#Says the clown fucker

[mischiefburns]

a letter to my friends:

youre all mentally ill, and you should all get it checked out <3

Im not a hypocrite cause im also mentally ill and ive gotten it checked out my mother says im mostly fine SHUDDUP ABOUT IT

[cherryb0mb-s]

Uncle Dad........I need him........

[ideas-4-stories]

We all know that Buggy is probably a very petty clown.

It would be pretty fun to think that Buggy would go as far as humiliating some a small-time Marines by beating them in a singing and dancing contest. Hear me out:

So, it's a random island (and before Buggy's a Impel Down inmate, so he's not a Warlord) and they nearly get caught by those Marines. Suddenly a bat-shit crazy idea comes to Buggy and he blurts out 'Hey, how about we do this instead?' Initially the Marines wouldn't goanna do it, but then Buggy mocks them.

So it happens, the Marines go first (they were alright), then it's Buggy's turn and this is where the Marines realize they fucked up

This clown literally destroys them, they can't ever come back from this. The civilians are screaming and cheering for the fucking pirate to do more. They can't tell anyone in the Marines about this.

Can't Buggy be this petty?

[heart-in-shambles]

Me: *fighting for my life with my friends over the clown fucker allegations cause of my Buggy obsession* here’s one of my new favorites *showed them Corazon*

Them: that’s clown adjacent

Me: wait no-

[lotusdreamt]

so .. y'all watch live action o.ne piece?

[trinrose3]

I refuse to believe that people that make posts about people with blue eyes and how they act have ever actually met a blue eyed person.

Like babes you’re insecurity is showing 💀.

[mitchie02]

Yo terf next time you have a suicidal thought how about you carry it out so no one has to put up with your terf ass

Thank you for your nice words, kind stranger! Thanks to your nicely put arguments, I finally sat down and reflected on my actions. Yes, you all lunatics are completely right: JKR making a few million less if a boycott succeeds is definitely worth harassing people who already bought the game and telling them to kill themselves (despite how the American left is always up in arms about treating everyone with compassion and being mindful of possible triggers, good job at being consistent). /s

In the time it took you to be a disgusting piece of shit, just to use a term as incorrectly as possible and make it lose any meaning because you can't comprehend that not every single human will think 100% like you, you could've actually showed support to a person who needed some kind words or you could've donated to a charity. Anything other than acting like a baby clown, too scared to face someone without anon activated.

Finally, take your own advice and go read a book, your brain needs some exercise.

[jules-hoard-of-stuff]

god forbid transmascs post anything

[outlying-hyppocrate]

fucking wailing because i have to write a full-fledged essay on the perks of being a wallflower that's due in four hours (it's 4am here) and i have done nothing but look at pretty enmu pictures on the internet. oh well. i like enmu because. aha. pretty

[heich0e]

PENNYWISE'S ACTOR???

[mejomonster]

Might babygirlify Tao Ran and make an edit for him

I keep thinking of the fancast edit I did and how close Tao Rans actor now matches only Better and now I wish to be like. Thank you bro <3

[depressedtheatrekiddo]

Yes, I am in Spain, but I'm also in Spain without the S

[stahl-tier]

Meanwhile in Austria: the political parties are criticizing the fact that women earn a lower pension than men on average after they retire

My brother in christ you're the ones who make the pension laws.... you're the only ones who have the power change this

[hemipteran]

I’m officially off the deep end boys

[oskea93]

Kansas Anymore (2)

Tyler Owens x OC

Summary: In which Riley Owens, the ex-wife of the infamous Tornado Wrangler, has 36 hours to come to terms if moving to a whole new country with their small daughter is something she truly wants to do.

Warnings: Cursing, angst, suggested smut, fluff. ✶ Chapter One ✶

■ Italics = Flashback ■ A/N: You guys are amazing! I just want to say thank you so much for loving this story and follwing the tale of Riley and Tyler ❤️ ■ Taglist is available - just drop a comment! Would love to hear your thoughts, questions, or maybe just drop by to say hello! Can't wait to hear from y'all

TL:  @ellesmythe @18lkpeters @hookslove1592, @djs8891, @smoothdogsgirl @queenslandlover-93 @imjustamehbleh @love2write2626 @lt-jakeseresin @starcrossedtrek

“You know when you said that we were going to a show, I didn’t expect it to involve horses and mud.”

I let out a frustrated sigh, my heels sinking into the soggy ground with each step. I had been in Arkansas for less than a month – choosing to attend the college that my father spoke so highly of growing up. As each day passed, it was getting harder and harder to fight the urge to pack all my things and head back home.

My roommate Sarah, who had grown up in the area, laughed as she turned to face me. "Welcome to the South! This is what we call a rodeo. Trust me, you'll have fun."

I glanced around at the bustling fairground. Families gathered around food stalls, the smell of popcorn and barbecue hanging in the air. Children ran past us, their boots splashing in puddles, their laughter ringing out above the distant sounds of country music. Cowboys in worn jeans and hats moved with purpose, leading majestic horses by the reins.

"Fun, huh?" I muttered, trying to pull my heel out of yet another patch of mud. "It looks like a real blast.” Sarah grinned and tugged at my arm, leading me toward the main arena. "Oh, come on! You haven't even seen the best parts yet. The bull riding, barrel racing, and don't forget the rodeo clowns. They’re hilarious!"

As we walked, I noticed the vibrant colors of the stands selling cowboy hats, boots, and all sorts of Western memorabilia. There was an infectious energy in the air. People greeted each other with wide smiles and friendly nods, embodying the warmth of Southern hospitality that Sarah had talked about.

We passed a group of teenagers gathered around a mechanical bull. They cheered each other on, daring one another to take a ride. Sarah nudged me, "Think you could last eight seconds on that thing?"

I shook my head, laughing. "No way! I'd be thrown off in a heartbeat."

A mischievous smirk broke across her face. “Never know till you try.” I rolled my eyes and started to walk away, but her grip on my arm stopped me. “Just once.” Her eyes widened with a playful challenge. “Have a little fun, Riley.”

My eyes glanced between her and the machinery behind her, taking in the sight as a teenage boy was thrown from the contraption, his friends commending his effort with hoots and hollers. The boy, though dusting himself off, wore a wide grin as he rejoined his group, their camaraderie infectious.

I sighed, feeling a mix of reluctance and curiosity. “I’m not wearing the right clothes for that thing,” I said, the excuse as flimsy as it sounded. “Plus, I could break a bone or som—”

“You riding or not, darlin’?” came a loud voice from behind me.

Sarah’s eyes shifted to the voice, and I turned to meet the face of the commenter. He was a tall fucker – had to be over six foot with an overinflated ego. His boots were dusty, and his hat cast a shadow over his eyes, but I could still see the arrogance etched in his smirk. “Excuse me?” I replied, my tone a bit harsher than intended.

“You heard me,” he said, leaning casually against the gate. “You gonna give it a go or just stand there making excuses?” His cocky smile shone bright, and I could practically taste the mockery in his voice. “Too scared you're gonna break a nail?”

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, not out of embarrassment but anger. I clenched my fists and took a step forward, feeling the rough texture of the ground beneath my boots. “Listen, cowboy,” I said, my voice steady despite the irritation bubbling inside. “I’m not here to play games or prove anything to you.”

Sarah shifted uncomfortably beside me, her eyes darting between us. I could sense her unease, but I wasn’t about to back down. The man’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying the tension he was stoking.

“Prove something to me?” he chuckled, pushing off the gate and taking a step closer. “Sweetheart, you don’t need to prove anything to me.” His eyes slowly moved up my body, lingering in a way that made my skin flush. “Just to yourself.”

The guy raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk centered on his chiseled face. Clearly, he thought he had me all figured out.

I turned back to Sarah, her eyes showing concern as I handed off my purse and coat. “You really don’t have to do this, Riley.” Her tone shadowed her eyes. “Tyler’s just being an asshole. He’s like that with all the girls in town—” She paused shortly. “You’re just the only one who’s ever talked to him like that.”

“Let’s see what you got, city girl!” The Tyler guy hooped, causing those close enough to center their attention on the situation.

Rolling my eyes, I hastily removed my purse, pushing the bag into Sarah’s arms. “You really don’t have to do this, Riley,” Sarah's voice now hesitant as she looked at me with concern. “We can just go somewhere else and have fun, forget about that guy.”

I shook my head in protest, my resolve hardening as I cast one last glance at the idiot across the room. His smirk fueled my determination. “No way. I’m not gonna give that jerkoff the satisfaction of watching me wuss out,” I declared, my voice tinged with defiance.

As I pushed up the sleeves of my designer shirt, a small act of rebellion that would have my mother clutching her inherited pearls in horror, I felt a surge of adrenaline. This was my moment to show that I was not someone to be pushed around, not someone to be intimidated by an urban cowboy fool at a fucking rodeo.

I confidently approached the bull, climbing onto the steel, gripping the handle with white-knuckled determination.

"Hold on tight, darlin," the elderly operator smiled warmly, his weathered face lined with experience and mischief. With a practiced hand, he flipped the switch, setting the mechanical bull into motion.

As the bull lurched forward, the world around me seemed to blur into a whirlwind of colors and sounds. The contraption bucked and spun with unpredictable ferocity, testing every ounce of my balance and resolve. I clenched the reins tightly, my muscles straining as I fought to stay atop the bucking beast. Sarah’s cheers blended with the roar of the crowd, a chorus of encouragement that spurred me on.

Seconds stretched into what felt like minutes, my focus narrowing to the rhythmic movements of the mechanical beast. Just as I started to think I might actually last the full eight seconds, the bull gave a particularly violent twist, sending me flying into the padded arena.

I let out a groan of both relief and exhaustion, feeling the adrenaline slowly ebb away as I managed to flip myself onto my back. As I lay there, breathing heavily, the cool night sky spread out above me like a vast, dark canvas adorned with twinkling stars.

Sarah's figure quickly loomed over me, her expression a mix of concern and relief etched across her features. With a swift movement, she crouched down beside me, her eyes scanning me from head to toe as if checking for any signs of injury.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice laced with genuine worry and care as she assessed my well-being.

I slowly nodded my head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "I think so," I replied, my sentence trailing off momentarily as I gathered my thoughts. "Was that okay?" I inquired, seeking reassurance after the whirlwind of the mechanical bull ride.

Sarah's expression shifted from slight confusion at my question to a mischievous smile that lit up her face. "Are you kidding me, Riley?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with pride and excitement. "That was more than okay. You had Tyler Owens, the reigning rodeo champion, dropping his jaw so far to the ground that he's gonna need some help putting it back in place."

We shared a laugh as she helped me off the mat, my black slacks now dotted with dust and dirt.

"You did good, little girl," the older man remarked with a warm smile as we exited the gates of the rodeo arena. I shyly thanked him, feeling a surge of pride at his encouraging words, but my smile quickly faded as a tall stranger approached us, his hands casually tucked into his denim pockets.

"Wasn't expecting you to last a second, city girl," he remarked with a smirk that seemed to gleam in the dim light of the night. "Gotta hand it to you though, you make riding a bull look easy."

I met his gaze with a mixture of defiance and amusement, my own smirk playing at the corners of my lips. "Yeah, well," I retorted, taking a step closer to him, the adrenaline of the ride still coursing through my veins. "It's all in the hips, really."

My words hung in the air between us, a playful challenge laced with a hint of confidence. “Is that right?” His voice dropping an octave, sending a shiver down my spine. “Gonna have to teach me your ways then.”

A flicker of a smile danced across my lips, “Me teach you-“ I took a step back. “From what I hear you’re a world-renowned bull rider, probably the best in the county, maybe even the state.” My words boosting his overstrung ego. “I’m sure a bull made of steel is no match for-“ I paused, tilting my head. “What’s your name again?”

“You know my name, darlin.” His words igniting a burn in my stomach.

He arched an eyebrow as I drew near, clearly taken aback by my sudden boldness. His cronies and Sarah exchanged glances, unsure of what was unfolding before them. I could almost taste the tension in the air, thick and crackling with anticipation.

Without a word, I stood before him, my gaze unwavering. The hint of a smirk played on his lips, a challenge in his eyes. But I held my ground, a silent defiance radiating from every fiber of my being. My hand slowly trailing up his flannel covered front, his breath hitching with each touch.

In one swift motion, I reached out and plucked the Stetson hat from his head, the symbol of his false bravado. Placing the hat atop my head, my smile smug as I looked up at him, almost daring him to take it back.

“You shouldn’t let strangers get too close to you, Tyler Owens,” I remarked coolly, the gravel crunching under my heels as I took a step back. “That’s a lesson us city girls learn at a young age.”

10:54am (2.21 hrs since arrival)

“I can’t believe it's been over a year since we’ve seen you and the little bean,” Lilly smiled warmly over her coffee cup, her eyes reflecting a mix of nostalgia and longing. “I mean, we get to talk to her on video chat, but it’s just not the same.”

I nodded in agreement, a tinge of guilt flickering in my chest. “Yeah, work has been so hectic, and I never know where you guys are gonna be, especially during the season. Tyler’s like a butterfly – floating wherever the wind blows.”

Lilly chuckled softly, the sound carrying a hint of understanding. “I know he misses her a lot –” Her sentence paused, a moment of hesitation flitting across her features. “Misses you a lot too.” Her gaze met mine, her eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and unspoken truths. “He still has that picture of the two of you nestled in his visor.”

The photograph that Lilly had taken two weeks after I found out I was pregnant with Caroline. The storm clouds black as night loomed behind us, a stark contrast to the brightness of our smiles that shone as radiant as the sun in the sky.

Tyler had insisted on capturing the moment, his easy laugh filling the air as he playfully teased about becoming parents. Despite the uncertainty and fear that lingered in the depths of my heart, his unwavering support and infectious optimism had been a beacon of light in the midst of the looming storm.

The diner's door suddenly swung open, and in walked Boone, a towering figure with my four-year-old daughter, Caroline, perched high on his shoulders. "Here she comes, Ms. America!" Boone's southern twang echoed through the small space, causing a few of the older folks to turn their heads in mild disapproval. Caroline's infectious giggle, so reminiscent of her father's, rang out as she played along with the theatrics, her smile radiant as ever.

I watched as the two of them made their way through the diner, drawing smiles and curious glances from the other patrons. Caroline's tiny hand waved enthusiastically at the strangers, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Boone, ever the playful uncle, hammed it up for her, making exaggerated gestures and funny faces that elicited peals of laughter from the little girl perched on his shoulders.

As Boone approached our table, I made space for him in the booth, eagerly awaiting Caroline's arrival. Her tiny hands reached out for me as I gently lifted her off his shoulders, her eyes alight with excitement. "Mommy, Daddy said I could go with him and Uncle Booney when the 'nado comes," she announced proudly. "Daddy said there's gonna be one real soon."

My eyes immediately darted to where Boone still stood, his gaze evading mine as he focused intently on the intricate pattern of the floor tiles. "No," I said firmly, my hand instinctively reaching out to gently grasp Caroline's pigtailed braid. "Sweetheart, it's far too dangerous to go with Daddy and Uncle Boone. You need to stay here with me where it's safe."

Caroline's face began to crumple into a disappointed pout, her lower lip trembling slightly. Her eyes, usually bright with curiosity and mischief, now filled with a mixture of defiance and longing. "No, Mommy," she protested, her voice rising in a blend of frustration and determination. "I want to go with Daddy!"

Her attitude shifted suddenly, like a fault line in an earthquake, her small arms crossing over her chest in a display of stubborn defiance. The tension in the room seemed to thicken as her words hung in the air, charged with the raw energy of a child's unwavering will.

I let out a frustrated sigh, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on me. My eyes flicked over to Lilly, her expression a mixture of concern and understanding.

"Caroline, I'm not having this argument with you," I said firmly, my voice tinged with a hint of exasperation. The tears that had been threatening to spill over now glistened in Caroline's wide green eyes, her lower lip quivering with unshed emotion.

"You're not going, and that's final," I stated, my tone leaving no room for further negotiation. The air in the room seemed to thicken with the weight of my words, the tension between us palpable.

Caroline's shoulders slumped in defeat, her small form trembling with suppressed emotion. A single tear escaped her eye, trailing down her cheek in a silent testament to her disappointment.

Lilly sat forward, her presence a comforting anchor. "Caroline, honey, Mommy is just trying to keep you safe. Sometimes we have to trust that the grown-ups know what's best for us, even when it's hard to understand."

“But you go with daddy to the nados.” Caroline's matter-of-fact statement catching Lilly off guard, her surprise evident in the way her brow furrowed slightly.

"Well," Lilly began, her voice gentle yet tinged with a sense of hesitation. "It's my job to go with your dad and help with the tornadoes. But if my mom told me not to, then I would listen to her and stay behind." Lilly and I shared a knowing glance, a silent acknowledgment passing between us.

We both knew her words were a facade, a carefully constructed lie meant to shield Caroline from the harsh realities of the world. Lilly's mother's disapproval of her association with Tyler and the gang was no secret, a source of tension that simmered beneath the surface of their relationship.

The chimes above the door sounded again as Tyler stepped across the threshold. His smile on display as he greeted those in the restaurant, sparking a conversation with the random patrons. “Daddy!” Caroline quickly stood on the booth’s seat, her arms waving in the air to get Tyler’s attention.

Tyler waved goodbye to his admirers, his smile growing even wider as he approached our booth. As he drew closer, I could already anticipate the first thing that would escape Caroline's lips—the reminder of how I had told her she couldn't go with him on a chase, a trait she had undoubtedly inherited from me.

"Hey there, sweet pea," Tyler greeted Caroline, his voice brimming with affection as he stepped behind the booth. Caroline's arms instinctively wrapped around his neck as he lifted her out of the seat with practiced ease. "Have you gotten something to eat yet?"

Caroline nestled her head against Tyler's shoulder, her small frame shaking with soft sniffles. Concern etched across his face, Tyler gently pressed, "What's wrong, baby?" He reached up to wipe away a stray tear that was making its way down her cheek.

"Mommy won't let me go with you and Uncle Booney for the nado chase," Caroline whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of disappointment and longing.

 Tyler's gaze, the same shade of green as Caroline, locked onto mine with a mix of curiosity and concern. "What's the deal, Riley?" he inquired, his voice gentle but probing.

My face betrayed my emotions before I could even formulate a response. A wave of unease and protectiveness washed over me as I struggled to find the right words to convey my concerns.

"The deal, Tyler, is that she's just a baby," I began, my voice tinged with a blend of firmness and vulnerability. "She doesn't need to be out in the truck, spinning around in a tornado. It's not safe for you and the guys, and it's definitely not safe for a 4-year-old child."

"I'm not a baby, mommy!" Caroline quipped, her voice filled with a mix of defiance and determination, catching me off guard.

My eyebrows raised in surprise at her unexpected retort. "Well, you're my baby, little girl, and like I said, it’s too dangerous to be out there with daddy. Maybe when you're a little older – say twenty –“

“Twenty!” Tyler exclaimed. “You can’t have her living in a bubble all her life, Riley.”

The atmosphere in the room grew tense as my jaw slacked in immediate anger, my eyes narrowing as Tyler stared back at me. "Excuse me?" I retorted; my voice edged with frustration. "Like you have any control of that, since I'm the primary parent here and you're just someone who comes and goes like the fucking wind you chase!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed as Boone and Lilly stepped forward, "Hey, little bean—" Lilly approached Tyler and Caroline, who was actually crying at this point. My frustration with Tyler causing me to forget that she was right in front of me in his arms.

"Why don’t you come with us and help us sell some t-shirts?" Lilly suggested, her warm smile aimed at Caroline, who sniffled and wiped away her tears.

Boone stepped lightly behind me, his easygoing demeanor a calming presence. "Yeah, who's gonna turn down an adorable kid?" he added with a playful grin, trying to lighten the mood.

I hastily ran a hand through my hair as Caroline climbed into Lilly's arms, her giggles filling the room and momentarily easing the tension. Tyler's face remained stoic as he sent glares my way, the unspoken emotions between us hanging heavy in the air.

Feeling the weight of his gaze, I met his eyes with a mix of defiance and weariness. The complexities of our relationship, the unresolved issues simmering beneath the surface, were laid bare in that moment of silent confrontation.

Tyler's voice was low and filled with hurt as he spoke, "That was a really shitty thing to do, Riley. To bring that up in front of Caroline – make me look like a bad dad. Real nice."

I lowered my head in frustration as Tyler stormed past me, his steps purposeful and heavy. The hushed whispers of those around us mingled with the clinking of cutlery, casting a spotlight on our tense exchange. With a heavy sigh, I gathered my composure, steeling myself against the onslaught of prying eyes and whispered conversations. The weight of their scrutiny bore down on me, a reminder of the fragility of our private struggles in a very public setting.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember.

Ready For It?

Week #1 Prompt: Mile High Club | Word Count: 2589 | Rating: E | POV: Steve | CW: Sex Acts, Risk of Being Heard, Alcohol Consumption | Tags: Famous Corroded Coffin, Road Manager Steve, Established Relationship, Steve Will Make Good on an Old Promise, But The Guys of Corroded Coffin Don't Wish to Hear It

"Are you ready for it?" Eddie asks, standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Steve hears it creak, and rattle, under his weight. It's a door that's not made to be touched or used, only looked at, Steve's pretty sure.

"Don't lean on that. What's it?" Steve asks, not looking up from the binder that's on the desk in front of him. He has a thousand things to look over before they land, and he really doesn't have time for whatever nonsense Eddie's proposing. 

And Steve knows Eddie well enough to know it really could be anything that he's trying to break Steve's concentration with. A tray of shots. A racoon he smuggled on board the plane. Or just his finger sticking out of the fly of his jeans, so he can pretend it's his dick. 

Nothing would surprise him at this point. Between the four of them, he's seen everything twice at this point. Okay, maybe not the raccoon. But Eddie would, if he could just get one caught.

"It," Eddie stresses again, but not elaborating any further. 

Steve finally looks up, "It, like, the clown? What do you mean, it? You love to talk, use your words."

Steve's sure he sounds snappish, and short-tempered. But he's always this way before a show, and Eddie knows it. He entered at his own risk. There's too much to do, and never enough time.

That's why Steve gets this back section of the plane, the only bit of privacy on board, unless he wants to hang out in the john. So, he squirrels away back here so he can work while they're flying from show to show. It's technically a bedroom, and there is a bed that any of them are welcome to use to sleep while Steve works, as long as they are fucking quiet about it. 

Eddie's never quiet, though. 

And today surely won't be the moment that changes. 

Eddie laughs, amused and delighted, and it's a good sound, so Steve relaxes against his will, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Spit it out," Steve says, raising an eyebrow, then watches as Eddie pulls the flimsy accordion door closed behind him. It's not much of a door, more of a paper-thin screen, and Steve hopes whatever Eddie's about to say is something he's fine with the rest of the band hearing, because. Well. Door basically made of tissue paper and paper clips.

Lean on it, and you're definitely crashing through, as if you're the Kool-Aid Man, and that's why Steve just leaves it pushed open all the time. He's scared if any of them touch it, they'll destroy it and then they'll have to pay some ungodly amount of money to replace a shitty excuse for a fucking door.

Eddie flops on the bed, or what passes for one at the back of a small, private plane. For as much as this costs to lease, Steve really thinks it should be a little more sturdy in the furniture department. 

Steve watches as Eddie then runs his hands over his body, down his chest, finally settling on framing his crotch with his hands. 

"That's it?" Steve questions, trying not to laugh, but he's smiling. He can't not. Eddie's ridiculous. But he loves him. 

"C'mon, you promised we'd join the mile high club. Let's do it now."

Steve had promised that, a long time ago, when it seemed highly unlikely that he'd ever have to make good on the deal. Eddie wanted to do it on a commercial flight once upon a time, and Steve preferred to not have an audience of three-hundred and an indecent exposure arrest on his record when the plane touched down.

So, he'd promised that when Eddie made it big, and had his own private plane, they'd do it then.

Fucker probably went and did it just to spite Steve. 

But Steve smiles, "You can't be serious. They are right out there. They can hear every word we're saying-"

"We can!" Gareth yells from the other side of the sad excuse for a door, "And we are formally requesting that this not happen. We voted."

Eddie laughs, and shouts back, "You don't get to vote on whether I have sex or not! This is not a fucking democracy!"

"We do. We did. It is," Goodie says back, interjecting, not even raising his voice. He doesn't need to, nothing is blocking the sound, and Steve can hear all three of them cackling. He's sure they're each three drinks into the mini bar by now. 

He really should go take it away. They've got a show tonight, and he needs everybody to be able to stand on their own two feet. Well, Gareth just has to be able to sit. But Steve's not gonna remind him of that. Give him an inch, he'll take a mile.

Eddie sticks out his bottom lip. 

"You'll trip on that lip, if you keep it up," Steve says, looking back down at his tour bible. 

"Steve," Eddie whines. 

Steve closes his binder, and crawls up on the bed, until he's hovering over Eddie's face, whispering, "We will. I don't renegade on my deals, you know that. But not right now. Wait until we're at least halfway alone."

Eddie's about to argue, Steve can tell, he always can, when they hear an acoustic guitar plucking out the melody to Let's Get It On. Then it's followed by laughing, and Gareth drumming on something with his hands, and Goodie making bass noises with his mouth. 

Eddie laughs, "Okay. Point taken."

And Steve's fucking thrilled, because those three already know more about their sex life than Steve would ever prefer. 

"Alright, alright!" Eddie shouts, and they howl as they stop. 

Eddie's big eyes are still pouting, but he nods, ever so slightly.

"Nap with me at least?" Eddie asks.

Steve looks at his watch, figures out the remaining duration of the flight plan, and decides he probably has enough time for a short nap.

"That I can do," Steve says, and crawls on the bed, curling against Eddie's side. 

"I really wanted to join that club," Eddie says. "I wanna get my wings."

Steve laughs, "That's not how you get wings"

"It could be," Eddie stresses. And yeah, Steve supposes it could.

"Okay. You will," Steve promises. Just, hopefully when everybody else is knocked the fuck out. 

They have almost no privacy from each other, as is, but doing that with them right there would be ridiculous. They'd never hear the end of it. 

Eddie rolls off the bed, standing up, and starts removing his jeans. Steve's seen this move before. He knows the ending, and waggles his finger, shutting that shit down. 

Eddie doesn't listen. He never does. And the jeans hit the ground, the heavy belt buckle reverberating as it lands. 

Then he's standing there in his boxer briefs. Hand fondling his dick. 

Steve shakes his head. 

Eddie pantomimes jacking himself off, then points at his eyes, then at Steve, then at his own eyes again. 

Steve rolls his eyes. There's no way in hell Eddie can stand there and jerk off with Steve watching, and stay completely quiet. 

But if Eddie wants to embarrass himself, which probably isn't even possible, then he can go right ahead. As long as Steve doesn't have to be involved in any compromising ways.

So, Steve folds his hands behind his head, propping himself up, and crosses his legs at the ankle, getting comfortable. 

Then raises his eyebrows, like, I'm waiting. 

Eddie wastes no time, he steps out of his underwear, and strokes himself one, twice, then holds up a finger. Telling Steve to wait. Steve waits as Eddie bends over, bare ass mooning him, and Steve smiles. 

He's never prepared for anything. 

He finally digs around in his duffle until he comes up with the lube and raises his eyebrows, slicking up his hand, and going back to stroking. 

He tilts his head back, exposing his throat, and Steve looks between that length of pale skin and his hard cock sliding in and out of his fist. The soft sound of his strokes, the sight of the head of his cock appearing and disappearing, his other hand on his chest, playing with the ring through his nipple.

Fucker.

It's working on Steve, of course it is, even if he's not gonna cave and get fucked right now. But he'll enjoy the show, and has to force himself to not give in and join in. He won't give Eddie the satisfaction.

Eddie adjusts his head back upright, and catches Steve's eyes. Then he looks down at his slick cock, gazing at his own hand as if he isn't the one doing it to himself.

And they both watch. The slide, the firm grip of his talented, calloused fingers, and Steve lets out a small involuntary noise.

That's all it takes. Eddie's gonna come. Steve can see it in the shudder that rolls through his body, can see it in the tension in his stomach, his forearm, as he slows his stroke as he looks around for something to come in, to not make a fucking mess. Unprepared, as always.

Steve takes pity on him, and sits up, scooting towards the edge of the bed, letting Eddie slot between his thighs. 

Then he lowers his head, and opens his mouth. 

Eddie keeps stroking, and then slips the head of his cock past Steve's lips, the underside of his length rubbing against Steve's tongue, as he thrusts in once, twice, shudders and bites back a whine as he pushes all the way in, coming.

Steve closes around him, bobbing slightly, and swallowing as Eddie chuckles. Steve lets go, and licks his lips. 

Eddie bends down, slick hand finding Steve's cheek, and Steve can't even complain as he kisses him. Then Eddie's crawling onto the bed and falling face first into his pillow, sure to be asleep in a minute or less. 

Steve slides back off the bed, wipes his face with Eddie's shirt, and goes back to work at the desk. 

The show is textbook, running smooth and on schedule, and then they are wheels up again just a couple hours after. Off to the next one. The pace of this tour is faster than any other they've been on before. 

Steve's balancing the books from the night, when Eddie very carefully slides through the flimsy door, slotting the accordion door into place behind him. Turning the lock that can only be decorative. Steve had heard them out there doing shots and playing cards, the noise slowly dwindling as they wound down, the adrenaline finally fading.

"Everyone's asleep," Eddie whispers, "Now? Can it be now?"

"Didn't we already check that off the list?" Steve teases him. 

"That didn't count," Eddie hisses, eyes pleading. 

Eddie had somehow conned the band into playing a metal version of Learning to Fly during their encore earlier, really stressing the "I'm learning to fly, but I ain't got wings" portion of the song. Steve had heard him loud and clear.

Steve looks at him, standing there looking so hopeful, and laughs, "Okay. It can be now."

Eddie smiles so fucking wide. He's adored by fans worldwide, he just stood in front of a roaring stadium crowd a few hours ago, for god's sake, but Steve knows it's somehow still him that Eddie most wants attention from.

And he'll damn well give it to him.

Steve's facedown on the bed, and Eddie's grinding into him so slowly, trying to not make any noise. Not that he thinks anything would wake the rest of them up at this point in the night, but still.

Eddie's doing such good fucking work that Steve wants to moan. To whine. To scream. He doesn't know how Eddie has the drive, the stamina, after a whole night on stage. He just never stops, and right now, Steve is the lucky beneficiary of all that boundless energy.

And he can't help it, Steve lets out a muffled whine and Eddie covers his whole back, pressing into him, "Be quiet, sweetheart." 

Steve nods. He can be quiet. He can. 

Eddie doesn't move, just stays laying on top of him, his full weight pressing Steve down into the mattress as he slowly grinds his dick right into Steve's prostate.

It's torture.

It's hell.

It's fucking goddamn perfect.

Just a slow, firm roll of his hips, pushing up into him, over and over, and Steve is gonna come. 

The moan starts to escape his lips, and Eddie's hand is suddenly over his mouth, meant to silence him, but all it does is push him right over the edge. Body spasming as he comes into the sheets of the leased plane bed. 

Eddie chuckles, thrusting another half a dozen times, before coming inside him. He releases Steve's mouth, and Steve sighs, Eddie collapsing on top of him. Still deep inside. Right where he belongs.

"Fuck," Eddie whispers, and Steve laughs.

Fuck indeed.

"Oh, gross," Steve hears, and opens one eye. Gareth is standing in the doorway of the bedroom, looking at them laying on the stripped bed, the dirty sheets balled up in the corner, on the floor.

"I thought I locked that," Eddie says, not even opening his eyes.

At least they aren't naked. It could be worse. It really is a fucking worthless door, though.

"Twenty minutes to landing," Gareth says, "You need to get your asses in seats."

"Says who?" Eddie mutters.

"The pilot, asshole," Gareth answers.

Eddie groans, not moving, but Steve rolls out of the bed. Cars should be waiting at the airport to take them to a hotel so they can get some actual rest, and showers, before the show tonight. He definitely needs one.

"Eddie," Steve says, "get up."

"No," Eddie says, and Steve laughs. Now he's suddenly too tired to do anything. His motivation clearly all dried up since he got what he wanted.

"Yes," Steve says, pulling his shirt over his head.

Eddie mutters and grumbles, but flings himself off of the mattress, falling to his knees on the floor of the plane, crawling around, grabbing at his clothes. Eyes still closed. Hands reaching out, patting around, like he's a little raccoon looking for food.

It's a method of getting dressed, Steve supposes. Not a good one. But a method, nonetheless.

Eventually, they slide into their seats and buckle up, just in time to feel the decent starting, and Steve looks at Eddie. Eyes closed again, already falling back asleep. He reaches over, and slides the needle of the pin through Eddie's shirt.

Eddie opens his eyes, and looks down to see what Steve's doing.

They are a pair of golden wings, like children get to celebrate their first flight. Steve had asked their private pilot if he had any when they landed earlier, but he hadn't. However, when they reboarded after the gig, Steve climbing the portable steps, the pilot had handed over a pair he'd scrounged up at the airport while they were gone to the gig.

Now, Steve has gotten to give them to Eddie.

"Your wings," Steve explains.

And Eddie just grins, covering the pin with his hand.

Steve shakes his head, and looks down at his binder, going over the schedule for the coming day, and the days after.

He smiles to himself, happy that Eddie's happy, and decides that maybe he needs to pencil a few more of these mile high sessions into the official itinerary, after all.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiesmuttyseptember and follow along with the filthy fun! 💦

Notes: Song from the encore is Tom Petty's Learning to Fly.