his usual teasing a few moments later, but for once Daniel doesn't feel like getting off, content with just watching Max's pretty smile and rosy blush. He still gets hard, he's not suddenly gone crazy (...or more crazy at least), but it doesn't feel as consuming as usual.
By the time Max says goodbye, Daniel is half asleep, curled up in his blankets, his phone laying on the pillow next to his.
When the screen goes dark he yawns, stretching slightly and dipping two fingers into his boxers, trying to decide if he feels like getting off or if he's sleepy and content enough to save it for the morning.
He's brushing a finger against the tip of his dick, still contemplating, when his phone dings, a new notification sound he's never heard before. Curious, he takes his hand out, reaching for it and unlocking it.
The twitch app is still open, now with a red number 3 next to the messages icon, and when he clicks on it he almost drops his phone again in surprise.
Player00Max: Hello Daniel
Player00Max: I hope it is okay if i message you I wanted to thank you for the donation
Player00Max: but it is a lot of money so I of course can reimburse you if you changed your mind
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Okay this is a rant
Fans project onto the drivers waaaaaay too much. They push their own emotions, personalities, and points of view on whichever driver is their favorite and try to force everything they say and do to fit that. It’s why there is so much Lando and Oscar hate right now. The fans are desperate for those two to be what they want them to be, usually soft uwu boys. And the minute they deviated away from it, especially Lando, everyone labeled them as evil or arrogant. I’m not even a Lando or Oscar fan and I can see that.
Famously all drivers are extremely competitive, willing to do whatever it takes, think theyre the best, and are assholes on the track. You can’t be in f1 without those traits. But so many fans refuse to admit that and the minute it becomes clear that this is the truth and not whatever fantasy they created, they freak. It’s beyond ridiculous. You should not be a fan of f1 if you can’t handle this. Cause yes, the drivers will say rude things, they will be arrogant about their skills, they will be bitchy about team orders, they will get pissy when they lose, they will usually not get along with their teammate, they will snipe at each other in the press, they will push too hard and hit each other on track and then claim it wasn’t their fault. That’s what happens. That’s fucking f1.
I’ve watched this sport get slowly santitized as the years go on, as new fans come in and decide the things they don’t like must be changed. It’s ridiculous. So now all teammates have to be best friends. So now team orders are evil. So now a driver being upset they didn’t win in ungrateful. So now a team is heartless for cutting an underperforming driver loose. So now all the drivers must be perfectly behaved little princes who are always happy, and grateful, and kind. I cannot imagine how frustrating and demeaning that is for them. I would rip out my own hair if people treated me like that. But no, if a driver expressed frustration with this I can almost guarantee fans would call them spoiled or ungrateful.
And on top of that all they have to contain, you have cameras shoved in their faces wherever they go. Any video you find of a driver, and their are at least five cameras not even a foot away from them. And people scream in their face, and grab them, and expect them to give them time because theyre a fan. Every movement is scrutinized, their facial expression and body language are over analyzed, people make assumptions about their relationships and lives, and they can’t say boo about it. It’s been like this to a smaller extent for years of course but it’s just exploded since honestly DTS. If I had 30 people shoving merch at me screaming my name, I signed it, and then some asshole on the internet made a whole video about how I wasn’t pleasant enough when I was getting mobbed and treated like a commodity I would explode.
I guess to finish off this super long take, I just want to say that f1 drivers will never be what you want them to be. So either fix your expectations and let them be human or stop fucking watching.
Send us your unpopular F1 opinions!
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As a general rule, Marc tries not to listen to anything Valentino Rossi says in interviews or podcasts. It’s always bullshit, so much that it’s not even news when he says something rude. People have stopped sending Marc headlines and clips; it’s old news that Vale is still full of hate despite his retirement.
This time though, he’s gone too far.
Marc didn’t mean to see it and he definitely didn’t seek it out, but the clip embeds itself in Marc’s brain and distracts him for days.
How dare Vale?
The longer Marc spends thinking about it, the angrier he gets. Why does Vale spend so much time running his mouth? He has a daughter and a new career. He should be too busy to complain about Marc and accuse him of terrible things.
Marc waits until Alex is out of the house to start tearing it apart. He’s looking for his old cell phone— the one from years ago that has old phone numbers still stored in it. It’s a ridiculous idea, contacting Vale, but the anger and hurt is churning in Marc’s gut. He hates that Vale still has the power to make him feel like this.
Here!
Marc finds it in a drawer in the office he barely uses, and he plugs it in. He waits impatiently for it to charge enough to turn on, chewing his thumb nail and ruminating on what to say. He can’t decide if he should match Vale’s level of vitriol and go for the jugular or if he should be vague and passive aggressive.
The phone turns on.
Marc scrolls through the contacts and finds the one he wants, then types it into his current phone. He leaves the old one charging and starts typing his message.
You have a daughter. Is she not enough to hold your attention? Why do you have to keep accusing me of awful things? I’ve never hurt you on purpose but all you do is twist the knife. Grow up and focus on being a father, not trying to ruin my life.
He sends it without hesitation, then sets his phone down, oblivious to the way the message immediately changes to
read.
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hey, just a heads up, in future, if possible, please dont post show stuff or things actively disparaging the games in the 'akumajou dracula' tag. thats the tag used for the games, seperately to the netflix series, and it's considered rude to crosspost in there, or talk about how much you dislike (elements of) the games. it would likely be upsetting to you if we all posted things we dislike about the show in the 'netflix castlevania' tag. we also only have the 'akumajou dracula' tag because the 'castlevania' tag has been entirely overrun with show content, and it becomes very difficult for us to view content for the games, so please let us have our space for that.
You guys constantly post racist shit under the castlevania netflix tag. Like, the amount of times I have to see people raging about Isaac and Annette being Black under the tag - especially when something new releases - is fucking ridiculous. It is not even well thought out criticism most of the times, just completely fake made up shit, and a lot of racism. Sooooo muuuuuch racism.
Honestly folks. I do adore at least those games that fall into the classic metroidvania stuff (so Rondo, Symphony, and then the GBA/NDS games). But you guys and your fucking horrid racism can ruin those games for everyone.
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