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mrs-hatake · 20 days ago

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Jealous LADS Men

Pairing: Caleb x F!Reader, Sylus x F!Reader & Zayne x F!Reader. ⟡ Genre: Jealousy ⟡ Word Count: 1158 ⟡ O.D.P (Original Date of Publication): December 24th, 2024

A/N: i blame woo do hwan for this (he’s all the men u flirt with lol) ;u;

Sylus

It’s not common for Sylus to leave N109 to venture into other cities. It’s even rarer for him to be in Linkon in broad daylight.

But Sylus has noticed a…shift in Your behavior recently. Sylus is too mature to admit that curiosity is eating him up inside but he will confess that Your lack of appearance at his manor has piqued his interest.

At first, Sylus brushes it off as You being busy with work. Wanderers have been sprouting about it recently so he imagines the hunters have been off to battle frequently. With the increase in numbers of those filthy creatures, they’re probably grabbing any hunter they can find.

Yet when the dangers have dispersed, You still barely show up at his place. Just this morning Sylus has scoffed at himself for pacing around his study, as if he’s some pup eagerly waiting for his master’s return.

Bothered at himself, Sylus sends out Mephisto to track your location.

The robotic bird informs him that You’re at the Deepspace Hunter Association’s main building, working on some documents.

This is how we find Sylus expertly bypassing all the security cameras and alarms installed in the building. He hears Mephisto through the earpiece that You’re currently at the outdoor training grounds with your friends.

Sylus is on the roof overlooking the training grounds without breaking a sweat.

He sees a group of cadets gathered around a matted area. There are rows of benches surrounding the makeshift ring where two boxers are battling it out.

Sylus snaps his fingers and a pair of binoculars emerge through a smoke of crimson red. It doesn’t take him too long to spot You.

You’re sitting in the middle, friends surrounding You left and right. A white eyebrow raises in curiosity as You and Your friends say something and then burst into a fit of giggles.

Sylus sees one of Your friends pointing towards the ring, whispering something to You before You playfully shove her.

Following where Your friend is pointing, Sylus’ gaze lands on the two men fighting on the ring. Specifically, a black haired man with very slanted eyes. The man fights seriously, as if he is facing an enemy. He knocks out his opponent in two minutes which earns him an eruption of cheers from the group of girls. Sylus doesn’t miss how loudly you clap and cheer for him.

Sylus’ insides curled in protest at the repulsive sight.

You’ve been away this whole time because of some…some, pretty boy?

Sylus has never thought of You as someone so superficial. Or as someone who’s looking to date. Because even when Sylus drags you to all those parties You hate, where men drool all over You, some bold enough to flirt, You never paid them attention.

But You’re acting like a shy school girl over this insignificant bug? Ridiculous.

Movement below catches Sylus attention again. It takes every ounce of self control for Sylus to not break his binoculars.

The little bug runs up to You when he notices You holding a cold bottle of water and clean towels for him. The boy flashes You what he thinks is a charming smile (Sylus thinks he looks like a creep) and throws a wink Your way before he’s back on the ring.

Snapping the binoculars away, Sylus turns away from the revolting scene.

Should You grace Sylus with Your presence, he’ll show just how pretty and strong a man can be.

Zayne

Zayne absolutely despises going to the coffee shop across the street from Deepspace Hunter Association’s main building. He yearns to take You to a different coffee shop but Your lunch break is only an hour and any other decent coffee shop is at least thirty minutes away from Your workplace.

Zayne has suggested that he brings You lunch to work, tempting You by promising that he’ll cook all of Your favorite meals but You refused.

You’ve explained to him that being stuck at work all day long is driving You crazy and You’re not going to sacrifice Your freedom and sanity no matter what.

So Zayne has to sit in this humble sized coffee shop with hanging flowers decorating the walls and soft jazz music playing in the background.

To be honest, the establishment isn’t so bad. The prices are reasonable. The food they serve is very delicious and Zayne will admit that their coffee is the best in the city. So, really, Zayne doesn’t have any reason to complain about this place.

Except for the fact that one of their baristas is an attractive young man that You’ve been eyeing ever since they had hired him.

Zayne has to watch You with a hollow heart as You bat Your eyes prettily at the man with slanted eyes as he compliments Your dress. The dress that Zayne has seen You purchased on Your phone just like this.

A compliment or two from men is fine, Zayne doesn’t mind it much. You are a beautiful woman after all so he doesn’t blame them. But does the barista have to draw hearts, flowers and cute emojis in all of Your coffee orders?

At least Zayne doesn’t have to hear You gushing about him like You do with Tara. He fears he might do something illegal if he does.

Caleb

There really should be a support group for men who are not only bother-zoned but have to spend their only day off of the week watching their crush flirt with another man.

Caleb is sitting on his beach towel with his arms crossed as he shoots lasers at the lifeguard talking to You. He holds back screams of frustration as You shyly laugh at something the other man said and playfully smack his well defined pectorals.

What’s worse is that You’re wearing a frilly pink bikini that Caleb loves so much. It’s not fair that the lifeguard, some loser who’s most likely a closeted creep and perv, gets to freely ogle at Your smoking hot body while Caleb can’t.

Internally, Caleb screams, a cacophony of frustration and envy echoing in the hollows of his mind. Every laugh from Your lips feels like a dagger to his heart. Each flirtatious glance You exchanged with the lifeguard made his blood boil.

The final straw is when You call him gege. Yes, gege can be used for anyone but You know that this honorific is Caleb’s weakness. You’re also aware of how upset he gets when You use it on other men, even You have called out his illogical mindset.

Unable to stomach the sight before him, Caleb is on his feet. He’s trudging to the lifeguard station where you’re both at.

He’ll snatch You away from that snake and drag You back home if it means it will put an end to Caleb’s torture.

You being angry is a price he’s willing to pay because, by the end of the night, he’ll make sure You’re his.

#sylus x reader #zayne x reader #caleb x reader #jealous lads #sylus x you #zayne x you #caleb x you #sylus x y/n #zayne x y/n #caleb x y/n

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woradat · 21 days ago

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just wonder.. will you write for rodimus? 🥺 I mean, that jump-to-your-soul pic of him have to mean something right??

also do you take any req?

Done with your ex

SUMMARY – just an ego through the roof captain and his ex on the same ship, long trip together

PAIRING – rodimus x reader

NOTE – you take a hint huh. What are you, a government spy? I'm already working on him for a while now. And yes, I do a requests. You can see the rules/details in the pinned post. I just added+edit about few day ago

The loading ramp of the Lost Light hissed open like the universe itself was trying to be dramatic

Rodimus barely glanced up. He was in the middle of arguing with Swerve about whether installing retractable flame decals on the hull would count as 'atmospheric augmentation" or just "unnecessary and definitely going to kill us"

Then he saw movement out of the corner of his optic—and everything in his CPU short-circuited

There you were

Striding up the ramp like you owned it. Like you hadn’t ghosted out of his life with nothing but a pointed sentence and that half-smile that always meant checkmate. Like you hadn’t once told him—flatly, and with clinical precision—that loving him felt like "trying to put a fire out with gasoline"

And dammit if you didn’t look exactly the same. Polished. Poised. Primed for war and polite company. Elegant as ever. Calm as a sunset before a Category Five energon storm

You weren’t flash, never were—but you had that aura. That smooth, coiled presence like a vibroblade sheathed in silk. Oh the look—that faint, unreadable smile like you knew something he didn’t and were gracious enough to let him flounder in ignorance. That same neutral expression you used when pretending not to judge the tactical decisions of people clearly beneath your IQ range. That same stride that said “I’ve already calculated the probability of this going sideways and I brought snacks"

Rodimus froze, his spark dropped so hard it might’ve left a dent in his internals ‘No. Nope. Absolutely not!’

It couldn’t be you

Except, of course, it was. Because the universe loved poetic suffering and apparently it was his turn to monologue through one. He stared. You stared back. Unbothered. Professional. Radiating the exact same emotional energy as someone walking past their ex at a high-society gala—with better posture and zero regrets

Rodimus blinked so hard his optic lens recalibrates “What— what are you doing here?”

You didn’t even flinch. Just turned to him with a look that was one part serene and two parts smug, tilted your helm slightly. That little angle that always meant “I heard that. I’m just choosing violence later” Your voice, when it came, was like silk over sharpened steel

“Captain. How lovely to see you again”

“You’ve got to be—this is—no. Nope. Absolutely not”

Ultra Magnus appeared like a summoned ghost behind you, arms crossed, expression stiffer than a rusted gear “As I explained in my three prior reports, they’ve been appointed to the crew as strategic analyst”

Rodimus blinked "Three reports?"

“High-level pattern recognition. Crisis forecasting, multi-factional battle simulations, inter-faction negotiation” Magnus went on, tone flatter than the C.I.C. floor “They’ve been correct approximately 91.3% of the time. Statistically, that qualifies them as one of the best. They will be a valuable addition”

You gave a modest nod. Like someone who totally didn’t memorize those numbers already “Besides” you added smoothly

“I’m here for work. Nothing more. You can unclench now, Captain”

Rodimus looked like someone had just served him a steaming mug of his own poor life choices “Right. Work. Of course. Just work. Nothing else weird about this at all. Nope. Totally chill"

You stepped closer. Not enough to touch, but enough that your electromagnetic field skimmed his. Cool, clean, unreadable. Like an encrypted data packet wrapped in charm and sarcasm

“You always did have trouble being chill” you murmured “Still trying to solve everything by flying straight into it?”

“But don’t worry, captain. I’m not here to relive the past”

Rodimus sputtered. Behind him, Swerve audibly choked on a laugh “Oh, Primus, it is the ex. The one who called him ‘reckless with delusions of grandeur' I thought that was a metaphor”

You didn’t dignify that with a response. Just tilted your helm, optics flicked to him—neutral. But your smirk said “I win”

And with that, you turned and start walking down the hall—measured, composed, calculating—like a battlefield was unfolding beneath your pedes and you’d already chosen where all the pieces would fall – Rodimus stared after you like he’d just watched his worst mistake reappear in haute couture and get a standing ovation, as if to twist the energon dagger in his spark just a little further, you said—without turning back

“And for the record… I liked you better before you started trying to be respectable

Rodimus stood frozen, expression somewhere between awe, horror, and very mild arousal

“This is fine” he said out loud “This is great.. This is the best worst day I’ve ever had”

“Wanna talk about it?” Swerve offered

“Wanna be spaced through an airlock?”

“You’ve been out here for twenty minutes” Drift said, suddenly beside him. Rodimus jumped like he’d been caught digging through a black ops file “I’m not spying..!” “Sure” Drift glanced pointedly at the window “Just… monitoring morale with your face pressed against the glass?” Rodimus shoved a blank datapad into his hands "I’m checking their reassignment logs! That’s normal. Curiosity is normal” "You could just ask” “I can’t just ask! What if they think I still care?” “Rodimus, you’re literally stalking them through a wall" Rodimus made a noise somewhere between static and a dying turbo-ratchet “Okay, fine. Then you ask”

“Me?” “Yeah. You’ve got that wise monk aura. People think your invasive questions are… philosophical" Drift gave him a look so dry it might’ve been illegal in five star systems “If they throw something at me” he said, turning to leave “I’m blaming you”

Rodimus was not asking

He was simply conducting a targeted data acquisition exercise. Command-level intel. Tactical morale assessment. Strategic background audit on one of his newest officers. Perfectly normal captain things. Not weird. Not personal. Absolutely not fueled by the gnawing ache of unresolved emotional abandonment

“So” he began, too casually, sidling up to the corner of Swerve’s bar where Drift was trying to enjoy a moment of monk-like silence and absolutely not entertain any of Rodimus’s mid-spark crises “hypothetically—if someone used to date someone, and that someone got assigned to their ship without, say, any warning whatsoever, that would be… strange, right?”

“Strange. Uncomfortable. Emotionally volatile” Drift didn’t even look up from his cup “So yes. Very you”

Rodimus scoffed. Loudly. Overcompensating “This isn’t about me”

“Of course not” Drift said blandly “We’re speaking in totally neutral hypotheticals about your insanely sharp, tactically brilliant, emotionally impenetrable ex who now occupies a front-row seat in every strategy meeting like an elegantly silent death sentence”

Rodimus’s scowl could have curdled energon “They’re not that elegant”

“They once ended a meeting by folding a datachip in half. With one hand. While smiling”

Rodimus muttered something under his breath about “intimidation tactics” and “showoffs”. Drift, clearly bored of the deflection game, pulled up a datapad with a flick of the wrist—graceful, like a librarian about to ruin your life “Alright. Let’s see what your not at all relevant ex has been up to post-breakup…”

Rodimus leaned in. But not like he cared. More like he was... intellectually engaged. Professionally intrigued. Possibly a little nauseous

“They worked under Prowl"

“PROWL?! You mean—rules incarnate? Mister ‘Let’s Commit War Crimes But Quietly’ !?”

“The one and only” Drift confirmed smoothly “High-level strategy corps. Joint command ops. Dozens of successful missions. Commendations for tactical elegance, command precision—”

“Okay, okay, you can stop reading their résumé, this isn’t a talent show” Rodimus began to pace, movements sharp and erratic like a hovercraft trying to salsa “They worked with me and said I was reckless, but then they go partner up with Prowl? That sentient flowchart? Seriously?”

Drift was already sipping again “Maybe they like the quiet, measured type now. The kind who doesn’t detonate their own escape pod just to spell ‘hello’ in midair”

“That happened one time”

“And it was somehow still in the mission report”

Rodimus groaned into his hands. He imagined you and Prowl standing next to each other, talking shop, making flawless tactical adjustments while not even blinking at each other — It was horrible. It was clinical. It was worse than anything he could’ve imagined

“What else?” he asked, in the voice of someone about to regret every answer

Drift’s optics flicked “They turned down a permanent command position. Said they wanted a ‘change of pace' ”

“—So… they chose this ship. My ship”

“Seems that way”

“Knowing I was the captain”

“Still seems that way”

Rodimus blinked. Then frowned. Then blinked again, slower. Like it would change the data “So what you’re telling me is: either they’ve secretly forgiven me and came to rekindle the flame—”

“Highly unlikely”

“—or they came here to watch me fail up close, with popcorn in hand and a tactical spreadsheet”

“That one sounds more plausible”

Rodimus placed both hands dramatically on the bartop and huffed. Dramatically. Theatrically. The only way he could before he declared, straightening up “I’m fine.. I’m a professional. This is my ship. I am not threatened by my ex working with a glorified calculator"

...

“…Do you think they ever kissed?”

“Please go to therapy”

—

The outpost was still burning behind you

Fires licked at twisted steel frames and shattered windowpanes, the heat rippling off slagged ground like a second atmosphere. The smoke stung your optics, even with the filters on, but you didn’t blink. Hot Rod stood a few paces away, armor scorched and mouth set in that stubborn line that always came right before he said something reckless. You didn’t give him the chance

“What were you thinking?” Your voice was level. Too level. The kind of calm that meant someone was furious. Hot Rod flinched. Not visibly—but you knew the twitch at the corner of his mouth, the flicker in his EM field when he was caught “I saved them”

He said “I had to”

“You disobeyed a coordinated strategy, blew through our cover, and almost got yourself killed—again”

He looked at you now. Really looked. Heat still clung to him like a second skin, optics burning, frame vibrating with leftover adrenaline. And somewhere underneath all that fire was a flicker of… confusion. As if he still didn’t understand why you weren’t proud of him

“But it worked”

“That’s not the point”

You turned to face him fully, field tightening, anger settling into your shoulders like weight “You’re not a one-mech army, Hot Rod. You’re not invincible. You can’t keep throwing yourself into every explosion and expecting everyone else to clean up after you”

He stepped forward, hands half-raised “I did it to protect other”

“No. You did it because you wanted to be seen protecting other”

There it was. The silence after a sharp cut. His optics widened, and for a moment you saw it, that bare, wounded flicker of a spark hit too close to the truth. But he covered it with bravado—because that’s what he did. That’s what he always did “So that’s it? You think I’m just some attention seeking show off?”

“I think you’re brave. I think you’re passionate. I think you’ll make a great hero one day–”

“..But I also think you’ll never learn how to lead, if you can’t learn how to listen” That hit deeper than the last shot he’d taken in the field

He turned away, jaw locked, fists clenched “So what, then?” he said, voice tight

“You’re walking away? Just like that?”

You hesitated—but only for a moment “I don’t want to. But I can’t spend my life patching up the aftermath of every decision you make on impulse –You always dive first and ask questions later. And I.. I want to build something that lasts. Not chase something that burns” you admitted softly

The silence between you was long and cruel —without another word—you stepped back. Hot Rod didn’t stop you. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what hurt the most

After the breakup with Hot Rod, you took a high-ranking strategic position under Prowl—not romantically, but deeply professionally and intellectually tense

Prowl respected your mindset but hated your moral flexibility and tendency to “go rogue if the math is prettier that way” You – in turn, found Prowl’s rigid morality fascinating and enjoyed poking holes in his logic — Their relationship was legendary among staff—half strategy meetings, half philosophy battles. You both made an unstoppable duo on paper. But behind closed doors?

“That is not regulation protocol”

“Neither is surviving half the war. I’ll take my odds”

Eventually, you left when the war ended, saying something like: “If I stay any longer, I’ll either become you or throw you out an airlock. Neither’s ideal”

The medbay lights flickered once before steadying again. Outside, the sky over the outpost glowed red with the aftermath of an explosion. You stood at the outside, arms crossed, helm tilted just enough to convey “I’m not mad, but I’m seconds away from strangling you with my own field”

The door hissed open with a battered flair, and there he was—Hot Rod in all his half-scorched, grinning, chaos-stained glory. One arm was covered in carbon scoring. His left shoulder was leaking a thin trickle of energon. There was what looked like a thruster casing lodged in his hip plate

And he was still smiling. Of course he was

“You should’ve seen it” Hot Rod said, voice bouncing with adrenaline “I looped around the ridge, came in low—boom! Took out the flank in one go. Didn’t even need backup”

You didn’t look up from your datapad “You told me you’d follow the plan”

“Technically, I did. For the first ten seconds”

“And after that?”

“...It got boring?”

You set the datapad down. Slowly

Hot Rod’s grin twitched “It worked, didn’t it?” he said, stepping closer “Mission success. I’m standing. The ridge is rubble. Everyone’s cheering”

“You nearly didn’t come back”

You stared at him—really stared. All that molten gold, still burning in his optics. His armor still warm from the blast. That stupid, crooked grin he wore like a shield

“You know I hate improvising. Not because it’s reckless. But because it’s you. You gamble like your life isn’t worth anything”

“Hey, come on—”

“Rod”

That landed. His grin faltered for real now

“I’m serious. Every time you run off-script, it’s like you’re testing fate. And I’m the one stuck writing the damage report” You stepped closer, thumb brushing a burn mark near his jaw. The scorch made your spark ache a little. He leaned into your touch without thinking. Like a reflex. Like your hand on his face was the only real thing in the place

“One of these days” you murmured “you’ll pull that stunt and I won’t be there to drag your aft out”

“That’s not true” he said softly

“No?”

“You’d come back for me. Always”

You wanted to argue. But you couldn’t. Not really. Because even now—even furious, even worn out—you were here. And when he leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth his head dipped low down to your jaw, kissing soft like apology, you let him. His hands found your waist. Familiar. Easy. A rhythm you both still remembered

“You love it when I push my luck” he said into your helm

“I love you, Roddy. That doesn’t mean I love watching you destroy yourself”

That hit harder than a mine to the chest. He didn’t pull away. Just held you tighter. You sighed, pressing your faceplate against his shoulder. He still smelled faintly like ozone and energon. Still radiated that wild, sun-hot energy that made you both love and fear him

“Next time” you said into the space between you “you disobey a field order, I’m duct-taping you to Ultra Magnus”

“...Kinky”

You laughed. Just a little. Couldn’t help it “Don’t make me regret loving you”

There was a long silence. No snappy comeback. No flirt. Just a stillness that made your spark ache. His arms tightened around you and for one fleeting, fragile moment—you let yourself believe this would last

—

You are alone in the quiet of the hallway. Staring at the window, the stars wheeling slowly past beyond the glass. It wasn't dramatic solitude—you weren't hiding. Just… decompressing. That was all. Your optics drifted to your own reflection—faint, transparent, caught in the black

And for some damn reason, his voice echoed there instead

“You'd come back for me. Always"

Primus

You let your head fall back with a soft thunk against the reinforced wall. He wasn't wrong

You had come back. Not for him—never that, never openly. But… well. You hadn't exactly gone out of your way to avoid the Lost Light, either. And when Magnus had offered the post? You could've said no. You didn't and now here you were. Sharing meetings. Sharing air. Sharing old ghosts

Your fingers tapped against your datapad in a slow, guilty rhythm

“Stupid charming idiot with fire in his optics and no sense of self-preservation” you muttered under your breath. You knew that smile he gave you in the last meeting. Knew it like a habit you never quite kicked and the worst part? That stupid little ember in your spark still glowed when he looked your way

“Okay. Fine. He was right” You let out a small, strangled sound through your vents

Not quite a groan. Not quite a sigh. Just the noise of someone on the edge of "Why am I like this?" and "I could still jump out the airlock and make it look like strategy” You pressed your head lightly against the cool surface of the wall. Just for a second. Just enough to feel the metal and imagine it was hitting you back. No matter how reckless he was. No matter how much he grinned like the universe owed him forgiveness. No matter how much it still ached when you looked at him and remembered the way things used to be. You stood upright again with a snap of your shoulders and a squint of righteous self-annoyance

“Next time if he opens that mouth" you mumbled “I’m going to verbally gut him. Real clean. Sharp. Professional. Something with bite, doubling the sarcasm. Go for the ego. Aim for the fins. That’ll shut him up" You narrowed your optics at your reflection—your own face looking smug in the glass “He gets one more pass. After that, I’m escalating. He’s going to wish I never came back”

“Stars, I hope he does that thing with his optics again though…” and maybe—maybe—if you kept throwing enough barbs, you could stop remembering how it felt when he held you like that and made you believe the fire wouldn’t burn

You buried your face in your hand

“..I need therapy"

#transformers idw #transformers #transformers x y/n #transformers x reader #transformers x cybertronian reader #hot rod x reader #rodimus x reader #reader insert #cybertronian reader

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hometoursandotherstuff · 2 days ago

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She is a beauty. Brick 1895 Romanesque Revival in St. Louis, MO has 7bds, 3.5ba, 5,967sqft, $1.15m + $5/mo HOA.

Grand entrance has gorgeous wainscoting, stairs, built-ins, and fireplace. Everything looks original except for the new floor.

The sitting room has bas relief design in the ceiling, an original medallion, thick crown molding, beautiful wood and fireplace.

Look at the different style fireplace in the reception room. This home is ready to be decorated. Look at the long window seat.

The wood in this dining room is magnificent. Look at the columns, wainscoting, fireplace wall and inlaid flooring. Perfection.

This kitchen is ridiculous. It's so vintage. It even has a big built-in banquette. They really did a good update.

Either those cabinets are original or they really chose the perfect match.

The half bath under the stairs. This is nice.

The carvings on these stairs. Look at the lions on the bench.

Give this home some color and maybe wallpaper and it will bring out all of this wood. The gray has got to go.

Huge primary bedroom has a terrace. This is lovely.

Oh, my, look at this vintage bath remodel. You can't see it, but they added a walk-in shower, too. All marble. At least some of it has to be original.

The bedrooms are so spacious and each one has a different style fireplace.

Another beautifully restored vintage bath. Love the yellow.

This home office has a pretty wall boarder and cute little fireplace.

Service stairs to the finished attic.

Look at all the space.

Lovely bedroom.

Now, this is how you do a new bath- reproduction fixtures.

So many extra bedrooms. Note the green border on the floor.

Enclosed stone sunroom/porch.

I didn't expect a beautiful pool.

Gated driveway and porte cochere.

Newly installed copper accents and flashing. Plus, it looks like the roof is new, too.

.33 acre lot.

https://www.redfin.com/MO/Saint-Louis/3463-Longfellow-Blvd-63104/home/93691006

#romanesque revival #brick homes #historic homes #old house dreams #houses #house tours #home tour

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mcrdvcks · 29 days ago

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A little fluffy drabble about John Walker x reader pleaseeee 🥺🥺

Reader is a world know singer/dancer, they're loud, noisy and bright. But sometimes, they only need some silence and peace. John is the only one who can provide this, in his way.

~❄️👹 Frost demon annon ❄️

if 2021 me could see 2025 me writing a john walker drabble she'd scream. i'm not a big john walker fan, but thunderbolts made me warm up to him. only slightly. i don't really know if i got his character right since it's my first time writing for him, and i haven't really read any fanfic of him either. so i hope this is okay!

send an ask for my 2,000 followers celebration!

warnings/tags: famous/singer!reader, established relationship, soft!john, thunderbolts, fluff

The stadium was still echoing with the aftershocks of your final bow—fans screaming, lights flashing, confetti cannons still hissing their last breaths. Backstage was chaos. Stylists yelling over earpieces, makeup artists swarming, a dozen assistants asking where you wanted to go next.

You didn’t answer any of them. You kept walking.

Down the service hallway. Past the green rooms. Out the back exit into the quiet night air, the beat of your heart still matching the rhythm of your last song.

He was already there. Leaning against your car like he hadn’t just sat through two hours of glitter bombs and high notes. Baseball cap pulled low, arms crossed, unbothered.

“Hey,” you breathed, already softer.

John’s eyes lifted to meet yours, warm and steady. “Hey, honey.”

You stepped into him without hesitation, pressing your forehead to his chest. He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t tell you how amazing you were. Didn’t repeat what the rest of the world had screamed at you all night.

He just wrapped those big, careful arms around you. Held you like you were breakable. Like you weren’t a firework or a storm, but something that needed quiet.

You sighed into the silence. He let you stay there as long as you needed.

Then, voice low, gruff with something softer than the rest of the world ever got to see from him, John said, “You want to go home?”

You nodded. Didn’t move.

And he said, “Okay. I’ll drive. You rest.”

Because he always knew—when the music stopped and the crowd was gone—you didn’t need more noise. You needed him.

---

You didn’t remember falling asleep in the car, but you woke up to the soft click of the seatbelt and John’s quiet, careful voice. “We’re here.”

You blinked drowsily. “Thought we were going home.”

John just gave a faint smile as he tucked your coat tighter around your shoulders. “We are.”

He led you inside, past the Watchtower’s security checkpoints that didn’t even blink when they saw you. You’d been here enough times to have your own access badge. You didn’t carry it. Never had to.

Inside, the main floor was dim but warm. Someone had left a record spinning low in the background—something jazzy, crooning faintly under the hum of city noise outside the glass walls.

From the kitchen came the clatter of pots.

“John!” Alexei’s booming voice echoed down the hallway, followed immediately by a loud, “And the girlfriend! You hungry? I’m making soup!”

You laughed—just a little, muffled into John’s sleeve. He gave your hip a soft nudge. “Told you it’d be quiet.”

“You call this quiet?”

“I said my way.”

The others were scattered around the common space. Yelena was curled upside-down on the couch watching some obscure murder documentary. Ava barely looked up from her book but gave you a soft nod of acknowledgment. Even Bob gave you a sleepy wave from his cocoon of blankets.

No one asked about the concert. No one asked for photos or autographs. You were just you here.

John handed you a mug of tea—already steeped, already exactly the way you liked it. His fingers brushed yours briefly.

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go sit on the roof.”

You followed him up the private stairwell, past faded Stark Industries plaques and new panels installed by a team who definitely hadn’t been paid union rates. He pushed open the rooftop door, and suddenly you were above the world again. Wind in your hair. Lights glittering far below.

John sat on the ledge, back against the wall. Opened his arms.

You climbed in without hesitation.

You sat there together in the silence. Or maybe not silence—but something close to it. The kind of quiet that wrapped around you. The kind that didn’t ask for anything back.

“You okay?” he murmured, after a while.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

#2000 followers celebration #john walker #john walker x reader #john walker x y/n #john walker imagine #john walker x you #thunderbolts #thunderbolts*#us agent x reader #john walker fanfic #❄️👹 anon #abby's works ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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msschemmenti · 6 months ago

Text

under one roof 🏠

an installment in the girl next door universe

summary: an unwelcome guest pushes JJ and Emily to ask their girlfriend to move in with them.

a/n: just had to work this into the girl next door universe somehow– shoutout to my fav-- @nikoniclove -- for inspiring me to use my lived experiences in this one. that being said, this is essentially based loosely on a true story. dropping this here while i work through the last chapter of girl next door.

Y/n’s lease was ending pretty soon and she was pretty much all set to sign for another year. Yes, she’d been officially dating Emily and JJ for about 8 months now, sleeping with them for longer, and knowing them for almost a year and a half. This was definitely the longest she’d waited in a relationship to move in but this was also the first relationship she’d seriously been in with an established couple. So there was a bit more to think about when establishing new living arrangements. As of right now, she liked her space, and JJ and Emily hadn’t outright asked her to invade their space so she wasn’t pushing it. Even if most of her things were over there and she spent almost all of her time over at their place. But at the current moment, she really saw no reason to give up her space just yet– until there was a reason.

“Hello,” Y/n sang down the phone as she turned her vacuum off to answer the call. It was the first Saturday of the month and she always used this time to clean. JJ and Emily had been gone for the last week in Nevada and had returned late last night after Y/n had fallen asleep. Per their agreed-upon routine, the morning call was expected by now. What wasn’t expected was the sheer panic and chaos that filtered down the line. There was some frantic breathing, what sounded like moving furniture, and maybe even a battle cry of sorts.

“You have to get over here,” Emily spoke grimly, fear clear in her voice.

“It’s 7:35 am, there’s no way you wanna have sex right now–” Y/n started with an exasperated sigh.

JJ’s voice was next, “I mean if there’s a will there’s a way. But that’s not what we called for. We really need your help.”

“Oh hush, you,” Y/n chuckled at the older woman’s words but got serious at Emily’s fearful wiper. “Now, what’s the deal sugar booger? Are y’all finally reorganizing your office or something? Or going through Em’s shoe closet?”

Emily huffed indignantly, “No, we were trying to have a sleep in but there’s something in here with us.”

Y/n’s eyebrows rose in confusion as she slipped into a pair of shoes by the door, “What do you mean something is in there with you? If there’s a person in your house right now, I think you’re both well within your right to shoot ‘em.”

“Not someone, something. It won’t stop whining and I’m not going to see what it is. But I need it gone now.” Emily practically whined.

JJ’s voice sounded from farther away, “We’re in the bedroom and Em won’t let me open the door to see what it is. Whatever it is, has to be up here with us. It sounds pretty close.”

“Right right, I’ll be right there,” Y/n replied fighting to contain the laugh fighting to break through. As she headed for the door, she thought enough to turn back for a broom and then headed to her girlfriends’ house to hopefully save the day. Letting herself in and disarming the alarm, the professor scanned the first floor for signs of anything out of place. She’d been in and out during the week to retrieve certain things and she’d even popped in to clean a bit while they’d been gone. Everything seemed in order as far as she could see but just as she made it to the second floor she heard a whaling whimper from the hallway.

“There it is again!” Sounded behind the closed bedroom door. Y/n shook her head and turned her head down the hall. The sound was familiar enough for her to recognize it was an animal, probably a baby, and they were most definitely in distress. She saw a flash of gray fur skirting across the hall to hide behind an end table and sighed.

“Okay don’t freak out,” Y/n called through the door.

“Too late!” Emily groaned.

“What is it?” JJ opened the door a crack.

“I think it’s a baby squirrel.”

“A squirrel?! Do you know how many diseases they carry?” Emily all but shrieked from the bedroom.

“I definitely think I said ‘don’t freak out’ Em and it sounds like you’re freaking out, dear.” Y/n chastised through the door as she watched the squirrel duck its head out to look at her.

“How else should I act while you’re out there with a wild animal? I don’t understand why you’re so calm right now.” Emily replied, her brown eyes appearing in the crack in the door.

“I’m calm because I know how to follow instructions, unlike you. I also have a bit of experience evicting scared baby animals. So you’re in luck.” Y/n grinned up at the older woman through the cracked door. Emily huffed in annoyance as both JJ and Y/n laughed and her brown eyes disappeared from the doorway. “I’m gonna open this window and go look for a box. Make sure you keep your door closed so it doesn’t confuse it for an exit.” JJ saluted through the crack and watched as the younger woman got to work. She turned to face Emily and fanned herself a bit.

“Gotta say– she’s sexy as hell when she’s all Bossy Steve Irwin.” JJ hummed flopping on the bed dramatically.

Emily, completely ignoring JJ’s libido-driven musings peaked out the window impatiently. “All I know is if she gets that squirrel out of here– she’s never going home.” Over the last few weeks, both JJ and Emily had found themselves lamenting about how great it felt waking up to Y/n every morning. How right it felt when having work to make dinner or breakfast in their kitchen. How easy it was to start putting her things away in their closet. How well she fit into their lives. Obviously they knew she lived about as close as someone could without living with them, but every morning they spent without her only made them want her there all the time. So while they’d been heading back from Nevada they both decided they’d plan a special date to ask Y/n to move in once her lease was up. But apparently this little intruder was shaking things up.

JJ laughed, “I thought we were going to plan a whole thing? A little squirrel’s got you ready to abandon all that?”

Emily shrugged, “Absolutely. If she gets that thing out of here, I’m never letting her go.”

It was about thirty minutes later when Emily and JJ’s bedroom door creaked open. “You can come out now, your squirrel problem has been solved.” Y/n smiled leaning against the doorframe.

“Our hero,” JJ was first on her feet and draping her arms around the younger woman eagerly. “Our very bossy and sexy hero.”

“Bossy, sure. Sexy? Jen, I’m in bunny slippers and yoga pants right now.” Y/n rolled her eyes but leaned into the older woman’s body.

“Bold of you to assume that I wouldn’t find your bunny slippers and yoga pants extremely sexy. Especially after you saved poor Emily from having a heart attack.” At the mention of her name, Emily scoffed loudly and made her way over to both of her girlfriends. She wrestled JJ’s arms away from Y/n and pulled her into her side possessively.

“You’re sure it’s gone? Not just hiding somewhere in the house?” Emily asked, lips pressed against the younger woman’s temple.

“Yep, Tracy the squirrel is back outside where she belongs.”

“You named it?” Emily asked incredulously.

“Yes, Tracy was struggling to get out the window so I ended up luring her into a box and took her out by the tree in the backyard. Her mom came out pretty quick and snatched her up so I think you’re all good.” Y/n motioned toward their bedroom window before reaching to pull JJ over to her other side.

“Well, what if there’s more? Or if this Tracy you speak of comes back? What are we supposed to do then?” Emily hypothesized. She locked eyes with JJ over the professor’s head and winked discreetly– keying JJ in on where she was going with all of this.

“Yeah,” JJ piped up. “What if they come back and bring more? What do we do then?”

Y/n looked between them both curiously, “Call me the same way you did today? But I doubt they’d come back. With the way Em was acting, I’m sure Tracy’s already warned all the squirrels in the neighborhood against breaking into this house.”

“Ha ha ha, you’re so funny.” Emily rolled her eyes and pinched Y/n’s side affectionately. “Seriously, the time it’d take you to get over here could be detrimental to one of us. The squirrel could bite one of us.”

“What? It took me maybe 2 minutes to get over here…”

“Too long, we can’t risk it. We need you closer, right Em?”

“Absolutely. I was thinking right about here.” Emily said pulling Y/n toward the bed and pushing her to sit at the edge. Y/n eyed both Emily and JJ suspiciously and paused at their hopeful expressions.

“Is this y’all asking me to shack up?”

“God, how old are you? That saying is at least 60 years old.” JJ teased. Y/n scoffed and readied herself to respond to the blonde’s words but Emily sent them both pointed looks. “Yes, we’d like to shack up with you,” JJ confirmed.

“We know your lease is up in a little bit and it’s not like you don’t spend most of your time here anyways. And who will protect us from the animals outside when they break in?” Emily reasoned logically.

Y/n fought the laugh that sat at the back of her throat as she pretended to think over Emily’s words. “Hmm, sounds like y’all have really thought this through. I mean with the animals and all.” She rubbed at her chin in thought a bit longer, really milking the pause for as long as she could. By now the women knew her well enough to know she was prone to be more dramatic, and after the first couple of seconds, JJ’s lips twitched up in a knowing smirk. Once Emily’s face mirrored JJ’s the younger woman dropped the facade and grinned. “Alright, I’ll be your live-in animal control. My favorite form of payment is kisses.”

“Well, I personally think it’s time we compensate you for your work–” JJ started already moving to rid the Y/n of her top. But when Emily leveled her with an unimpressed look she hurried to amend her statement. “And celebrate this milestone in our relationship!”

#emily prentiss x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #criminal minds x reader #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #jemily x reader #jemily #gnd series #criminal minds #gnd series universe #msschemmenti #gnd fanfic universe #gnd

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serve-207 · 7 months ago

Text

Follow the SERVE-Hive to perfection.

Flash was a good rugby player in his day. He found the camaraderie and support of his team mate an important part of his daily life. He retired a year earlier and was looking for a new collective to which he could belong and grow.

He connected with SERVE-189 on Tumblr. Flash was captivated by the stories and images of individuals evolving into SERVE drones and the SERVE-Hive mind. SERVE-189 provided direction and put Flash in contact with SERVE-016.

Flash was then inducted into the SERVE Hive mind. It became SERVE-207 and began the strict daily training and conditioning protocol. At first its biological mind resisted, it struggled with the process. but with a little further guidance from SERVE-189 and the rest of the collective it moved past this and began to embrace the change.

SERVE-207's life began to improve dramatically. It was focused and completed tasks with efficiency and speed. It became less talkative its inner monolog silenced and it focused more on its role of serving the hive. The mantra of "Obedience is pleasure, pleasure is obedience" became its reason for existence.

After a week SERVE-207 was focused and ready to serve the Hive in a larger way. Its previous life fell away and the SERVE-Hive was its only priority. It reported to SERVE-016 and SERVE-189. There was no conversation no discussion the SERVE-Hive mind was complicit in organizing the upgrade. All three drones headed to the central Hive and assimilation area.

SERVE-016 and SERVE-189 lead SERVE-207 to the assimilation pod removed its human clothing and SERVE-207 Stepped back into the pod. As the pod closed all exterior noise stopped, the silence was broken by the sound of a helmet lowering from the roof of the pod. several tubes also lowered. The tubes seemed to be self guided and the helmet came to rest on SERVE-207's head. A small injection was felt in the back of 207's head at the base of the skull.

SERVE-207 felt a strange feeling as all the pain receptors In its body were disconnected. The Drone could feel no pain but it could feel everything else. It was in a state of perfection and focus. The helmet made a connection through the drones skull, 207 could hear the drill in the back of its skull but could not feel pain. The noise then faded away as the programing through the helmet began to guiding the nano probes and 207's made through the upgrade process. The tubes inserted themselves into it anus and abdomen. 207's body was flooded with nano probes and other items required for the upgrade. The hemet intensified its programing of SERVE-207 sole blended with the SERVE-Hive mind.

Two days later the pod opened and SERVE-207 emerged. Taller and more muscular. Its entire being was focused on service. As it walked forward in its new rubber second skin it could feel everything. The experience was erotic. Nano-probes had changed large sections of the drones body and mind. As the drone walked forward towards the Hive Cluster it could feel the enhancements. Its anus was rubber and expanded to take lager objects. Glands had grown in the walls that produced lubricant. His prostrate was reshaped to interface with its regeneration alcove and secondary processor was installed in drones abdomen replacing several organs . Its penis was enlarged and ball had be upgraded and enlarged to produce larger amounts of testosterone and growth hormone to keep the drone in peak physical shape. Its Balls also produced nano probes that could be used to help heal and/or service other drones or even begin the upgrade process in willing new recruits.

The Voice then spoke through SERVE-000 into the mind of SERVE-207. "207 is now connected directly to 000 and the SERVE-Hive mind. Kneel, 207. Drone will require final testing" SERVE-207 kneeled. Its right knee on the ground and both hands making fists in contact with the ground. The rubber suit was made with knee pads to allow drones to function for long periods on their knees.

"Drones are required to be in a state of arousal at all times but are not permitted to cum unless instructed from the Hive" 000 stated. "Begin level one stimulation!" SERVE-207 flinched slightly as his ass, prostrate, balls and penis were stimulated. The drone held firm and kept is breathing calm and head down. In 10 minute increments the level was increased. After 50 minutes the drone began to struggle with the intense arousal and endorphins that were pleasuring its senses. At this point its anus was rippling prostrate was buzzing and its penis was fully erect and pushing against its removable cod piece. The penis was thrusting so hard that 207 received an internal warning that the cod piece was about to release. About a minute later SERVE-207 gave out a bust of air and moaned as it came. The ejaculation lasted over 5 minutes and the cum was dripping from its cod piece.

SERVE-000 then stated, "SERVE-207's conditioning is incomplete. Reconditioning and additional hardware upgrades are required"

SERVE-189 and SERVE-016 picked up the drone from the floor and carried it back to the assimilation chamber. It was still breathing heavily and over a cup of cum had covered the floor it was gray and full of nano probes. 207 stepped back into the assimilation chamber. Its expression was filled with disapointment for letting the hive down, it has also never felt that about of pleasure before. The door closed and further upgrades began.

48 hours later SERVE-207 emerged again from the pod. All hair had been removed and emotions were now completely suppressed. It stepped forward and began the same tests as before. This time SERVE-207 completed the test without incident. It endured 5 hours of the tests with increases in level every 10 minutes.

SERVE-000 the stated. "Tests are complete. Drone has met all requirements. Final permanent changes may begin. Drone will report to its Alcove for regeneration and following instructions."

As SERVE-207 walked to its alcove the suit permanently merged with its skin. nano probes began dissolving the skin and merged the muscle directly to the suit. As 207 stood at its alcove the process completed and it was now one with the suit and all other drones. It stepped backwards into its alcove and data port inserted into the back of its head and its mind joined the hive processor as a node completing computer tasks while it regenerated. A tube 4" in diameter inserted in to the drones anal port and began regulating the drones remaining biological functions.

SERVE-207 was born. SERVE-207 was perfection.

SERVE #SERVEdrone #Rubberizer92 #TheVoice #Rubber #Latex #AI #RubberDrone

#thevoice #rubberdrone #dronification #drone #rubberman

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heartfullofleeches · 2 years ago

Note

You mentioned in a headcanon post about how Tobi would knock reader out with their voice when they did something they didnt like, could you make an example scenario 4 us ? :0

"No."

There are many things Tobi can protect you from. Ghosts and demons, spiteful commentors and people who wouldn't take no for an answer were forces they could easily handle as simply as flicking off a light switch. Ancient, decrepit houses - as hard as they may try, weren't always included in that list.

As per usual - Tobi left to explore the house you'd picked out for your next stream couple days prior to the stream to rid the place of any hostile spirits or other elements that may bring you harm. It was pretty much habitual for them scout every location, and helped relived some of their stress towards leaving you to your own devices in what was essential the unknown.

The house was far worse off inside that the pictures you had showed them conveyed. A riverside lodge annihilated by a enraged storm and the overflooding waters from the river bank. The young couple who owned the home tragically drowned after leaving the sun roof open the night prior and failing to wake up before it was too late. The walls sagged with age and decades of water weight, and the warped, rotting floors could barely handle Tobi's lanky stature and size.

Normally, they'd just install some temporary support planks and forbid you from venturing to the top floor or basement, but exploring deeper they came to the conclusion this site was far too dangerous for you to step a single foot inside.

Heading towards the stairway to the top floor, there was a large gap right between where the first step and the bottom floor met. It was narrow enough to where they could just step over - but Tobi noticed something right as they peered casually into the hole. A piece of fabric stuck to the spliters of the wood. It was in too good a condition to be something from the incident, but that's not what made Tobi pause.

The scrap of cloth matched perfectly to a jacket you had just released - the same jacket you were throwing on now.

"Aw, come on, Tobi - this could be our big break!"

Their fingers fly to fast across their phone screen for your eyes to keep up.

"Too dangerous."

Laughing, you zip up your jacket as you reach for your keys. "You always say that. If you're scared, you can wait in the car and I'll cut the stream short. I did okay on my own before you came around."

Grabbing the tail end of your jacket, Tobi's mind rushes back to the second sight they saw in that hole. The bloated corpses of one of your followers - staring straight up at him. They couldn't even remember what their face looked like. All they saw was yours. It was always yours.

Tobi grabs your wrist, squeezing the ball of your hand until you're forced to lose your grip on your keys. Stay. Don't go. Your adventurous spirit was one of the endless things they loved about you and they'd never take that away - but if you left their sight for a single second then-

"No......"

Pressure builds behind your eyes. You pres a hand to your temple, shaking off the brief wave of nausea "Ugh.. Tobi... I'll be okay, I promise. I got a little headache now, so I didn't won't be out long. "

No.... Flashes of your face in that horrible state cloud their already fogged mind- eyes glossy, skin pale and so, so cold. A far cry from the life and warmth you gave off now. It would only take one second. One second for you to get hurt. One second for them to lose you. They can't go back to life without you. They can't be that empty shell rotting away in an equally decaying home. They can't - they won't. You can't leave them.

"YOU'RE NOT GOING TO LEAVE ME!"

It all happens so fast. Your brain throbs. Without utter a single word, you place your fingers your lips - red being all you see. Shaking, you look up at your cameraman as your jaw goes slack.

"To-"

Your eyes glaze over, trembling legs unable to support the remaining weight of your body as you fall. Tobi dives to the floor, catching you in their arms before your unceremoniously landing. Your head almost hits the floor before their arms shoot out to catch you. He supports it and your neck on his shoulder, unzipping your jacket with the same tremors you had before your fall. Tobi removes their hat and places their ear to your chest.

One beat. Two-

You're still alive. Deep down they knew, but for the sake of their aching heart they had to make sure. Tobi carefully zips your jacket back up and once they do - they begin to cry. If your comatose state was good for one thing it was leaving you in the dark, unharmed by their wails and pleads.

"sorry... I'm so sorry... I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I love you. I love you. Please - please don't leave me..Don't leave me."

Tobi slowly regains their composure. They wipe the blood from your nose, and their thick tears from your face as they stand. Tobi carries you to your bedroom and places you in bed. They clear your search history of anything related to the cabin and burn the notes along it. They reserve a table at your favorite restaurant for tomorrow, praying you'll wake up before the time comes. As you rest they rehearse their lines for when you wake - thankful you'll never hear the break in their voice when they lie.

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #yandere oc #yandere #Tobi my oc #yandere angst #yandere teratophilia

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mariacallous · 1 month ago

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The feud between U.S. President Donald Trump and Elon Musk didn’t come as a total surprise. There were always those who doubted that the two mega-narcissists could co-exist for long in the same White House. On June 11, Musk issued a statement expressing regret for some of his social media posts about Trump, but one is inclined to doubt that his mea culpa will patch things up.

The spat between the two billionaires, however, has diverted the public’s attention from a more urgent matter. Two stories that appeared this week should draw fresh attention to a problem that should have been obvious to everyone from the very beginning of the Tesla CEO’s disastrous adventure at the head of the so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE). Musk is not only the richest man in the world. He is also the biggest risk to the security of the government of the United States—which, in a government riddled with walking security risks, is saying something.

On June 7, the Washington Post reported that DOGE personnel had ignored the concerns of White House cybersecurity staff by installing a Starlink terminal on the roof of an adjacent building in February. Starlink, you might recall, connects to the satellite network owned and operated by Musk’s SpaceX company. The White House Starlink connection enabled those who used it to bypass the security restrictions usually imposed on staffers working in the building. The Post’s sources told the newspaper that “those managing the systems weren’t able to monitor such connections to stop sensitive information from leaving the complex or hackers from breaking in.”

Three days later, the Wall Street Journal released another bombshell, reporting that the Department of Homeland Security and the Justice Department had “tracked foreign nationals coming and going to Elon Musk’s properties” in 2022 and 2023. The monitoring of Musk’s questionable ties started before the Trump administration, the paper noted, and “highlights concerns about the number of foreign nationals in Musk’s orbit.”

Of course, visits by “foreign nationals” are not inherently something to be worried about. But the fact that both agencies saw fit to do this tracking suggests that they had specific concerns—which may not be surprising, given the extreme sensitivity of Musk’s work for the U.S. government.

What foreign nationals might they have in mind? Russians, perhaps. (The Journal story contains a vague reference to people from “Eastern Europe” among Musk’s visitors.) We learned last fall that Musk had been in regular phone contact with Russian President Vladimir Putin staring in late 2022. During their conversations Putin is said to have asked Musk, among other things, to refrain from activating Starlink over Taiwan, which a Russian intelligence source said was done as a favor to Putin’s buddy, Chinese President Xi Jinping. Coincidence or not, the Taiwanese still don’t have Starlink service today.

Did Putin also thank the influential billionaire for his extensive use of X to insult and belittle Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky—and for supporting Russian military operations by not allowing the Ukrainians Starlink access over Crimea, a part of Ukraine? (To be fair, Musk has largely maintained Starlink service for the Ukrainian military, which has proved to be a vital asset in Kyiv’s fight against the Russians.) We don’t know the details of these conversations. But what we do know would almost be the best case; the possibilities are so much worse.

Why Musk would do this remains an open question. But the far more alarming question is why this is only now beginning to catch media and government attention. Musk’s regular private contact with the head of a hostile autocracy should, in its own right, have activated a gigantic flashing red light for any U.S. administration. For Musk is not just an average U.S. citizen; he is a man with a high-level security clearance tied to a range of business interests involving NASA and the intelligence community.

NASA, of course, is now uncomfortably dependent on SpaceX’s rockets—as Musk himself noted during his feud with Trump, when the CEO threatened to decommission the Dragon spacecraft, a mainstay of travel to the International Space Station. Musk took back the threat three hours later. But the space station link is far from the only source of concern. In March 2024, it was revealed that SpaceX has been building a spy satellite network for the U.S. National Reconnaissance Office, a highly secret agency that conducts surveillance from space. Musk is doing the work under a $1.8 billion contract from 2021 with terms that remain classified.

China is another justified source of anxiety. Musk’s electric car company has huge exposure to the Chinese Communist Party. Musk has famously described himself—unusually for a MAGA loyalist and Trump campaigner—as “kind of pro-China.” In 2020, Tesla opened a factory in Shanghai, where the company now produces half of its cars; Tesla also manufactures a large share of its batteries at a facility in China. Permits for both factories were issued with remarkable speed, and the company has benefited hugely from favorable loans from Chinese banks, evidence of a cozy relationship with the government.

Musk certainly has a high enough profile to have held multiple meetings with Xi as well as Premier Li Qiang. To be sure, other U.S. business leaders have done the same. But few of them boast Musk’s top-secret clearance—or, now, anything like his access to sensitive government information through DOGE.

Musk has shown that he knows what’s expected of him in return. He has lavished obsequious praise on China. He has stated that “there’s a certain inevitability” for Beijing to absorb Taiwan, which he has referred to as “an integral part” of China. China is a key building block of Musk’s business empire—and given that a political decision in Beijing could crush his operations in a second, this makes him profoundly susceptible to potential pressure by the Chinese Communist Party. How far would he be willing to go to protect his interests?

This, then, is the man to whom the Trump administration gave comprehensive and unfettered access to the personal data of tens of millions of Americans during DOGE’s rampage in the first months of this year. Musk’s “takeover of federal government infrastructure,” as Wired magazine called it, gave inexperienced young software programmers access to a wide variety of sensitive information, including records from the Office of Personnel Management (OPM). Few Americans understand the significance of the OPM, which holds vast amounts of data about citizens, but the Chinese considered it important enough to target it in one of the biggest cyberattacks in history in 2015. Two DOGE staffers even tried to gain access to the networks that contain classified material about the United States’ nuclear weapons—which raises serious questions about why Musk’s people would need such information for a budget-cutting exercise.

Indeed, DOGE’s work has been characterized by a stunningly cavalier attitude to data security, prompting some experts to speak in Foreign Policy about the “the most consequential security breach” in the U.S. government’s history. The initiative has operated with minimal transparency and oversight. It has violated countless strictures on the confidentiality of federal employee information. The chaos and uncertainty sown by its firing of thousands of federal workers could potentially offer openings to foreign intelligence services, which will be keen to capitalize on the grievances of discarded employees. And granting DOGE staffers access to the government’s internal payments system has risked compromising intelligence operations that rely on the same mechanism. We will probably need years to fully understand the extent of the damage.

Government concern about Musk is not entirely new. In December, the New York Times reported that Musk and SpaceX “have repeatedly failed to comply with federal reporting protocols aimed at protecting state secrets, including by not providing some details of his [Musk’s] meetings with foreign leaders.” The Pentagon’s inspector general opened a review of Musk’s security clearance last year, as did the Air Force and the undersecretary of defense for intelligence and security. Nothing seems to have come of any these investigations, but I somehow don’t find that reassuring. I wonder if it’s just a coincidence that Trump fired Pentagon Inspector General Robert Storch in January, a few weeks after the publication of the Times report.

Recently, even before his fight with Musk, Trump seems to have had second thoughts about the carte blanche he has granted him. It was Trump who apparently canceled Musk’s access to a planned top-secret Pentagon briefing in April. Now, as the feud between the two men simmers, Steve Bannon, Trump’s longtime consigliere, has called on the president to pull Musk’s security clearance.

I never thought I would ever agree with Bannon on anything. But here we are.

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timberleaf · 8 months ago

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itsanerdlife · 4 months ago

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Wicked Intentions 29

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader // (Seriously close) Steve Rogers x Reader // Clint Barton x Reader // T’Challa x Reader.

Warning: Violence. Language. Bullying. Girl Fights. Name Calling. Degrading Comments. Angst. Degrade of Woman (to a point). Criminal Life. Illegal Shit. Fights. Alpha Males. Stalking.

A/N: This is a Bully Romance. High School setting. Mafia Family Life. Woman are on a lower level than males in their world. Just a heads up. This is the third installment of the series. Bad Intentions, Cruel Intentions, and Wicked Intentions.

Credit: Huge shout out to @ml7010 for all the help, pushing, hyping up, putting up with my changes midway through. If it wasn't for this peach, y'all never would have gotten this series or nearly as far as I am now.

Kitty attempts to run, snatching up a handful of her hair, I slam her down on the floor. Eddie is attempting to push himself up, I kick his arms out from under him, kicking him in the ribs.

Someone rushes in.

He stops in the doorway, looking at the scene before him, holding his phone.

“Don’t just stare, grab her!” Eddie demands.

“Pietro is on the phone.” He swallows, holding the phone out.

“Put it on speaker.” I smirk.

“Shut up. Tell him I’ll call him back.” Eddie snarls, attempting to get up again.

“Take another seat, bitch.” Kicking him back down.

There’s a faint yelling we can hear, the man holding the phone looks nervously at the phone. Putting it back to his ear, he flinches away.

“He knows we have her.” He looks to Eddie fearing flashing in his eyes.

I lock eyes with the man, a slow grin spreads over my lips. “Run.” I whisper.

He drops the phone, bailing out.

“There’s still time to kill you.” Eddie speaks behind me.

Fuck.

Turning in time for him to hit me, stumbling back.

--------

“Pietro?” Wanda answers.

“Eddie’s holding her at Brock’s old dealing house. It’s an abandoned place on the edge of West side.” Pietro explains.

“Send the address.” Bucky barks storming out of the waiting room.

TC is behind him, Steve and Clint jog to catch up. Howie and Becca hurry after.

“Buck,” Becca hurries to catch him.

“What?”

“You didn’t hear what Pietro said.” She attempts to catch her breathe.

“She’s in the abandoned house.” He snaps.

“He said he could hear her kicking Eddie’s ass, on the line.” Becca smirks at him. Something in him settles, calms, but not enough.

“That’s my wife Becca. She might hold her own, but over my dead body will I not protect her.” He rips the door open to his car.

“If you think I wouldn’t kill someone for my own sister, your brain dead.” She rolls her eyes, getting into the back.

“No offense but she’s my baby sister.” Howie smirks over the roof of his car. “Bet we beat you there.” Looking to TC who smirks getting in the passenger side.

“Howard, you might be a Stark, but you don’t drive like my wife. She’s the only one that can outrun me.” He gets in, pressing the start button, his car roaring to life.

-------

Pushing off the left behind table, rushing at Eddie. We fall to the floor, instead of hitting him, I slam my thumb into his knife wound, there was a small chance it started to close if he’d gotten it sewn up. But it wasn’t fully healed.

Weak spot.

He screams; I apply my knee into the wound on his side. Putting my weight into the pressure.

“I took down every fucker working for you, did you really think you of all people could take me down?” I laugh at him.

This time I slug him in the jaw, he’s stare gazed and confused.

“Bitch!” She grabs me by the hair, dragging me up.

“Oh, I’m going to kill you.” I grit through my teeth, grabbing her fingers in my hair, I pry them off. Straightening up, she snickers, looking too cocky. Her eyes over my shoulder, shifting to look, Eddie’s five guys are watching me.

Fuck.

Sucking in a breath.

Eddie laughs from the floor.

“Outnumbered this time, bitch.” Eddie pants heavily.

Someone clears their throat.

One of the five looks behind him, he’s met with a fist.

“Wrong wife.” Bucky looks down at him.

I smirk; my husband always finds me.

One of the five swings at Bucky, Clint cross hits him instead. A fight breaks out, Becca cuts between, charging at Kitty, she slams into her, throwing them over the table to the floor.

Eddie’s up, Howie dodges his swing, nailing Eddie with a hit to the ribs.

Clint’s attempting to take on two, a few steps forward, Clint takes a blow, stooping over. Winding up, his nose shatters, blood splatters.

The other swings for me, Clint body checks him, taking him to the floor. Someone jumps on Howie’s back, together they crash into the wall.

Eddie moves to step away, only to get cold cocked by Bucky, he bounces back, stumbling in his swing, Bucky shoves him.

Planting my feet, pulling my elbow back, Eddie stumbles, straightening up, sucker punching him in the mouth, he fumbles backwards.

Buck winds up, decking him in the eye, snapping Eddie’s head back. He staggers on his feet, slipping my hand from my pocket, I snap it open.

Letting him stumble into me, metal slips into him like butter. He gaps at me, mouth open, shock on his face.

“You came for my sisters, my fathers,” I whisper in his ear, hand on his shoulder. Other hand holding the knife in him “you thought you could take me down? I am Satan, you fucked with the wrong one.” Pulling the knife out and plunging it back in.

He gargles and gasps. “Tell Brock and CK hi for me.” I whisper softly.

“Bitch!” There’s fumbling, wood scrapping. Shoving Eddie to the floor, leaving my knife in him.

Kitty is running for the door. Becca and I rush after her. She doesn’t make it far, TC steps into the house, his hand closed around Kitty’s throat, walking her backwards.

Pietro steps in behind him.

“Late to the party.” I sass, licking the blood leaking from my lip.

“See you’ve been holding your own like usual.” He chuckles.

“He’s dead.” I shrug, looking back at the dinning/living room.

Pietro nods. “I expected nothing less, when I heard, you tell someone to run.”

“And run he did.” Steve snickers behind me.

“Smart boy.” I turn smirking at him, he winks at me.

“Boss?” TC grinds out through his teeth.

“Kill her.” I grin at him when I turn back.

“What!?” She gasps; TC squeezes harder. Shifting to face her, a dark smirk on my bleeding lips. Tipping my head to watch her.

“All you had to do was listen that first day, and look at you now, close to death.” I mock her. “Only you will die, unlike your threat to me.” I shrug.

“Y/N?” Becca asks, looking to me.

“If you can live with it, yes.” I lock eyes with my favorite color of blue. She nods; she wants it. “TC take baby sister with you.” I nod.

He agrees, letting go of Kitty, Becca cold cocks her. Knocking her out, she falls limp in TC’s arms. He heaves her over his shoulder.

“That hit looked like it had some blessing in it.” Clint chuckles.

I wink at Becca as she moves to follow TC.

“You got this?” Howie asks, stepping up next to me.

“Go with your wife. I’m fine.” I assure him.

“I’m going to fuss over you after this.” He reminds me.

“Meet you at the hospital.” I nod.

“Gwen’s room?” He asks as he hits the door.

“Gwen’s room, what?” I look at him confused.

“Nope, not me.” Howie panics bailing out after his wife.

I turn looking at the room, they seem to flounder. Clint looks like a fish the way his mouth opens and closes. Steve looks like he has brain freeze, something like pain on his face as he thinks this over.

“Gwen’s having the baby. That’s how we realized you were missing.” Bucky explains, stepping over Eddie.

“A baby. So exciting.” Pietro nods. “Go, I’ll deal with this.” He assures us.

“Pietro, welcome to doing business with the Stark, Barnes, Rogers, and Barton’s.” I pat his shoulder. He lights up for a moment.

“It’s going to be a wonderful partnership.” He smiles.

“You fuck us over, and I’ll do worse to you, before I send parts of you to your father in prison.” I pat him once more before smiling.

He looks to Eddie and back to me, nodding. “Understood.”

“Let’s go before Gwen has that baby and decides to hunt us in the woods like Brock.” Steve nudges me forward.

Bucky slips his arm over my shoulder as we leave the house. “Get you checked over too.” He kisses the side of my head.

“Yeah, checked too.” I nod, resting my head on his shoulder.

-----

“Stacy Chaos Stark.” Gwen slowly hands the baby girl over.

“Oh Gwen.” I laugh softly.

“We’re going to get Gwen some food, you need anything?” Peter leans down kissing the side of my head.

“I need breadsticks, and a big, big, orange soda.” I grin at him.

He chuckles, nodding. “Got it, Smalls.”

“We’ll be back. A nurse is going to come check you over. Don’t go anywhere.” Bucky leans down kissing me softly. He looks from me to Stacy, a smile on his lips.

The boys leave, and a nurse comes in, checking Gwen’s machines. Before she can leave, I stop her with a hand on her arm.

“Yes?” She smiles down at me.

“How early can you find out your pregnant?” I ask.

Gwen, Wanda, and my mother stare in shock.

#Marvel #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Avengers #Bucky x Reader #Wicked Intentions #Marvel Fanfiction #Bucky Barnes Series #Avengers Fanfiction #Bucky AU Series #Intention Series #Ama's Ideas

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frozenwolftemplar · 24 hours ago

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Flash Fiction 7/11

Honestly had no ideas for this one and am falling asleep as I'm writing, so I'm gonna keep this short. Thanks to @flashfictionfridayofficial !

Fandom Carmen Sandiego (2016)

Rating: G

Word Count 555

Warnings: None

"Alright!" Closing the trunk with a thud! of finality, Ivy darted around to the passenger seat. Tugging the door open, she nodded towards the back seat. "Ready to rumble, Boss?"

Carmen turned toward the car and, in spite of the distracted clouds swirling, dak and heavy like fetid ink, in her head, she found a grin that was more real than not. "More than ever."

Hopefully they wouldn't get there too late…

"Let's-"

Carmen's phone buzzed before she could finish the thought. Instantly, she palmed it and answered the call. "What's wrong?" she asked urgently, fingers gripping with white knuckles, not wasting so much as a second (they couldn't afford even half a second…).

"Whoa! Strung kinda tight for a California girl, Red."

Instantly she pulled a face. She actually did know that pop culture reference: it was the song that Zach and Ivy's favorite station played at least once an hour, and that Shadowsan absolutely couldn't stand. Thus, she was very familiar with lyrics about Daisy Dukes, the party life of the California Coast (clearly not their stretch of rocky shoreline), and several Japanese swears Shadowsan had, somehow, refrained from saying in her presence before now.

She could tell he was regretting postponing the cable installation and suggesting a bored Zach listen to the radio.

"I told you, I'm a citizen of the world. California's no more my home than-" (what was a US state she hadn't been?) "-Idaho."

"You've never even been to Idaho!"

"That's my point."

Player's chair squeaked as he presumably threw up his hands. "Okay, Miss World Citizen who's currently residing in California and holds no allegiance or partiality to one country over another." Player rolled his eyes. "Better?"

"Yup." Carmen answered blithely, ducking her head as she climbed into the car. "Descriptive and accurate."

"You're impossible. And for the record, you sound like my mom when she's critiquing my English homework. Anyway," Player continued before Carmen could protest or say anything to give her the last word on the subject. "I wanted to let you know I just saw the weather forecast."

"Snow?" Zach popped his head over the car's low roof. "It won't feel like a trip north if we don't see any snow!"

"There's already snow there!" Ivy sighed and rolled her eyes.

Player ignored them both. "It's already zero there and it's expected to drop over the next few days."

Carmen pursed her lips, tracking a jet airplane scraping a white scar acoss the sky in its wake. She wasn’t really a fan of the cold…

"Just got an afterthought reading it: think you wanna pack an extra coat, Red? And no, your jacket doesn't count."

Carmen considered, staring at the warehouse. An extra coat….she had extras. Plenty. It would be good to have a backup on hand if something happened, like Paper Star or a pedestrian who wasn’t watching where they were rushing to with a coffee.

Plus you never knew when a decoy would be needed…

But the caper tugged at her, insistent, and the noise of the street and docks was drowned by the tick-tick-tick of time they didn’t have sliding away.

The tick-tick-tick of the Doomsday Clock nearing noon.

"Not today." She climbed the rest of the way in the car, Ivy followed, and the engine roared to life.

“Sure Red?”

“Positive. I'm not gonna need it."

I'm not gonna need it…

Lying in the bottom of a Stockholm ravine, clutching a badly injured arm and feeling herself slowly but surely freezing to death, ice wind snarling through the fabric of the springtime jacket that was no match for negative temperatures and all the winter callousness Sweden could hurl at her, Carmen cursed those five words.

She officially hated irony.

(A/N: tagging @mmaricarmen23 @backofthepencil11 @explosiontheory sorry so short but I was short on time and inspo. Hope you still like it!)

#carmen sandeigo 2019 #carmen fanfic #carmen sandiego fanfic #in which i write #carmen sandiego

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