remember kids, if you rip the bong too hard and you’re coughing so much you feel like you’re gonna puke, chug water like a 5-year-old after playtime, then hit the vape. learned that in highschool my first time hitting a cart. doesn’t get rid of the pain completely, but makes it a lot more bearable.
Now that I’m back in the writing groove, I wanted to do another one of these even though I didn’t follow through with the first one I made. Once the polls close, I’ll get whatever ya’ll picked out within a week.
Who should my next fanfiction or one-shot be about? (X Reader)
Now that I’m back in the writing groove, I wanted to do another one of these even though I didn’t follow through with the first one I made. Once the polls close, I’ll get whatever ya’ll picked out within a week.
Who should my next fanfiction or one-shot be about? (X Reader)
i have noticed a severe lack of Tankman content since the last time i was here, and that is making me incredibly motivated to write and draw more content for all the small characters i like for all the others out there who are as disappointed in the lack as i am. i have remembered my purpose.
Silly oneshot, please let me know if I should continue it!
~~~
I did not want to win the lottery.
For my 21st birthday, my grandpa got me a scratch ticket, the only gift I’d gotten from that side of the family. I had never wanted much money, just enough to move out and support myself, but my grandpas side of the family, in which each adult member made at least 90K a year, refused to pay for anything for me once i turned 15, so saving was tough. I was really hoping for ballpark $2,000, but when I scratched that ticket my heart pounded like a club on a steak.
I won over a million dollars after taxes. I know that’s not exactly “winning” the lottery since it can get much much higher, but it was more money than I would ever end up totaling in my lifetime.
I kept my win a secret from my family which was probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, and moved out quietly over the course of a few days. They had been pushing me to do so for years, yet any time I tried, they threw a fit. This time, I crossed states and tossed my phone.
A friend of mine, ironically named Dallas, set up an apartment for me in Philadelphia before I cut contact with Texas and I got settled in pretty quickly. It took a while to cope with not having to work ever again, but I started up my usual routine of going to shows and hanging out at bars and diners with groups of people I met at 2AM. I spent every moment like the teenager I never got to be and it was exhilarating. But that’s when the trouble started.
One Friday night or Saturday morning, whichever you prefer, I was at a bar with a band I was friends with and their partners, all of us drunk and down for karaoke, the single ones of us throwing in some flirting with strangers to spice up the night. While we were there I caught my eye on this one group of well built men in the corner who seemed to be playing some sort of drinking game. Their laughter added a warm touch to the racket of the noisy but somewhat glum bar. The Phillys lost again, go figure.
As my friends and I chatted, the bar DJ announced over the mic that karaoke would be starting soon and that we needed to start picking our songs. I, like the prepared musician I am, had my bass on me at the time since I was filling in for one of the bands that night and didn’t want to leave it in my car to get stolen. I picked the literal only song I knew that I could play and sing at the same time reasonably well while plastered.
When my song came up, I took out my bass, drew in a deep breath, and walked to the stage with confident steps that couldn’t have been further from a straight line. As I played I felt that familiar feeling of everyone watching me, and I know I’ve caught the audiences attention. About halfway through though, I feel one pair of eyes explicitly focused on me and me alone. I follow that feeling to the corner of the bar where two of the drunk laughing men were nudging their friend in the middle. As I exit my performance, I learn why.
The stage lights blur in my drunken vision as I step down with my case and walk along the aisle of tables and chairs. Out of the corner of my eye I see a man approach me and as I turn it becomes clear why his friends were teasing him. The man was a blushing mess, eyes glossed over and pupils dilated in a puppy-like fashion. Upon getting a closer look I could tell he was most certainly military, his broad shoulders and toned muscles pushing through his tank top, all accentuated by a mop of messy black hair. “Hey there, handsome,” I started. “What can I do ya for?”
“Me. Wait, I mean, uh… you could do.. let me start over.” He shook his head as if trying to become more sober. It did not help. “Um… could I buy you a drink?”
“Absolutely you can. Watcha got in your hand there?”
He raised his hand and looked at it confused, as if he forgot he was holding a beer. “Oh! It’s uh… I actually forgot, my mates ordered it for me.” He laughed nervously and my eyes flitted between his and the glass.
“Can I try it? Could probably tell ya what it is.”
“Sure!”
He was about to hand it to me. It was so close. My tongue yearned for the beer. But just as it was in my grasp, he took it back and took a big sip. I was about to protest, but before I knew it there was an arm around my waist, lips on mine, and alcohol in my throat. Shit, I’ll use tongue, why not, I thought. Fuck, he’s hot.
My face heated up to match this stranger who’s name I didn’t yet know, and yet I kissed him back with such passion it felt like a reunion. His grip on my waist loosened and we let each other go, one watching the other pant slightly. He wiped a drip away from his chin and cleared his throat, asking, “So- so, uh… sit down? Us? Let’s sit?”
“Ah, um… yes. Yes, I agree with this statement.”
He did a silly little finger gun movement to garner a laugh from me and we sat down at the bar away from my friends who were no doubt already hooing and hawing about me kissing my first stranger. I ordered a dirty shirley and of course I got carded like usual, and the man next to me ordered a manhattan. I eyed his drink choice curiously, noting how mich it differed from his mates’.
“So… I never caught your name,” I started.
“Oh, right! Captain Captain John Tankman.”
“Captain… twice?”
“Ah… yeah, I’m an Army captain and my first name is also Captain. You can laugh, I know it’s stupid.”
“Dude, that’s cool as shit. You worked your way up to earn your name, not many people can or would do that.”
“You think?”
“I do think.” I took a long sip of my drink before telling him my name. He was quiet for a moment, staring at me with an entranced look, before chugging the rest of his drink.
“You,” he said while wiping alcohol from his lips. “Are quite possibly the coolest person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, Corey. Can I call you Corey?”
“Oh yeah, I prefer it shortened like that.”
“Cool, cool… so about that kiss?”
“Yeah, what was that all about dude? I mean, I’m definitely not complaining…”
“Oh, I know you’re not complaining~”
The tone of his voice at that remark made me sputter hard enough to order a shot of vodka. I took it down fast and turned to John, saying, “Uh- yeah, well, uh… way to dodge the question, homo.”
“Homo? Hahahah, you may be right about that. Just a little. Well to answer your question, uh… I guess you can already tell, I… got kind of a thing for you. Y’know, your fae-like features and hypnotic voice, yada yada. Anyways, my boys were teasing me-“
“I’m sorry, what did you just say-“
“ANYWAY, MY BOYS WERE TEASING ME FOR IT and they dared me to go up and kiss you after your set. You made it… kinda easy.”
“And how did you know I wouldn’t just push you off? Or find that remark creepy?”
“Oh, my boys said you were staring at me like hardcore earlier before the karaoke was announced.”
“WHAT? I WASN’T STARING THAT HARD! Was I…?”
John chuckled at me as I shamed myself, but collected himself to lean in and ask, “Wanna get outta here?”
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